Fate Has a Twisted Sense of Humour
by CeliaEquus
Summary: Individual stories about various rare ships, and how they know that they're soulmates based on the words they first speak to each other. Disclaimer: I don't own any Marvel thingummies, or other fandoms mentioned within the fic, nor am I making money from this. STORY BEING DELETED BY MARCH 2016. SEE AUTHOR PROFILE FOR DETAILS.
1. Spectrometers (Bruce x Phil)

"Spectrometers"

Phil answered the question Dr. Banner directed towards Fury. Anything to get the doctor's attention. Quite frankly, he was one of the cutest things Phil had ever seen, and with his back story… Phil just wanted to wrap him in cotton wool and keep him in a nest of soft toys and cotton candy. Not that it was his right, but a long-dead protective instinct had awakened, and he wanted those eyes to be on him, even just for a second.

"We're sweeping every wirelessly accessible camera on the planet," he said. "Cell phones, laptops. If it's connected to a satellite, it's eyes and ears for us."

"That's still not gonna find them in time," Dr. Banner replied, glancing up at Phil. "You have to narrow the field. How many spectrometers do you have access to?"

It wasn't a quick look, but their eyes had met for a second, which pretty much made Phil's day. Especially after the shambles of his meeting with Steve Rogers; he needed something to cheer himself up. He steadfastly didn't smile dreamily at the scientist.

He couldn't help it. Phil didn't have a soulmark; he was allowed to internally drool over Bruce Banner.

And he didn't check out the doctor's backside as he walked away. He didn't. Really.

(Only Maria noticed, and she wasn't going to tell anyone, so it never happened.)

* * *

"So, no soulmark?" Tony asked as they drove from seeing off Thor and Loki.

"No," Bruce said, wondering how they'd even gotten on to the topic. "You?"

"Yeah, but they can be platonic. Mine was always platonic… until the party after I came back from Afghanistan. Then it turned as black as my heart, and I knew I didn't just consider Pepper a friend and assistant anymore. Got lucky with that one, I can tell you."

"Very lucky," Bruce murmured, staring unseeingly at the scenery as they drove. He really didn't want to talk about this. "Soulmarks can change. My parents' did…" He shook his head. "They're not stable. It's not an exact science. I considered studying it, but I prefer figures to folklore."

"Good choice," Tony said, grinning. "We wouldn't have met otherwise."

Bruce laughed. It turned to a pained hiss as he grabbed his thigh.

"The hell?"

"What's wrong?" Tony asked. He pulled over quickly. "Cramp?"

"I don't know," Bruce said through gritted teeth. "Doesn't feel like it. More like burning."

"Look at me." Tony grabbed Bruce's chin and turned his head. "Your eyes look fine. No Hulking out imminent. Let's get back to the tower; you can check it out there. Got better labs than SHIELD."

It was a hell of a shock when Bruce removed his slacks and saw a grey soulmark forming on his skin. He'd heard that they could take longer when they appeared later in life, but it was so rare that there were only a few documented instances.

"Tony!" he shouted. Tony barged into the room, and stood still at the sight.

"You cradle robber, you."

"Better not be," Bruce said. "I prefer people my own age, thanks. And I'm not saddling someone with the Other Guy if I can help it."

"Maybe you can't," Tony said. They sat on the edge of the bed. "JARVIS, can you tell what it's going to say?"

"No, sir. However, judging by when Dr. Banner first felt the pain of his soulmark forming, and its progress to this point, it should become clear in approximately forty seconds."

"Thanks, buddy."

"Thank you, JARVIS," Bruce added. "Good to know."

"So what're you gonna do?" Tony said. "If your soulmate's just being born?"

"Hell if I know. I can't possibly… it's impossible! I'll be old and grey… older and greyer by the time we meet, and sure as hell by the time they're legal. I can't even do anything… strenuous without my pulse racing and making the Other Guy appear."

"Well, that sucks," Tony said. "Don't you think an exception could be made for your soulmate?"

"Even if it could, I won't be in any state to be energetic enough. Maybe… maybe it's a potential student? Maybe I'll be somebody's mentor, and it's just a platonic bond?" He sighed in relief. "That's it. That's gotta be it."

"There you are." He clapped Bruce on the shoulder, and they smiled at each other.

"Sirs?" JARVIS said. "I believe you can read the words now."

They looked down at Bruce's thigh. After reading through the words, Bruce thought that they seemed familiar. Where had he heard…? On the Helicarrier. That's right. He was talking to Fury, but it wasn't…

"No."

"Bruce?"

"No, no, no. It can't be. Shit!"

"What?" Tony jumped up and followed Bruce, who'd stormed into the bathroom and was staring into the mirror over the sink, checking for signs of the Other Guy. There was definitely anger there, more intense than usual, but Bruce forced it down. Now wasn't the time for mindless rage. Now was the time for careful consideration.

"I know who it is," Bruce said flatly. Tony stared at him.

"What?" he said. "You mean your soulmate hasn't just been born? How can that—"

"He's been reborn."

"He?"

"Only one person has said these words to me. It's impossible, but… I guess nothing is impossible."

"What?" Tony asked again, growing agitated. "Who is it, Bruce?"

Bruce looked down at the words on his leg, then up at Tony. "It's Agent Coulson."

* * *

They both stood across from Fury, who was seated behind his desk and giving them a look which plainly said 'What the hell are you doing here?'.

"Five. Days," Tony said.

"What's five days?"

"Since New York."

"Six days, actually."

"Only because I needed to calm down after I found out," Bruce said. "And you can be hard to track down."

"He was dead for five days, wasn't he?" Tony said, bending over and resting his hands, palms down, on Fury's desk. "Phil."

Fury looked from one of them to the other. "I don't know—"

"You know what we're talking about," Bruce said, crossing his arms. "Tell us where he is before we find out for ourselves. Even if the Other Guy has to tear this place apart… starting with you."

"I was _going_ to say," Fury said, "that I don't know how you knew, but yeah. Coulson's alive."

"He was dead for five days!" Tony said. "I think this is the important point here."

"I can tell, since you keep saying it."

"It's medically impossible!"

"Clearly it isn't."

"What'd you do to him?" Bruce growled. Fury blinked a couple of times.

"Why do you care?" he asked.

"Because he's…!" Bruce breathed deeply. "If you brought him back to life after five days, there could be considerable damage—"

"There isn't. It's been done before. I wasn't gonna just let him go; not when I need my one good eye. But I'm not telling you a damn thing until you tell me how you knew he was alive, and why you're so damn interested. I _know_ it isn't for medical reasons."

Bruce was prepared for this. He lifted his left leg onto the chair beside him and rolled up the loose pant leg, bearing Phil's writing. Fury's eye widened significantly.

"He's my soulmate," Bruce said. "Now are you going to tell me where to find him?"

Fury sighed. "Explains why he's had a crush on you for a couple of years."

* * *

Phil knew that Bruce Banner travelled a lot, keeping out of the military's way. It could explain why he was magically in Tahiti. Maybe Fury had arranged Bruce to be his physician while he was on holiday? Suddenly, physical therapy didn't sound so bad after all, and that masseuse had definitely been an incentive to behave. With the doctor here, Phil's day was looking up already.

…Okay, Tony Stark in the background was not so good.

"We're here to take you home," Stark said. Phil frowned slightly. His thoughts were a bit jumbled, and he looked at Bruce.

"We're sweeping every wirelessly accessible camera on the planet," he said. It was important to tell him this. "Cell phones, laptops. If it's connected to a satellite, it's eyes and ears for us."

Bruce shut his eyes for a couple of seconds. There went the brief feeling of déjà vu he'd felt. Until… there, those eyes were looking at him again.

"That's still not gonna find them in time," the doctor said. "You have to narrow the field. How many spectrometers do you have access to?"

"I… I don't know," Phil said, and he frowned. "Why am I saying this?"

"They were the first things we said to each other."

"Uh… okay."

"_The first things_."

"…Mmm-hmm?"

"You haven't seen your soulmark, have you?"

"I don't have one."

"I think you'll find that one has appeared, around the same time that mine did."

It was a warm place, which explained why Dr. Banner was wearing shorts. He showed Phil the mark, definitely in his handwriting.

"Wow," Phil said, reaching out a hand and touching. They both shivered, and he met the doctor's eyes. "I don't know where…"

"No one's pointed it out to you?"

"Not yet."

"I'll leave you two alone," Stark said, reminding Phil that he was there. "Don't get up to any shenanigans. You're not well enough, Agent. But we're taking you back to the tower to recuperate."

"Back to New York?"

"…Yeah. It'll be a shorter journey than you think."

"Okay," Phil said, sitting up. He felt a little slow, but that was because he was so relaxed. He couldn't censor himself as he looked up at Bruce. (If they were soulmates, it really was more appropriate to use his first name.) "Damn, I'm lucky. I have such a crush on you it's ridiculous."

"You're telling me," Bruce said, combing his fingers through his shaggy hair. "I don't know why you'd feel that way… but I guess it's because of the soulmate connection."

"We… we don't have to be together," Phil said. It was only fair to point it out. "We can just remain platonic soulmates. Your words are grey. Mind are probably black, but that doesn't mean anything. Just give it time, and mine will change."

"Or mine will." Phil felt a fluttering in his stomach at the look Bruce gave him.

"Whatever you say," he said. "Could you turn around? I won't get undressed all the way… and if it's hidden anywhere inappropriate—"

Bruce snorted. "Try anywhere that might be pressed against the top of my thigh."

Phil knew where he wanted to look first. It didn't mean anything unless the connection became non-platonic, in which case they could choose to bond. Now that the possibility had occurred to him, his mind was going to inappropriate places. He removed his button-up shirt first, and turned to check out his torso in the full-length mirror beside the spa wardrobe. Nope. Knowing his luck – and his dirty mind – the soulmark would be…

Yep. Under his right thigh. Corresponding where the marks could press against each other if they bonded completely.

He cleared his throat, and kept his back to Bruce. "You can turn around now," he said.

He didn't want to see the doctor's face, and stayed perfectly still as he sensed the man's approach. He wasn't expecting the cool finger to trace the words which he knew would be the ones Bruce first spoke to him, both before and ten minutes ago.

"My writing," Bruce said softly. He touched Phil's shoulders. "Okay. Well, at least we know what position we'd be in to bond."

Phil groaned in embarrassment, and covered his face. "Not compulsory," he reminded Bruce.

"No, I know. Mostly it depends on the Hulk. I think I'm gonna have to have a talk with him, and so will you, _if_ I deem it safe enough. But… but I think I have to tell you how you came back to life. In the interests of full disclosure between soulmates. It's important that you know I had nothing to do with this."

"Maybe we couldn't be toget— soulmates until after I died and then came back?"

"No doubt, but it sucks," Bruce said. "And… you're not gonna like what I'm about to tell you. We'd better sit down. I'm here if you need me."

* * *

**Wow. Wrote this in about one and a half hours, between consulting notes and so forth, because apparently I was bored and needed something to do. This is why I get nothing else done; I spend my free time writing random soulmate fics.**

**Please review! This pairing needs more love.**


	2. Good Morning (Bucky x female Phil)

"Good Morning"

Phyllis 'Phyl' Coulson was the youngest senior agent at SHIELD, although not by much. In her mid-thirties, she strode around the hall, well aware of many higher than her, but also aware that she was now level seven… and she and Director Fury were the only ones who knew.

Rounding the corner, she saw Him from a distance. The man who tied her tongue in knots, scrambled her brain, and made her simultaneously grateful that she only saw him once a week, and sad that she didn't see him more often than that. He was always well put-together, pressed slacks, crisp shirt, straight tie and formal jacket. He wasn't her type – she tended to drool over bad boys in leather, which is why she didn't date – and she wouldn't have noticed him if it wasn't for his boots.

Boots. Not polished shoes, but actual boots. The rough workman kind, good for climbing mountains, climbing ropes, running on any surface, riding a horse, riding…

And that was where her brain would short out. She knew she was in trouble. The rest of him screamed pencil-pushing, level gazillion SHIELD agent, who could disarm you with a single look but could blend into the background easily. Phyl knew. She had that reputation herself. But at least her practical shoes were discreet. These were out-there, clashes-with-the-rest-of-the-outfit boots, and she desperately wanted to know the man who wore them.

But she couldn't even squeak out two words to him, and he certainly never spoke to her. Looked her over, probably assessing her threat level, and then returned to his taciturn self while she berated herself for losing her head over an agent more senior than her.

So she would smile and nod when she saw him, and he would nod back. That was their thing. She never would've dared if he had someone with him, but he was always alone. And she could never look away from his face (or his boots) long enough to check out the ID badge attached to his jacket. In other words, Phyl was crushing on a man who probably wasn't her soulmate, was gorgeous as sin, a complete mystery… and she didn't have a clue who he was.

Still. Maybe with her super-duper new level seven clearance, she could find out?

* * *

It wasn't the first time an elevator had broken down at SHIELD – even Stark tech wasn't infallible – but it was the first time she'd actually been in the same space as her mystery man, standing still, and the silence was stretching out. The tech department always received a notification when there was a breakdown; there was a button to press if someone was actually in the elevator, to make it priority. If there was a serious problem, there would be an announcement.

They waited, the man stock still, and Phyl leaning against the back wall, her arms crossed, and trying to stop her eyes from wandering below the waist. The cut of his suit couldn't hide the muscles of his arms, and he was obviously very trim. He had dark hair, falling just above his ears, and he had crystal blue eyes. Well, something blue. She'd never been any good at art. If it wasn't Captain America blue, she had no idea.

He was barely moving, and she wondered whether he was nervous. SHIELD didn't recruit people who had claustrophobia, and high level agents had to learn how to avoid developing any phobias at all.

Even if he was a junior – which she doubted, not in those clothes, and he had to be in his forties – it would be terribly improper to ask whether he had a problem with broken down elevators. She supposed, if she thought about it, there were many different ways things could go wrong…

That was a road she wasn't about to go down. Not while she was still in an unmoving elevator.

Finally, with a mild jerk, they began to rise. At the next level they both hopped out (health and safety protocol), and Phyl smiled at her… no, not her, _the_ mystery man. She began to walk away, when she felt a hand with a steel grip latch onto her arm. Eyes widening, she was about to throw him off when he dragged her around the corner and out of sight of any security cameras.

He could try to kill her, but she wasn't going to go down without a f—

Mystery Man kissed her.

No, scratch that. Not 'kissed'. That was too mild a term. He dived into her, cupping her face with one hand and her lower back with the other, stealing her breath away with each second. He nibbled her lips, explored every inch with his tongue, and it honestly felt like he was making love to her mouth. She had to clutch onto his shoulders for dear life, knowing – without a doubt – that if she didn't hang on, her legs would go completely from under her.

She _knew_ there was a reason he wore those boots. This guy was in no way boring. He was a leather-clad bad boy at heart, and that was… really not good.

She whimpered when he pulled away. He steadied her against the wall, and she laughed as her legs trembled. He chuckled lowly, and she looked up into his eyes.

Oh, if only he was her soulmate. But she couldn't be that lucky.

Before she could drum up words to say – like 'More, please' or 'Oh God, do that again' or even 'Let's find a room' – he half-smiled, and strode off to the stairwell. That half-smile was possibly the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen.

(Phyl bet to herself that he'd look even better smiling properly, and better still in bed, after a round or five of… Not the time.)

And that kiss… She felt like she'd done twenty minutes on the treadmill at high speed, only _much_ happier, from her head to her toes.

Managing to scrape herself off the wall, Phyl tottered over to the stairs. The cool air cleared her head, and she walked down a floor… before she remembered that she was supposed to be going up.

* * *

The Asset had an official name for his identification badge and papers, in case anyone questioned him. He was officially level eight, but he knew no more than he was told for a mission, and to find his way around the base.

His masters allowed him out only after twelve o'clock midday. He took the same route to his destination to see whether anything had changed, and then a different way back to his room to vary the routine. He once heard the word 'reset' in relation to him, and he knew why. He was not allowed to know details of the missions he had completed, in case he was compromised, so they were blurred from his memory.

Ordinary humans had knowledge of their history. The Asset was not an ordinary human, and he had no past. He was created by better men. The only sign that he _was_ human was the tattoo on the palm of his right hand. He had read books; he knew that they were the first words to be spoken to him by the other half of his soul. The true love of fairytales. He could not understand why love was so important.

Attraction he could understand. He felt attraction readily enough for the one person who would not leave his mind. No matter how many times missions were erased from his memory, he never forgot the woman with the brown hair, grey-blue eyes, and sensible clothes. She did not wear the skin-tight clothing of most female agents. She wore a dress suit, with a skirt going to below the knees with suspicious seams up the sides. No doubt the skirt could be torn at a moment's notice to engage in fighting.

The thought of tearing that skirt – and the rest of her clothes – to pieces by himself, gave him a strange feeling. He knew from reading, and from watching programs while he was on missions and giving the impression of being an ordinary human, that such feelings precluded kissing.

When the elevator froze, The Asset kept still. He had to remind himself that he was not being put to rest this time.

Her scent filled the air. He had keen senses, and it tantalised his nostrils. He had memorised each of her smiles; they kept him going while away on missions; they stayed part of him even when his masters put him in the machine.

He wanted a taste of her. The minute they were out of the box, he pulled her to where he knew there were no cameras, and took his fill. She was soft, warm, beautiful, and she made the most wonderful noises while he kissed her. He relied on instinct, and on what felt good to him. If The Asset had a past, kissing must have been part of it. He did not mind forgetting it; he only wanted to remember this woman.

He could not speak to her. He was trained not to speak until spoken to. As she did not say anything to him, he could not respond. And what would he say? He was not an ordinary human; he was HYDRA's asset, and this woman was a stranger, so she was unlikely to be HYDRA. A pity, and that he did not know her name. Her identification badge hung from her blouse, but until there was reason for him to read it, he could not. If he knew her name, he could ask to meet her.

And so The Asset went about his business, going to bed that night with a smile on his face for the very first time.

* * *

Tired. So tired. Phyl had gotten a refill of coffee for her flask, taking small sips to keep herself awake on the way to debriefing. Fury knew that she was dangerous to go through a debrief without caffeine, and she was always given five minutes to get a drink before the meeting.

Today was the first day she'd seen her mystery man since he gave her that bone-melting kiss. She lowered her flask, and smiled nervously at him.

"Good morning," she said. Another first; the first time she'd spoken to him. He blinked at her.

"I think you'll find it's afternoon," he said. She groaned, and looked at her watch.

"I'm sorry," she said. "My mind and my body are in different time zones…" She trailed off and touched her stomach, where his words had been tattooed since she was born. She looked up at him, and saw his eyes widening. "Oh."

"This," he said, pulling off a glove. Phyl had dismissed his gloves as a quirk; now it made sense, as she saw what was printed there. 'Good morning'.

"My writing," she said, her heart fluttering like she was a schoolgirl. She smiled.

"You are my soulmate," he said. His accent was hard to pin down, now she thought about it. Euro-American?

"Looks like it," she said. Shyly, she pulled up the middle of her shirt and showed him the words, the ones he'd said to her.

"I think… yes, that's my writing," he said, tracing the words with his right index finger. It tickled.

"You think?" she asked.

"I do not write much."

"But that's definitely my handwriting," Phyl said, lowering her shirt. "What's your name?" He looked at her. Was he as knocked off-course as she was? "Sorry, we haven't been introduced. I'm Phyllis Coulson." She indicated her badge. "Most people call me Phyl. Let's see, since you're tongue-tied. Must say, you have that effect on me. It's nice to see the situations reversed." She fingered his ID badge. "Nathaniel Jones. Nice to meet you—"

"No."

Her stomach dropped. "What?"

"No," he repeated. "That's not… not…"

"Nathaniel? Or do you prefer N—"

"Come," he said, pulling on her arm. Phyl barely noticed dropping her coffee flask, as she tried to keep up with his long strides.

"Where are we going?"

"Don't speak!" he hissed, and his eyes darted around. "They could be listening."

"Who—"

"Them!"

She couldn't catch her breath to continue interrogating him. Her soulmate.

Well, she got what she wished for. Now she was seriously questioning her judgement.

They made it to the basement, and he pulled her into the shadows.

"Can you drive?" he asked.

"Yes, of course."

"Good. Choose a car."

"I have mine—"

"Not yours. One which cannot be found."

She stared at him. "Tell me why."

"Phyllis—"

"Phyl, and tell me why. If you can give me a good reason, I'll do whatever you ask me to. But not just because you're my soulmate."

He bit his lower lip until it was bleeding. Phyl felt compassion blooming inside, and she pulled a small packet of tissues out of her bag. It was compact, and strapped to her body to restrict its movement. She removed one tissue, stuffed the rest back into her bag, and then dabbed the blood away from her soulmate's mouth. He looked anguished, and she was on the brink of agreeing to whatever he wanted just to get that look off his face, when he replied.

"It is not my name," he said. She tilted her head, and wiped off the rest of the blood.

"You're not Nathaniel Jones?" she clarified.

"Correct."

"Then what _is _your name?"

He pursed his lips, causing more blood to pool. She tutted, and wiped it away.

"I do not know," he said. "I am called The Asset. It is one of my names. But I must get you away. Something is wrong. You are safer with me – and away from here – than anywhere else, Phyllis."

"Please call me Phyl."

"Phyl." He stroked her short hair back behind her ear. "Sweet Phyl."

Flustered, she went to stuff the bloodied tissue away when he cupped the back of her neck and kissed her. It wasn't as intense as last time, but Phyl dropped the tissue and grasped her soulmate's upper arms. One felt harder than the other, and she considered asking why. But right now, he said they needed to go, so they would go. Phyl trusted very few people at SHIELD implicitly, and if she couldn't trust her soulmate, then who could she trust? Even though he had no name… but there must have been a reason, and she wasn't finding out what it was just standing around, arguing.

"This way," she muttered, this time the one to tug him where she wanted to go. It was her second least favourite car in the SHIELD fleet, modern, definitely not a classic, and it fit in pretty much anywhere. She stole some of the rarely-used interchangeable plates, beat-up ones which were only used in absolutely emergencies. They were unrecorded, and there were hundreds. She took a spare first aid kit and a spare tool kit, both from near the back of the rows, and threw them in the back of the car. She slid into the driver's seat, glanced at her nameless soulmate – The Asset? – and then started up the car.

"Keep driving," he said. "Do you have a safe-house, something no one knows about?"

"I know a place."

"We must go underground."

"I presume you don't mean the subway."

"The subway?" He frowned. "I do not think so."

"I need to go back to my apart—"

"Too dangerous. We must keep moving."

"But I—"

"Do you have cash?"

"Yes."

"I do not. I have nothing but the clothing I am given."

Phyl shook her head. "What's wrong? There's something. Tell me."

"I am no one. Sometimes I am called the Winter Soldier—"

She'd heard that name. "The assassin?"

"I do what I am told."

"Who? Who tells you?" she demanded.

"HYDRA."

Her chest heaved with panicked breaths.

"My soulmate is HYDRA," she said. "My soulmate is HYDRA. My soulmate is Captain America's enemy."

His head snapped around took look at her. "Captain America?"

"Yes. He's a hero. I've read all of the comic books—"

"I know that name."

"Right. You've heard of the captain, but not the subway."

"I _know_ that name."

She had no idea what the difference was, but clearly there was a difference to him, so she tried to ignore her feelings of foreboding. She failed epically.

"You're HYDRA," she said.

"They tell me what to do. They do not let me remember details of my missions. There is a machine… and they put me in a box. A box of water."

"Water-boarding?"

"It is cold."

Phyl ran through the possibilities in her mind, letting muscle memory take her to the nearest ATM.

"I'll be back in a couple of minutes," she said, unlocking the door. His hand nearly crushed her wrist as he grabbed hold.

"Where are you going?" he asked sharply. She nearly rolled her eyes, and pointed.

"That's an automatic teller machine," she said. "I'm going to withdraw more money from it. I get the feeling we're going to need it, and I don't want to leave an electronic paper trail if I can help it. I can't believe I'm putting my trust in someone who works for HYDRA."

By the time she finished, she had an uneasy idea of what might have been done to her soulmate.

"Tell me," she said, turning the car in the opposite direction as soon as she could. She scrambled the surrounding security footage as soon as they stopped at red lights. "The box. Is the water already cold when you get in?"

"No," he said. "It gets cold. Frozen."

"Cryo," she whispered, horrified. "The machine… does it do things to your head?"

"Yes."

"Brainwashing." Tears came to her eyes, but she blinked them back. Now was not the time to be a little girl. She was a level seven SHIELD agent, best friends with Nicholas Fury and Captain America's biggest fan.

"They 'reset' me."

"Oh my God…" She shook her head again. "I'm so sorry."

In close proximity, she could sense their feelings meeting. He was telling the truth, what he knew as the truth. Soulmates couldn't hide their feelings from each other. If they bonded – and she sort of hoped they would – they could communicate telepathically over long distances, or so she'd heard.

"I do not know what it means to be a soulmate," he said. "Only what I have read."

"You'll remember," she said determinedly. "I'll help you. We'll do whatever it takes to find out who you are."

* * *

The Asset began to remember small details. He was American; he recognised streets as they drove through them, creating a confusing trail for SHIELD and HYDRA. Phyl nearly crashed the car when he told her that HYDRA was part of SHIELD, and it took a great deal of persuading to stop her from calling the director.

"He's been my best friend for years," she said. He felt extreme jealousy when she said that, but tamped it down. It was irrelevant at this moment.

"And you thought you trusted the people there," he said. "How many HYDRA agents are people you consider good friends?"

"I… I don't know."

"Precisely."

They drove. Phyl procured clothes for them from second-hand stores. He watched her while she changed in the back of the car. The blush that travelled from her cheeks and down her chest when she noticed him intensified the longing he felt for her.

After changing the appearance of the car a few times, they reached their destination. They had long since discarded his badge and Phyl's, leaving them behind at SHIELD after using a device to cloak any trackers on them. It was only a temporary measure; but without his memory, he had no idea what HYDRA might have planted on him, and he would not put Phyl in unnecessary danger. Or necessary danger, no matter how well she could handle herself.

"Here," he said, taking the spare bags from her hands. She led him into the small house in the suburbs. He looked around.

"It was my parents'," she said. "SHIELD doesn't know about it. It's a part of my life I keep private. I… I had a happy childhood, and SHIELD isn't always a happy place, so I separate them. The official story is that we're from Boston. Even Nick believes that, and he knows nearly everything about me."

"Not everything, I hope," The Asset said. Phyl's eyes widened.

"Good God, no!" she said. "I waited for my soulmate… for you. It's part of why I couldn't speak to you for so long. No idea what to say." She flushed a deeper red, and he touched her face. "I can be so confident in anything else, but not romance. I wanted to wait, so I did. Nick… he found his soulmate early on, though he won't tell me about whoever it is. Part of the reason I can justify not telling him everything about myself; we're both allowed to keep at least one secret from each other. But…" She looked around, unsure, and stepped closer to him. "This is a huge secret. Not your identity… not until we know what that really is, who you were. Are."

"Were," he agreed.

She sighed. "But that HYDRA has been part of SHIELD for who knows how long? Nick could be in danger. My friends could be in danger."

"Are in danger. Any SHIELD agents who have died… I might have been responsible for some of them, but many were organised by HYDRA. Be thankful that you never crossed them. Until now."

"Why until now?"

He swallowed, and sat beside her on the sofa.

"I have remembered more," he said. "When you said 'Good morning', something inside of me screamed, but I forced myself to ignore it. Now I remember. It was a voice saying 'Kill'." Phyl covered her mouth with a hand. "I believe that I was programmed to eliminate anyone who said my soulmate words to me. HYDRA wants you dead so they can control me. I'm… I am sure of it."

Phyl buried her face in his shoulder. "Why didn't you? If you were programmed, surely—"

"Because I wanted you alive. Because you are my soulmate. Because I had done it to three other people, which…" He shook his head, frustrated and angered by the memories creeping to the forefront of his mind. "Which is why I was only allowed out in the afternoon. I never interacted with people in the morning, except on the few occasions when I was on an overnight mission."

"They didn't want you to be happy."

"Things are not allowed to have feelings. Ordinary people are."

"You're not ordinary," Phyl said gently. "You're extraordinary." She poked his left arm. "Why is this so much harder?"

"I have something else there."

"…Can I see it?"

The Asset still did not know his name. But he knew that she would hate the sight of what he was about to reveal.

"This is why I am not an ordinary human," he said, peeling off his shirt and removing his glove. Phyl stared at the robotic limb. "I am not whole."

She touched the metal arm gingerly, then more firmly. She pulled her hand back when she touched where it joined the skin and he flinched away.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I hurt you."

"It is an old wound," he said. "It feels strange."

"I won't do it again. But may I…?"

He nodded, and she ran a hand up his stomach and chest. Her cheeks were still pink, and she smiled shyly when he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Nice," she said. "Very nice."

"Not as impressive as Steve, but…"

He trailed off, and she cocked her head. "Steve? Who's Steve?"

"I… I do not know. I must have known him."

"A friend?"

"Possibly."

She rubbed up and down his flesh arm. "Come on. Let's get you settled."

* * *

They didn't share a bed. He was insistent on that point, which was charming, and it meant a lot to Phyl, after what she had confessed to him about her inexperience. Perhaps that was why he was so determined to take the guest room? If he was getting over HYDRA brainwashing, it was probably safest to stay apart. And she wanted to know his name before she let him take her to bed.

She didn't have any clothes at her parent's house, which was annoying. The only reason she hadn't let it yet was because she had been so busy. Ridiculous, yes; she could have been earning money by renting it, or even selling. But there was only so much paperwork she wanted floating around in the system. If she was to keep this secret even from Nick, she couldn't risk letting her name be seen on any paperwork. Remarkable foresight on her part.

Besides, the house was private, well-insulated, set apart from others, and had nice memories. There wasn't a great deal beyond basic furniture throughout the house, and a couple of dozen boxes in the attic. She could dig around in them, but there wouldn't be much of any use. Better to keep it tucked away. And he didn't need to see that she didn't play with girly dolls when she was a child, but with Captain America and Howling Commando figurines.

"All right," she said, curling up beside him on the sofa. "We need a plan."

"A plan?" he said. It had been a long day, with a great deal of running around; yet somehow he still looked unruffled. It was distinctly unfair, Phyl thought, considering she probably looked like she'd been pulled through a hedge backwards. She hadn't had time for a shower or a change of clothes yet.

"Yes," she said. "To get your memory back, and somehow let SHIELD know that it's been compromised. I know I can trust Nick. You at least have to let me tell him that I'm alive, and not being held against my will."

"I could," he said, looking down at his hands. She was making him forgo the gloves; what could he hide now? "Very easily hold you against your will. I could do anything. But I will not, because I take care of what is mine. You are all I have." His voice went soft towards the end, and Phyl shifted closer to him.

"We belong to each other," she said, her eyes drifting closed. "Now, what we should do fir…"

But it had been an even longer day for Phyl. She was exhausted, and gave up the struggle to stay awake.

* * *

Nick Fury was pissed off beyond belief as he paced back and forth in the labs.

He'd gone searching for Phyl when she took longer than normal to return with her coffee. He knew the route she would most likely take, and it terrified the hell out of him when he saw the flask on the floor, coffee spilled everywhere, and no Phyl. She didn't answer her phone, and it wasn't in the vicinity. He hacked the security footage immediately, and saw an unfamiliar agent pulling her through the building, down towards the parking lot. There, he found a bloodied tissue, and was having it analysed right now.

There were many cars gone. Phyl's three favourite cars were still there; if she'd been coerced, she would have chosen one of them as a way of letting Nick know. Either she had been kidnapped, or left of her own volition with the stranger.

Nick had never seen him before.

Why would Phyl allow a stranger to drag her away? She could've fought him off; his best friend was a hellcat like that. Unless the stranger was enhanced?

"Sir?" one of the scientists said. "We ran the test, but there's something strange about the blood. It can't be Agent Coulson's."

"How long will it take to find out who it belongs to?"

"If we work hard at it and use the best tech available? Could manage it in half a day, if we're lucky."

"Get to it," Nick said. "And you." He pointed at a technician. "Keep running facial recognition. I wanna know exactly who's taken one of my best agents."

If Phyl had gone against her will, and was playing the weak damsel, chances are she'd be back by the evening, or at least contact him. Damn it, she _knew_ he would worry about her until then. What the hell was taking her so long?

* * *

Eventually, The Asset conceded that Phyl needed to tell her friend that she was alive, as he probably already assumed the worst. She sent an encrypted message, before switching off her phone again to preserve battery and turning to him.

"We need food," she said.

"I cannot let you go out without me," he replied firmly.

"Sweet—"

"Do not call me that. I would rather know my name."

"All right," she said. "Get dressed, and we'll go to the shops. They're within easy walking distance."

They had stowed the car in the garage. There were no security cameras in the residential streets, so once they passed the shops they could have gone anywhere. Phyl had stopped scrambling the CCTV once they left the city, knowing it would leave a trail. If the shops were a walk away, there was no need to take the car out, which was good.

Phyl came back downstairs with a bag on wheels.

"It's a personal shopping trolley," she said. "It belonged to my mother. I found it in the attic."

"I will carry things," he said.

"Yes, but this will hold a lot as well. If we want to stay in as much as possible… and I'm starving after yesterday. I don't think I've had anything to eat since before I got back from the mission."

The Asset berated himself. He was supposed to look after his soulmate, not starve her.

"Also," she continued, her eyes cast to the floor, "when we get back… maybe we should bond?"

"Why?"

"I'll understand if you don't want to," she said as her cheeks turned pink. "I know I'm not much… but—"

"You are lovely," he said, cupping her elbows. Her eyes met his.

"If you really think we're in danger, then it's for the best," she said. "We can find each other, read each other's thoughts. Maybe it will help you remember who you are?"

"Or maybe it will affect you adversely," he pointed out. "We cannot know."

"No. But if you don't mind bonding with me—"

"Not until I at least remember who I am. You shouldn't bond with someone nameless."

She opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again.

"Very well," she said.

Relieved that she saw the sense in what he said, The Asset followed her out the door, on alert for potential predators.

* * *

Phyl always stopped by the comic shop when she was in the area. Her soulmate wouldn't let her go in by herself, so he trailed her with bags from the pharmacy and clothing stores in his hands. Phyl pulled the trolley behind her as she went straight for the area with the comic books.

"Sixtieth anniversary," she said. "I've been so busy, I can't believe I missed it."

"Anniversary of what?" he asked.

"Among other things, the end of the war. But also the anniversaries of two of my heroes dying to protect their country." She sighed, knowing that she probably had a dreamy smile on her face. Her soulmate would have to get used to her childhood crushes on Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. She picked up the anniversary book, and made a note to come back and buy more things once the danger had passed and she could use her bank cards again. But this would do for now. It would be the perfect introduction to her obsession. Her soulmate seemed to have been living under a rock, thanks to HYDRA. He probably had no idea who Captain America… but no. He'd recognised the name.

"Are you ready?" he asked as she paid. Phyl thanked the old man who'd run the store since her childhood, and then nodded as she preceded her soulmate out the door.

"Let's go home," she said. Silly to call it home when he might still object to bonding with her. She wished they could marry officially, but in the eyes of the world soul bonding was as good as a wedding, and far more traditional. Weddings were formalities, a prelude to bonding. They didn't mean as much in a world where people lived together first, built their own lives without assistance from others. She wasn't all that keen on the security risk either, to tell the truth.

Not to mention the paper trail. She would just have to try to be more convincing. With any luck, the lingerie she had purchased would serve more than just a practical use.

Back at the house, they performed a perimeter check, reluctantly parting to tackle it faster. Satisfied, they entered the house. Her soulmate checked every room while Phyl unpacked in the kitchen. The frozen things were all right in their insulated bags, but she put them away first to be on the safe side. It felt like an age before he returned to her side, and poked at the few things she had left to unload into the pantry.

"Would you like help finding the recipe books?" he asked. Phyl had told him that there were cookbooks upstairs, ones she had copied from.

"That would be great, thank you," she said.

* * *

He smiled as Phyl railed to herself for the fifth time about the fact that she had not labelled the boxes before shoving them into the attic.

"Don't know how I would've sorted through them if I tried to donate stuff," she grumbled. She glanced at him, flushed with embarrassment. "I'm not usually this disorganised or scatter-brained. You really haven't seen me at my best. I was always too tongue-tied to speak to you. If I wasn't so tired yesterday…"

He reached out and clasped her hand briefly. "I am glad you did."

She beamed, and it could have lit the entire room if there were not already lights. They both returned to cutting through the tape on the boxes. He paused, and pulled out several books with that same shield on the front, the one he'd seen on the book Phyl bought today. There were trinkets as well.

"What are these?" he asked, poking through them. Phyl gasped, and hurried to his side.

"Oh my God, how humiliating," she muttered. "You found my toys."

"Toys?" He pulled out a soldier doll, and raised his eyes. "From when you were a child?"

"Yes." She groaned as she pulled some of them out. "I could never let them go. They wouldn't be worth anything as collectibles, but these guys… they inspired me to become who I am. Someone to fight against the bullies of the world. Although I doubt Captain America would necessarily approve of the way SHIELD works. And… and HYDRA was part of us all along." She bowed her head. He could feel her sorrow, and tilted her head up.

"You are in no way like those bastards," he said. "Never forget that."

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she sighed through her nose.

"Thank you," she said. "It's terrible, knowing that they were right under my nose the whole time."

"I like your nose," he said, stroking along it with his metal thumb. She didn't blink; just smiled behind his hand.

"You're sweet," she said. "And… and you've seen my toys." She sat back on her heels, breaking the moment. "Well, it's not too bad. Aside from the fact that I have a bit of a crush on the men they're based on."

"A crush?"

"They're my idols."

"Hmph."

"Aw, don't be jealous." She nudged him, picking up one of the books. "This is supposed to be the most accurate story about the Captain and the Howling Commandoes. I adore them – they were so brave – but my favourites are Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. Captain America and his best friend. I don't know, but I've always been more drawn towards Bucky… Hey. What's wrong?"

He realised that he was staring into space, and looked down at her when she poked him.

"Bucky?" he said. "Who is Bucky?"

"You… you know the name Captain America but you don't know James Buchanan Barnes?"

The Asset stood and walked to the other side of the attic. He heard Phyl coming after him, and tried not to flinch at her touch.

"Please tell me what's wrong," she said. "Let me help."

He shook his head. "Something is there. Something… Damn it!" He scrunched his hands in his hair, and noticed Phyl take a step back. "Why does it feel familiar? Why does it feel cold when I think about them? Why… why do I feel like I was _there_?"

"I… I don't know why," Phyl said. "Cold?"

"Falling. I dream about falling and the cold. Last night it felt clearer than ever. I thought I heard someone call a name, and I went to your bedroom to check on you, but you were still asleep."

"I think I felt you near. I dreamt about you last night. Never…" She blushed. "Never had… _that_ kind of dream before."

"Oh." He cleared his throat. "It feels… Why do I know their names?"

"Well, I know what happened to most of the Howling Commandoes," Phyl said. "And to Captain America. He went down in a plane saving the world. But he was blond, and you're…"

Her eyes widened as she trailed off. In a movement which almost sent him reeling, she bolted back to the box and picked up the book she had shown him. She flipped through the pages frantically, until she came to a stop. The moment she fell to her knees, he ran forward. She sobbed once, and he pulled her close. He never wanted to see her cry.

"What is it?" he asked as she shook. "Phyl?"

"Bucky," she whispered. "You're… you look like…"

She showed him the page. There was a photograph of a group of men. One held the shield – Captain America? – and the others must have been the Howling Commandoes Phyl had told him about. And the man standing next to Steve…

"Is it you?" Phyl asked softly, her mouth pressed against his neck. "You could be him, about a decade or so older. If you've been in and out of cryopreservation, that would explain why you look so young. Physiologically…"

"Yes," he said, his throat thick. It felt like he was watching the scene from a distance as he pulled Phyl closer against his side. "Do you have… any other pictures?"

"There are some. Here." She picked up one of the dolls, and held it up to him. "This is my Bucky Barnes doll."

"Pictures."

"Of… of course. Maybe the new book has them? I don't know where my other Captain America biographies would be…" She looked around, shrugging at the mess of boxes. He shook his head.

"You wanted to help me," he said. "This is how you can. We must find another picture."

* * *

There were excellent photographs in the sixtieth anniversary book. Sixty years since Bucky Barnes disappeared. Had he been at SHIELD the whole time, under HYDRA's thumb? God, she couldn't imagine it. But from the little he'd told her – that he was American, that he was a sniper, that he remembered cold and falling – it was entirely possible. She showed him the best picture, and then held it beside his face.

"If only it was in colour," she said. "But… no. It's uncanny. Unless he had a son…"

"No. I think… I'm him."

He seemed so helpless. Phyl took him by the arm.

"Go to bed," she told him. "Rest your body, and your mind will follow. Then you might remember more."

"Stay with me," he said quietly. "Not in bed; I could hurt you. But if you stay down here while I am up there, possibly unaware of the rest of the world… that would be just the time for HYDRA to strike."

"Yes, if life was like a movie." He frowned, but she saw the vulnerability there. Rather than make him beg, she nodded. "All right. I'll stay with you. There's an armchair in there. I'll bring my new book."

When it reached one o'clock, Phyl considered going downstairs to make lunch, but her soulmate… Bucky Barnes? He was right; it would be just their luck if HYDRA found them while they were separated inside the same building, before they had a chance to bond. She considered waking him out of his daze. Chances are, he ate erratically. He picked at his food this morning, and she'd had difficulty getting him to choose what he wanted to eat. If this really was all true… she had a long, difficult job ahead of her.

* * *

By dinner time, Phyl was starving, and worried about her soulmate. He was clearly going through some anguished memories, and it hurt her heart every time he whimpered or cried or begged for mercy, not to lose his memories, not to lose Steve, to lose Phyl…

She held his flesh hand, and found that its grip was as tight as steel. She stayed by his side, ignoring his order to keep away from the bed. When he woke, it was dark outside, and the room was lit only by the bedside lamp. Once he began to cling on to her hand like a lifeline, he hadn't let go, limiting her movements.

"Phyl?" he rasped.

"I'm here."

"You… you shouldn't… you shouldn't be so close…"

"I couldn't let you do this on your own," she said, lying beside him now that he was back in reality. "I'm your soulmate."

"I could've hurt you." He noticed his grip and let go. "I _did_ hurt you. Shit." He picked up her hand, which was purpling where his fingers had clamped down. Gently, he massaged it until Phyl was no longer wincing. He kissed the back of her hand, and she smiled.

"Thank you," she said softly. He shook his head.

"I'm dangerous," he said.

"I know that. I knew that the minute you dragged me down to the garage at SHIELD."

"Why would you trust me like that?"

"Because… you're my soulmate."

He snorted, and sat up, still lightly stroking her injured hand. "You shouldn't put such faith in that. Look at what I did to you. I'm as bad as one of those men who beat their wives."

"No!" she said, sitting up and holding him from behind. "You didn't know what you were doing. If I thought I couldn't handle it, I would've put a stop to it. I'm not some helpless maiden who always needs rescuing, or needs a reality check so she can get herself out of a bad situation. I'm a level seven agent of SHIELD, and you're my soulmate. I should be terrified, but I'm not."

He turned his head halfway.

"I am Bucky Barnes, you know," he said. She nodded.

"I figured as much, from what you were saying when you…"

"When I was recalibrating myself."

"Something like that."

He nodded. "I was born decades before you, Phyl."

"I've read your story a hundred times. I know you're probably not the same man you were before—"

"Definitely not."

"But… I'd like to get to know the man you are now." She rested her head on his shoulder. "The man who walks around SHIELD in a formal suit and combat boots." She chuckled. "I knew you were a bad boy at heart. Have you worn much leather?"

"You like that?" he asked, smirking at her. She shivered.

"Very much," she admitted.

"I did wear leather as the Winter Soldier, but not so much before that. Whatever we could get hold of, really. Then I joined up, and it was a uniform after that."

"Mmm, I think you'd look handsome in a uniform. More handsome than you already are, that is."

He ducked his head, cheeks turning a little pink. Phyl felt a surge of power, that she could make him do that. She'd read that he was a real charmer. There was still a spark of that. Maybe she was bringing it out? But there was something important to do…

Then her stomach gurgled. Bucky glanced at her, and she let go of him.

"Missed lunch," she said. "Want dinner now?"

"Yeah," he said, looking her up and down. "You said something before about bonding, so we never lose track of each other. Did you mean that?" She nodded shyly. "Then you'll definitely need your energy."

The implications made her head spin.

* * *

Bucky was glad to have his memories back. Glad and horrified. Unfortunately, he could also remember every hit he'd ever made for HYDRA.

Including the three times he killed someone for saying 'Good morning' to him. Crushing their throats with the hand bearing those words. It made him feel sick. The thought that he could have killed his soulmate, killed _Phyl_…

But he didn't. Maybe it was because he already wanted her, maybe it was because she was his real soulmate. Whatever it was, it saved her.

"I'll bond with you, when you're ready," he told her after dinner. They'd finished doing the dishes by hand, and Phyl was putting away the placemats while Bucky stowed the coasters where he was shown. She paused, and looked over at him.

"You really do want to bond with me?" she said. "We don't have to… it's just for practical purposes… but if you want a platonic—"

He swooped over, backed her up against the cupboard, and kissed her. He wasn't going to let her spout any more nonsense about not wanting her. He'd never wanted anything more than to join with her. If he hadn't shown her that with their first kiss, he didn't know what else to do that would convince her to cast aside any insecurities and just… just let him show her how much he loved…

He loved her.

"I love you," he murmured against her lips. "Phyl, let me take you to bed. Not tonight, if you're not ready. But as soon as you snap your fingers, I'm gonna come running."

She stared up at him, smiling deliriously. "I love you, too. I'd… I'd like to shower first, and brush my teeth. And we should maybe watch the news, and I need to check my phone, see if Nick's sent a reply. But after all that… yeah. Yes. Please bond with me."

"In _every_ sense of the word?"

She licked her lips. "Yes," she said.

"Your voice is trembling. _You're_ trembling."

"N-not for the reason you think. Well, partly nerves, but mainly…"

He raised an eyebrow. "Anticipation?"

"That's an understatement."

"Well." He gave her the Bucky Barnes Smile that always made the girls swoon. Given Phyl's reaction, he still had it. "I can work with that."

* * *

She snuggled back into his warmth as he held her afterwards. There was a definite ache and stickiness between her legs. She'd bought medical supplies so that they could cut out their trackers eventually. If she wasn't a field agent, she might've been tempted to remove her contraceptive implant as well, but as long as she was a working SHIELD agent risking her life to make the world a better place, she wasn't going to allow herself to fall pregnant. Not even when Bucky – or James, as she called him at his request – had put his hand on her belly to seal the bond, and made some remark about cradling a baby bump from behind. She'd punched him on the arm for that. (Unfortunately, because she was right-handed, she hit the metal one. Good thing it was her uninjured hand.)

Bucky snuffled into the back of her neck, and she nearly giggled like a schoolgirl at the ticklish feeling. SHIELD agents did not giggle like schoolgirls over that.

James Barnes, the man she'd had a crush on since she was thirteen, who she'd later had a crush on when she thought he was just another agent, was her soulmate. It was hard to believe. Until he beamed that smile she'd seen in a few photos and video footage, the one that made her feel weak in the knees. Waves of affection kept crashing over her whenever she thought of him, and his adoring presence in her mind was comforting.

"Glad to hear it," he mumbled into her skin. "Now get to sleep, Phyl. We've got an enemy organisation to bring down, and we're not gonna do it on an hour of sleep."

"_You_ get to sleep," she said, tugging his arm closer over her body. He chuckled.

"Yes, dear," he said.

* * *

**Wow. This ended up quite long, didn't it? Cripes. Ah well.**

**So I feel I should mention that this series of unconnected one-shot soulmate AUs was inspired by ozhawk's 'Soulmate Shorts'. The only story ideas I seem to be coming up with lately are soulmate AUs, which is frustrating, but also fun. Oops. As long as my readers are happy with it, I'm happy.**

**Please review!**


	3. The Bird, the Nerd, the Merc (BMxJSxLH)

**Note: Much of the early dialogue taken from the script for 'A Hen in the Wolf House', found on the Springfield! Springfield! Website. I haven't written much of Hunter and Bobbi before – really only in 'A La Coulson' – so I hope it's okay. I came up with the idea in the morning, and couldn't get back to sleep because of it. It's all ozhawk's fault, but she insisted that I write this, so… yeah.**

"The Bird, the Nerd, and the Merc"

The chief of security at HYDRA stalked between the workers. Jemma met her eyes briefly, and hoped that her blush wouldn't be misinterpreted as guilt. The woman looked away again almost immediately, and Jemma felt behind her for the table. She leaned against it, and glanced at Turgeon when he chuckled.

"Good-looking, isn't she?" he remarked. She smiled weakly.

"An understatement," she said. He turned back to his desk, and she began thanking every deity she could think of, including Thor, that no one suspected her yet.

For all that Skye thought Jemma couldn't lie to save her life, she'd been doing a bang-up job so far. Now if she could only keep her cool in front of Agent Morse, she would be fine. The fact that the woman made her feel tongue-tied, however, could prove to be a problem.

* * *

"Dr. Jemma Simmons," she said, scanning a file. "This is quite an impressive résumé." Jemma hummed, fighting the urge to look down at her hands, and Agent Morse half-smiled at her. "SHIELD Academy, top of your class, two PHDs in very advanced fields. It even says here you spent time in the field as a SHIELD agent. Is that correct?"

"Only a short time," Jemma said.

Agent Morse's eyes snapped up, and Jemma's breath caught. She swallowed.

"No," the agent murmured. Bakshi coughed, and she straightened. "You've only been in HYDRA a short time. But it seems that you've been affiliated with SHIELD in one capacity or another for most of your life."

"To be fair, aren't most HYDRA agents ex-SHIELD operatives, who were working from within SHIELD long before it fell?"

Agent Morse opened and closed her mouth, and then turned her head to Bakshi. "Can we have a moment?" He tilted his head. "If you could just wait outside, thanks."

He frowned minutely, but left them alone together. Agent Morse stood up, and Jemma's stomach dropped. She felt paralysed; her mouth was dry. And her eyes widened as Agent Morse opened her jacket and pulled up her shirt.

'_Only a short time_.' In Jemma's writing.

Finally. Jemma slowly stood, and pushed her blouse up. She turned to display '_Dr. Jemma Simmons. This is quite an impressive résumé. SHIELD Academy, top of your class, two PHDs in very advanced fields. It even says here you spent time in the field as a SHIELD agent. Is that correct?_' on her lower back. She felt a finger trace the words, and shivered at the hint of a long nail.

"Huh," Agent Morse said.

"Indeed," Jemma replied.

"My name is Barbara, but no one calls me that, not even my ex-husband."

"Ex-husband?"

"Our soulmate. We were empty without our third, and split up because we fought too much. But now you… could bring us together again." She tugged Jemma's top back down, and arranged her own clothes back into place. "I have work to do, but I'll let you go for now. We need to talk again later."

Jemma turned, biting her lower lip, and looked up at her soulmate with shiny eyes. "If you like," she said.

"Oh, I like," Agent Morse said, and she smirked as she looked Jemma over. "I like very much, Dr. Simmons." She rubbed Jemma's arms, and pecked her on the lips. "Go back to work. See you sometime after lunch, okay?"

She nodded, speechless, and left the room. Her skin crawled as Bakshi eyed her.

* * *

Of course her soulmate had to be HYDRA. That was just Jemma's luck lately, wasn't it?

And… judging by the pictures on every HYDRA computer, Barbara Morse was about to find out. What were the odds that Jemma would leave the building alive? Slim to none, she realised, as security rounded the corner, led by Agent Morse.

Jemma took a step back. Damn it, she should've taken more self-defence lessons. There was no way she could take on even one field agent, let alone two or three.

…Then her soulmate took out the others, and dragged Jemma through the corridors. Her heart raced, and she stared at the woman.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful," she said, "because I truly am grateful, but who are you?"

"Bobbi Morse. Coulson sent me in to infiltrate HYDRA and keep an eye on you."

Just the name 'Coulson' was enough to lift Jemma's spirits. "Well, you did a spot-on job, really. You were quite intimidating."

Bobbi – Jemma supposed she could use that name – smiled wryly. "Sorry about that, honey. If I'd known you were one of my soulmates, I would've gone about it differently from the start."

"Oh, no problem," Jemma said. She twisted her arm so that she could lace their fingers together. "Where are we going? I'm afraid there's no way I'm walking out that front door."

"Okay, don't worry," Bobbi said. "All we have to do is get to the roof. There's already an extraction team there waiting." She gave Jemma her instructions as they neared the stairwell.

"Be careful," Jemma said before they parted. She pulled Bobbi close, and gave her a much more thorough kiss than the one they'd shared in the interrogation room. Bobbi's cheeks were a bit pink by the time they pulled apart, and she tapped Jemma's backside as she sent her upstairs.

* * *

"Welcome home, Agent Simmons," Phil said as Jemma disembarked, followed closely by Bobbi.

"Director Coulson," Jemma said.

"I'm glad to have you back."

"I'm just glad to be alive," she admitted, and Bobbi stopped beside her, slipping an arm around her waist. "If it wasn't for Bobbi, I would never have made it out. Probably be brainwashed, happy to comply to who knows what." She beamed up at the woman. "She's amazing. I'm so lucky."

"Lucky?" Phil asked, looking from one to the other. Understanding seemed to hit him, judging by the way his eyebrows leapt up. "I see…" He laughed softly. "Well. That's even more incentive for her to join the team."

Jemma's smile faded as she noticed Fitz. Bobbi patted her back, and Jemma drifted over to her best friend.

"Hi, Fitz," she said.

"Simmons?" he said, and his expression changed. "Is that really you?"

"Of course it is! Who else would it be?" She hesitated. "How've you been?"

"I've, uh… been… okay. You?"

"Found one of my soulmates," Jemma burst out. Fitz's eyes widened, and she mentally berated herself. But it was best for him to find out from her. "The agent who saved me. She works for Coulson. That's her, there." She pointed, and Fitz pursed his lips. "I'm sorry, Fitz, but you knew it would happen. Have you…?"

"No," he said shortly. "Well done. I should… uh… say the thing to her. For saving you."

"The thing?"

"The thing!" He waved his hands, growing agitated. "Where you say… uh…"

"Thank you?" Mack piped up, brow furrowed a little. Fitz nodded.

"Thank you," he said. "I have to say thank you to her."

Jemma turned when her name was called. Bobbi held out a hand. Jemma held up her index finger to say 'one moment'.

"I'll talk to you later, all right?" she asked. Fitz nodded again, shortly. She paused, but then went to her soulmate's side.

"Jemma, this is Lance Hunter," Bobbi said, indicating the bearded man in front of her. Jemma smiled at him politely. "Hunter's _my_ _ex-husband_." Her jaw dropped, and Hunter raised an eyebrow. "Hunter, this is the legendary Dr. Jemma Simmons."

"It's lovely to meet you, and apparently we're soulmates," Jemma blurted. She heard Bobbi snort in laughter, and ducked her head. She shook Hunter's hand when he offered it, and glanced up to see his warm, surprised smile.

"I really hope that's true, love," he said, "because you're the cutest doctor I've ever seen."

"Oh." Those were indeed her other set of words. Both had gotten her through the toughest times in her life, the days when others bullied her for studying too much, for not having a clear enough complexion, for not participating in sports. She would someday be a scientist, and one of her soulmates would call her the cutest doctor he or she had ever seen, reassuring her. And now it was finally happening.

"She's had a big day," Bobbi told Phil. "I think she needs a rest. We'll make sure she gets to her bedroom safely. Won't we, Hunter?"

"Absolutely," he said, looking Jemma up and down. "Gladly. Lead on."

Jemma waited for Phil to say something; he was her boss, after all. He shrugged.

"Debriefing can wait," he said. He narrowed his eyes. "_All_ debriefing can wait."

"Whatever you say, Papa Wolf," Hunter muttered.

"_Sir_!" Jemma hissed at Phil. There was a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Your father's not here," he said. "Besides, I'm sure you'd prefer to get to know each other first, and your friends will want to catch up with you. You've got four hours, then I expect you and Agent Morse in my office. And Hunter, if he can't tear himself away from you."

"Can you blame me?" Hunter said. Phil rolled his eyes.

"Four. Hours," he said. "Simmons, I get the feeling you're going to have to be the one to keep them in line."

"I'll do my best, sir," she said cheekily. They took it as a dismissal, and she led Hunter and Bobbi to her room, such as it was. There certainly wouldn't be enough space for all three of them in bed, so that was something to think about. Even considering that made her flush brighter red. She'd only just met the both of them that very day, and they had a long history together which she couldn't hope to match.

Her heart pounded as she felt Hunter take her left hand, and Bobbi take her right. There was just enough room for the three of them to walk abreast.

"What the hell did you do to your hair, Bobbi?" Hunter asked. Jemma glanced at him, and then at Bobbi, who was scowling.

"It's called going undercover, Hunter," she said.

"I liked you better as a blonde."

"I think she looks lovely no matter the colour of her hair," Jemma said tentatively, squeezing their hands. "Don't you think so, Hunter?"

His face softened, and he nudged her shoulder with his. "Of course," he said. "And you can call me Lance. If I can call you Jemma?"

"Why, of course," she said, blinking rapidly. "We're soulmates."

"It was hard," Bobbi said quietly. Jemma looked up at her, and they stopped in the corridor when Bobbi chewed her lower lip and slowed down. "Being together, without you."

"It doesn't help that you changed after we married," Hunter muttered. "What's that old joke? A man marries a woman expecting her to stay the same, and she changes, whereas a woman marries a man expecting to change him, and he stays the same?"

"It was nothing to do with marriage," Bobbi said. Hunter frowned at her. "Okay, partly to do with that. You were old enough, and we thought it wouldn't be long before we found you." She laughed hollowly. "Guess we found out why soulmate triads don't marry until all three are together."

"I'm so sorry," Jemma murmured. "And my words on you weren't much to go by."

"I'd like to see your words," Hunter said. Jemma blushed at the look in his eyes, as his gaze slid down her body and up again.

"Not out in the open," she replied. "It's… not far to my room."

"Lead on, then."

It was, in fact, only another two doors down. She checked, and all her things were still in place. She'd have to raid her flat, assuming it hadn't been torn apart by HYDRA goons, and bring back the few sentimental objects she'd risked taking with her.

"Come in," she said, gesturing her soulmates – her _soulmates_! – into the room. She felt crowded almost immediately; they were virtually strangers to her, and she feared that she had nothing in common with them, aside from words on their skin.

"I haven't even had a kiss," Hunter said. Jemma wasn't facing him, and she nearly squeaked. "I mean, you don't have to…"

"No," she said, turning around. "I'd like to. You're very handsome." He smirked, and she twisted her hands. "It's been a very peculiar day. Terrifying, really. I believe… I could use the comfort."

He held his arms open, and Jemma stepped into his warmth. He enfolded her close, and rubbed their noses together until Jemma took the initiative and met his lips. It was different to Bobbi's kiss, of course, and the scratch of stubble along Jemma's chin and jawbone was… softer than she'd expected, actually. It didn't have the scratch of nails, but was harsh enough to make her shiver. She felt an extra set of hands rest on her hips, and Bobbi pressing up behind her.

"Where are your other words, Jemma?" she asked. Jemma managed to tear her mouth away from Hunter's, and she felt rather smug when he complained.

"Uh… on my inner thigh," she said.

"Right leg?"

"Yes."

"Huh."

"What?"

"What Bobbi's trying – and failing – to imply," Hunter said, "is that my words for you are on my left hip. I'm guessing that Bobbi's are on your lower back?" Jemma nodded, giddy with the implications. "Mine for her are on her back, and hers are on the inside of my right arm. It's an indication of—"

"The way we must be arranged when we bond," Jemma said, and she buried her face in his chest. He laughed. "I'd like to get to know both of you first, before… before we get to that. And introduce you to my parents."

"Go to England?" Bobbi asked. "I guess we could ask Coulson – nicely – if we can hitch a lift."

"No, no," Jemma said. "We can Skype them on a secure channel. They know what I do for a living."

"Really?" Hunter said. "That isn't safe… Why are you laughing, Bobbi?"

"Because," Bobbi replied, "she's Peggy Carter's granddaughter."

"My mother worked for SHIELD since she was a teenager," Jemma said. "She met my father through the services. Fitz knows none of this. I was raised on stories about Captain America and the Howling Commandoes, and it was clear from the beginning that I would end up working for SHIELD in some capacity. Even as a child, I was used as a decoy occasionally, and SHIELD funded my education. My codename was Mini Carter. Although my dad sometimes calls me Minnie Mouse."

"That's sweet," Bobbi said, stroking Jemma's hair. "We'd love to talk to your parents."

"What about your parents?" Jemma asked, looking up at her. Bobbi's hand paused.

"Orphan," she said.

"I'm so sorry."

"It happened a long time ago. Don't worry about it. I'm sure they would've loved you."

Jemma leaned back into her arms, and looked up at Hunter. "Do you have any family, Lance?"

He snorted. "No mother, an absent father, and two brothers. One brother has apparently just returned to the UK, but the other lives in New York."

"Can I meet him?"

"I'd… really prefer you not to."

"Wouldn't he like me?"

"He's… uh…"

"Sherlock's an acquired taste," Bobbi said, sounding amused.

"Yes, let's go with the understatement of the century."

"Because I only know normal people," Jemma deadpanned. Hunter looked at her, and then at Bobbi.

"Okay," he said. "I'll try to conference call with Mycroft as well."

* * *

The phone call to Jemma's parents had to be quick, in case HYDRA tried to tap the conversation. It would take them at least a minute to break through, and there'd be fifteen seconds of warning.

"You look after our Minnie Mouse for us, you hear?" Jemma's father said sternly, addressing both Bobbi and Hunter. "Don't think we won't call in a favour from Nick Fury."

"Did you hear that Sharon is working for the CIA now?" Jemma's mother said. "I'll send you her new number, in case you need help."

"Thanks, Mum. Talk to you both later."

"It was lovely meeting you, Barbara, Lance."

Hunter complained bitterly about his oldest brother having to fake his own death, and making it damn near impossible to get in touch with him. But they were able to get through to the middle brother, and an ordinary-looking room with brown floorboards and a chair in the middle showed up on the screen. Jemma could see a bit of family resemblance with the scruffy-looking man slouched in the seat. An Asian woman walked into the room with two mugs, and handed one to him.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked.

"You remember Bobbi, don't you?" Hunter said. Bobbi waved.

"We haven't met," the woman with Sherlock said. "I'm Joan Watson. I work with Sherlock."

"I'm Bobbi, Hunter's… Lance's soulmate and ex-wife," Bobbi said.

"This is Jemma, our third," Hunter said, gesturing to her. "She's a doctor."

"No kidding," Joan said, and she took a sip of her drink. "Me too. I'm an ex-surgeon."

"I'm a scientist," Jemma said. "Bio-science. Although I'm the team doctor as well, I suppose."

"And are you a trained killer, too?" Sherlock asked bluntly. Jemma cocked her head.

"I'm not a mercenary," she said. "I work in the lab."

"Huh."

"I didn't even know that Sherlock had a younger brother until today," Joan said, and she smacked Sherlock's shoulder. He glared up at her, although it seemed to be his default expression.

"Mycroft is in the government, and I'm a consulting detective," Sherlock said. "It's hardly going to crop up in conversation that I have a brother ten years younger than me who happens to be an assassin-for-hire."

"I guess not."

"Thank God he changed his name."

"Who'd hire a merc named Sherrinford Holmes?" Hunter said. "It was a professional necessity. And I'm on the side of the good guys now, you'll be pleased to hear."

"But still killing people, I presume?" Sherlock said.

"Sherrinford?" Jemma said.

"I got the worst out of the lot. No wonder I was bullied at school."

"And I suppose you're now going to complain that that was what set you on your career path?" Sherlock remarked.

Hunter scowled at him, but addressed Jemma. "I used the codename Lance Hunter a few times in the SAS, and decided that it would be a good one to continue using when I became a… a hired gun."

"Well, congratulations," Joan said. "When did you meet each other?"

"I only met them two days ago," Jemma said.

"We're pleased for you. Aren't we, Sherlock?" she added pointedly. He nodded.

"Try not to screw up your new relationship," he said. Then he ended the conversation, and Hunter swore into his hands.

"Don't judge me based on my family," he muttered.

"I'd never do that," Jemma said. "Sherlock is quite… interesting."

"That's one word for it," Bobbi said. "Hey, we're not likely to meet him in person. Consider yourself lucky that he didn't start deducing every little thing about you."

"Deducing?"

"I'll explain later."

"I think Mycroft and Sherlock are pissed that I haven't been using our genetic genius the same way they do," Hunter said. "But the world can only take so many Holmeses."

"One's enough for me," Jemma said, wrapping her arms around him. "Now, I must go. I promised to have tea with Skye and catch up, and since it's… awkward with Fitz at the moment, judging by our failed attempt at a conversation…"

"We understand," Bobbi said, and she kissed Jemma's hair. "Hunter and I need to catch up as well. Find out where we went wrong last time, so we can make sure it won't happen again."

"It won't," Jemma said, standing, and she smiled brightly at them. "It'll be the three of us together from now on."

* * *

Over the next few weeks, they spent the time together that they could between missions, while also trying to hang out with their friends. Fitz was still short with Jemma, and she could sort of understand it, especially now that she had found her soulmates. It worried her that he might still have some lingering romantic feelings, and there was nothing she could do about them. If only he'd found his soulmate…

"I never told you," Fitz said. He was tinkering, and it was just the two of them in the lab while Jemma studied blood samples under the microscope. She looked up, trying to hide her hopeful expression.

"Told me what?" she asked.

"I met him. My… my, uh…"

"Soulmate?"

"Yes," he said. "That."

"But…" She blinked, and straightened up. "But, Fitz, why didn't you say?"

"`Cause I don't know who it was," he said. "The, uh, the words… only spoken one… one time, you see?"

"You don't remember what he looks like?" she said.

"N-no," he said, shaking his head. "Uh, it was dark. A… a thing where the lights go out."

"A blackout?"

"Yeah. My eyes were getting used to it, and I ran into someone. He said the words, I said something back. But people… noise… and I had to get to the, uh… this place."

"The lab."

He nodded. "No clue who it was. And we were… were friends then."

"We can still be friends," Jemma said gently. "If we can find out the days there were blackouts at the academy—"

"No," Fitz said. "A base."

"All right. We'll look up any blackouts – there should be records – and find out who was on base that day, and narrow it down to people who don't have a soulmate listed."

"No… no one will…"

"No one will what, Fitz?"

"W-want me like this."

"Oh, Fitz." She touched his shoulder. He tensed, but didn't pull away.

"Didn't want anyone else, but now that you've got…" He gestured towards the door, and she smiled sadly.

"I don't know them half as well as I know you, but we're meant to be, and you're meant to be with someone else. We just have to find him. What did you say when you met him? They don't record the words on people who've found their soulmate or soulmates, but if he noted it down and thought you might have recorded yours…"

"Should've done it, I s'pose," Fitz muttered.

"Never mind," Jemma said, and she squeezed his hand. "We'll find him."

"Because you don't want me to be… just me."

She hesitated, and looked at the doorway. "You'll never be alone, Fitz. You've got us. Above all, you have me, and you have Mack as well."

"I _don't_ have Mack! Why would he…?"

"Well, if I'd known you just didn't recognise my voice, maybe I would've told you sooner, Turbo," Mack said. Jemma felt slightly guilty for the way Fitz spun around to stare at the tall mechanic entering the room. Then his words registered.

"Are you Fitz's soulmate?" she asked.

"How many Scottish SHIELD agents do we have working in America?" Mack asked, never taking his eyes off Fitz. "When we met, I thought it was you, but I wasn't sure. It's not like I got to see a sample of your handwriting." He stopped right in front of Fitz, who was staring, bug-eyed, up at him. Jemma backed off. "I guess one America accent sounds like another, when it's mixed in with others."

"I thought your voice was far away because I nearly fell down," Fitz said. Slowly, he rested a hand on Mack's chest. "Damn, you're hard." Mack snorted, and Fitz turned red. "I thought I was gonna have bruises for days from just running into you."

"I'll, uh." Jemma cleared her throat, well aware that they were staring at each other. "I'll just leave you alone now, shall I? Yes. See you later."

She waited until she was out the door before she squealed, and ran off to find Skye.

* * *

**I like hopeful endings, and I like Fitzmack. So there.**

**Please review!**


	4. Hot in Winter (Johnny x Phil)

"Hot in Winter"

Phil had trained himself not to be surprised by anything. A day when the Avengers didn't argue? He saw it as a blessing. The Winter Soldier turning out to be Bucky Barnes and joining the team? He saw it as a challenge. His soulmark appearing when he was seventeen? He saw it as a test in patience.

The Human Torch suddenly crouching on the car in front of him, when they'd never even spoken before? It was just to keep Phil on his toes.

"Heya, hot stuff, how's it going?"

He snorted. "A double dose of irony; must be my lucky day."

Noticing the silence, he looked up into wide blue eyes. Then the words registered.

Finding out that Johnny Storm was his soulmate? 'Surprised' was an understatement.

"Well, hey there, soulmate," Johnny said, holding out his hand. Phil pursed his lips, and capped off the pen he'd been using as he tallied the usual battle damage. He tucked the pen into his suit pocket; the cold was freezing the ink and making it impossible to write anyway.

"Good day, Mr. Storm," he said, picking up his notepad. He nodded shortly, and then walked off.

* * *

"The hell?" Johnny said.

Okay, judging by the soulmark he'd been born with, he'd always figured that his soulmate was gonna be a smartass. He hooked up with anyone willing in the meantime, and made whatever kind of comments he wanted when he met people, hoping to hear those words. He finally heard them, and what? His soulmate just… just walked away from him?

That would not stand.

"Hey!" he called, running after the Avengers' handler. Coulson, wasn't it? He was pretty sure that's what Sue said. Uh… Phil Coulson. That's right. "Phil!"

The agent – he was a SHIELD agent, right? – turned on his heel, and Johnny nearly ran into him.

"Can I help you with something?" he asked. Johnny blinked, surprised.

"Um, yeah," he said hesitantly. "Dinner, maybe? Or celebratory drinks?"

"No, thank you," Phil said, and he began to walk away again. Johnny trotted beside him.

"Okay, we could start with coffee," he said. "Or a movie. Maybe just, I don't know, a talk? C'mon."

"Why?" Phil asked sharply, looking at him from the corner of his eyes. Johnny frowned.

"I… I thought… What you said to me. It's on my skin. It's my soulmark. Here." He pointed at his chest. "D'you wanna see?"

"No, thank you."

"So… oh. What I said to you… isn't your soulmark." He slowed to a stop. Damn. So Phil wasn't his soulmate. Pity; Johnny'd seen Phil fighting when he had to break cover, and he could really move. He'd heard great things about the guy; hence trying to flirt with him.

There was a sigh, and Phil halted where he was. He spoke over his shoulder.

"Yes, it's my soulmark," he said.

Johnny's head snapped up at that.

"What?" he said. "Then why…?"

"Why what?"

Johnny walked over to him. Phil's shoulders tensed up.

"If you're already with someone, just tell me," Johnny said. "I'll be okay." Not great, but he'd deal with the rejection.

"You have no problem with finding bed partners, I understand."

"Shit. Look, that's all over with. I swear. Are you single?"

"Yes."

"Got your eye on anyone?"

"No."

"Then go out with me! Look, we're soulmates." He had no problem with the cold, and unzipped his suit so that he could show Phil the words on his chest. He even snatched the notebook out of his hand and held it up beside the skin. The writing matched perfectly.

"I realise that," Phil said.

"I'll commit to you, only you. You have to know that, Phil. I've tried steady relationships with people, but since none of them were my soulmate, it didn't go anywhere. But you… We belong to each other. Fate says so."

"Fate has a twisted sense of humour."

"I don't know about that."

"Look at us!" Phil said, gesturing between them, and grabbing his notepad back. "This is ridiculous."

"But…" Phil began to stride away again. Pissed off, Johnny dogged his steps. "What is your _problem_? We're meant for each other."

"We have nothing in common."

"How would you know? Do you know the real me? I mean, this is the first time we've talked to each other, ever. Don't make snap judgements, okay? And don't believe everything you hear or see in the media. Hey!" He snagged Phil's arm and turned him around. "Look at me!"

"Problem?"

"Pro… problem? Yeah, problem! The other half of my soul is rejecting me. You said yourself that you're unattached, that you haven't got the hots for anyone else, but you won't even give me a chance. If our situations were reversed, how would you feel?"

Phil's eyes flashed, and he pulled Johnny's hand away with surprising strength.

"The same way I've felt for a long time," he hissed. "Same way I've felt since my damn soulmark showed up."

Johnny flinched back. "What? Why—"

"Because I was the school nerd! I was the comic book club president. I was in the chess club. I studied. I was nowhere near the cool kids table in school, and I never had been. I took self-defence classes, but sports? I sucked. I was one of the few kids out at my school. Eight weeks before school finished, I was in the gym locker room when it happened. A burning sensation on my back. I used a mirror to check out what it said. One of the cool kids – one of my bullies – saw it. Saw that someone called me 'hot stuff', when I was clearly anything but. I was average, but add the reading glasses and mild acne to all my other list of offences, and I was an easy target. By the end of the day, _everyone_ in school knew that I'd be in my thirties before my soulmate was legal. And to be called 'hot stuff'? As if that was ever going to happen."

"I'm… I'm sorry, but it's not my—"

"They told me it was just gonna be a joke, that my soulmate would never really want me." Phil's chest was heaving, and he was red in the cheeks. "At that age, someone twenty years older than you is considered old. I was going to be a cradle-robber, they said. I was gonna have to pay to get my soulmate to like me, and they'd leave when I hit fifty."

"Shit, Phil—"

"And I shouldn't have believed them. But those are the memories I associated with getting my soulmark. Bullying. The end of my senior year becoming worse than it had been before then. Thinking that you'd… that you'd never want me." His voice dropped, and Johnny reached out to touch him. Phil stepped back.

"It was… it was just a stupid attempt to flirt with you," Johnny said. "A lame line, I know, but I knew it'd get your attention."

"You landed on a car in front of me."

"Yeah, but you didn't look up."

"It made the car dip, and my pen nearly ran all over the page."

Johnny smiled apologetically. "Oops. My bad."

Phil sighed. "Look, it isn't a good idea."

"You won't even let me give you some good memories to replace the bad ones?" Johnny managed to take one of Phil's hands in his. They were cold, and he frowned, before stepping close and exuding warmth. "I understand the love of suits – you really do them justice – but it's _snowing_. Even Hawkeye's wearing sleeves, it's that cold out. Do you really need to freeze your… assets off, just for the sake of looking good? Personally, I think you'd look cute, rugged up and wearing a woollen hat with a bobble on top."

Phil rolled his eyes, and Johnny mentally patted himself on the back for the small smile he dragged out. "I'd still wear a tie."

"Ties are very useful."

He sighed, but he didn't move away from Johnny's heat. "I'm nearly twenty years older than you—"

"I'm in my thirties; you're hardly cradle-snatching."

"And I'm scarred."

"Yeah, you're a SHIELD agent, formerly field, now handler of the Avengers. Pretty sure scars come with the territory."

Phil rubbed his left arm, and Johnny moved closer.

"You heard that I had an encounter with Thor's brother?"

"You died temporarily."

"His spear nicked my heart, going right through the centre of my soulmark. You can still make out most of the words, but with the stitches… The doctors were practical, not artistic."

Johnny's heart broke for him. He pulled Phil forward, with less reluctance than the agent displayed before.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Just so you know? It doesn't change anything between us. I still want to take you out to dinner, see where this could go. Won't you let me? You're my soulmate for a reason, Phil. I… I didn't know you were my soulmate when I flirted with you. Just seemed like a bonus to me when you said my words. I thought I'd finally found the one person who'd be willing to be stuck with me forever."

"But—"

"Please?" Johnny looked at him, trying to show how earnest he was about this. "Let me try to convince you I'm worth a shot? If you really don't want to go out with me because I'm me, I'll leave you alone. But if you're objecting because of your insecurities, then stop. I'm not gonna give up if there's a chance. Okay?"

Phil studied him, and then slowly nodded. "Okay. A date."

When he realised that this was positive confirmation, Johnny grinned widely. Then he hauled Phil close and stole a kiss.

* * *

**Gah! I'm terrible at not writing angst. But I knew all along that it wouldn't be smooth sailing. I promise! Happiness will be written at some point! I… I think.**

**Erm.**

**Yeah.**

**Please review!**


	5. Not So Platonic After All (PC x JS x JB)

"Not So Platonic After All"

Jemma Simmons was nearly bouncing with excitement when Agent Phil Coulson chose her for his team. She knew it was going to happen eventually, but it was still exciting, and of course she dragged Fitz along with her. They were FitzSimmons! Even though they weren't soulmates, they were still close friends. Jemma was as curious as Fitz to find out who liked singing in the shower enough to admit it when they first met, and he was also eager to find out who her two soulmates were.

While Fitz was unpacking in the lab, Jemma noticed a man who _had_ to be Agent Coulson. He removed his sunglasses as he walked up the ramp from his red car, and she had to hold herself back from babbling anything too startling as they shook hands.

"Hello, sir, I'm so glad you chose me, and did you know that you're in one of my soulmarks?"

His hand tightened around hers. "Well, it seems I made the right choice, then, though this could be awkward," he admitted. Her jaw dropped, and she heard Fitz swear as he dropped something on his foot. He knew her words.

"Oh," she said softly. "Yes. Hello."

"Hello," he said, smiling as they finally stopped holding hands. "You do realise I'm your superior officer, don't you?"

"Well, we're a team, but that's true," she said.

"Do you have a second soulmark as well?"

"Yes, sir."

"Would you be all right with keeping our relationship platonic? Only I'm old enough to be your father. It felt awkward enough that your soulmark showed up when I was… no longer in school. By several years."

"That's all right, sir," she said. "I knew both my soulmates were going to be older than me."

"Yeah." He scratched the back of his head, and waved at Fitz. "Thing is, I was born with my other soulmark. So unless we don't share our third…"

"Oh." Her expression fell. "I see what you mean. I mean, I don't mind. I've always thought older men were very attractive—"

"I'm going to stop you right there, Simmons. I presume you're Jemma Simmons?"

"Yes, sir."

"I don't fraternise with junior agents. Even though you're science division, I'm still technically in charge of you, and if our bond wasn't platonic… there could be issues of abuse of authority. Not to mention how terrified I would be if there was any danger to you."

"I _am_ a SHIELD agent…"

"That doesn't make me feel any more comfortable about the situation, Dr. Simmons."

"That's… that's all right, sir," she said, covering her disappointment. His arguments were valid and logical. Considering what she remembered of her words to him, the chances were he'd had time to formulate his reasoning. Soulmateship was a tricky thing; sometimes bonds were purely platonic, which could only be determined through romantic contact such as a kiss. In triads, two could be romantically linked to a platonic third, or all three could be platonic, or they could all be together.

Though why she could be paired with Agent Coulson when she and Fitz were so close that they may as well have been soulmates… well, it was baffling, and something she would have to give a great deal of thought to. And to who it could possibly be that linked them together.

* * *

When SHIELD fell… that would have been a great time for Jemma's other soulmate to turn up. It really would have. Just so she could feel less lonely. In fact, she wouldn't even care if her soulmate was HYDRA, as long as she didn't feel the same terror she felt every time she set foot in a building filled with people who could discover that she was a spy at any moment, and fill her body with lead. The one thought that kept her going was that her soulmate turned up eventually.

This confidence helped to maintain her cover. Nervous double agents died. She knew she still had to meet her – their? – third.

The night when Coulson visited her to drop off groceries, she half-hoped that he wanted to test their bond, to see whether it really was just platonic. So they couldn't leave behind any regrets or 'What If?'s. But he was just checking up on her.

Then she had to run. Bad things happened. She was reunited with her team, which was nice. Even nicer was that Fitz had found his soulmate in Mack.

"I knew only half a sentence in," Fitz said, chattering excitedly. "Then he mentioned the shower, and it was really only a matter of time. I can't remember what I said… I think I was stunned for a bit… but then I jumped him. Good thing it turned out not to be platonic, eh?"

Jemma noticed Mack snickering in the background. But he looked at Fitz with such overwhelming affection that she couldn't find it in her to be jealous.

"Yay, Fitz!" she exclaimed. "I told you that you just had to have faith."

"And a bit of a brain problem," he said. "Mack's been helping me with my words."

"You're sounding so much better. I'm terribly proud of you."

"What about you?" he asked. "Did you find…?"

She shook her head, sparing him the search for the words he wanted. "Not yet. But I know that I will someday."

"Turbo told me about you and the director," Mack said, tilting his head. "It really is platonic?"

She shrugged. "It's better that way. I mean, I wouldn't mind. He's in very good shape, and he's so kind and smart and handsome and… no, I wouldn't mind at all." She blushed at Fitz's knowing smirk. "But he's right. Even if we're not meant to be platonic… even if I have to spend my life not knowing…"

Fitz scooped her into his arms, his hands no longer trembling. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder.

"It'll be fine," he said. "Wait and see."

"If either of you ever want to explore the idea of a casual threesome, do let me know," she said, and Mack burst out laughing. It started her and Fitz laughing as well.

"We'll bear that in mind," Mack said between chuckles.

* * *

When Jemma did meet her other soulmate, it was under trying circumstances. They were infiltrating a HYDRA science base. They'd waited until the fewest guards were on, but the team was still thin on people, and Fitz and Jemma had tackled separate labs to save time. Then there was gunfire, some volatile chemicals, and an explosion had brought down the ceiling in several sections. As there were more floors above, it wasn't exactly the best way to escape, even though May had returned to the Quinjet to fly it above the base and picked them up.

"Simmons, where are you?" Phil's hard voice came over the radio. Jemma had managed to scoop up the last USB drive Fitz had mentioned, and was packing away an 0-8-4 when the bang happened. Now she was truly separated from the others.

"Where's Fitz?" she asked.

"He's out. You're the only one left."

"Oh, good," she said, relieved.

"Not good! Can you get out?"

"Uh…" She checked down the hallway, and heard footsteps. Some of the incapacitated guards must have been less incapacitated than she'd thought. "Might be a bit difficult negotiating the new maze. It's like in the movie _Labyrinth_. Have you seen it, sir? David Bowie in tight—"

"Jemma!" He sounded at the end of his tether. "We're trying to maintain signal. If we disconnect for long enough for May to connect… anything could happen."

There were ominous-sounding footsteps, and then a few manly shrieks from around the corner. Jemma had the case with the 0-8-4 in one hand and data sticks tucked into a pocket. She drew out her Nite-Nite gun, swallowed, and stepped into the corridor.

"I'm on my way, sir," she said.

"Jemma, please be careful."

It wasn't often she heard him use her first name. It sent a little thrill through her, that he cared that much, at least.

"Don't worry," she said. "I can't die yet. I haven't met my other soulmate." She heard him growl, and raised her eyebrows. "Radio silence. I need all my senses on alert."

Obediently, the comm. went quiet. She crept her way through the corridors, trying to remember the layout of the map. The change of path had the potential to be quite confusing, and if any more explosions were imminent, she had to move as fast as possible. It was either keep all her senses at one hundred percent, or run the risk of missing something by getting new directions through the base.

Honestly, she thought. They could have observed proper health and safety regulations, at the very least…

She squeaked when someone rounded the corner without warning and pressed her against the wall with one arm against her chest and the other one grabbing her wrist. He looked her up and down, lingering on the case and the gun with the new logo. A red, white, and blue version of the old SHIELD insignia, now used for New SHIELD, as they'd taken to calling it. He seemed to realise what it meant, and smiled. Jemma took the time to note his metal arm and what it signified.

"You're one of Coulson's, aren't you?" he asked. Her stomach swooped. This wasn't possible.

"I was hoping you'd say something positive like that," she said. He backed off her immediately, eyes widening.

"Show me the words," he said.

"Not until we're out of this fire hazard. My team is waiting for me… somewhere. Sir?"

"What is it?" Phil asked.

"I've got… the Winter Soldier with me," she said. He swore. "Where do you want us to meet you?"

"Get to the roof, if you can. There's a ladder at the ready. We think they have snipers on the ground outside, waiting for anyone else to come out."

"Roger that, sir," she said. She looked up at the soldier. Bucky Barnes? Was it really true. "Are you Bucky?"

"I'd prefer James at the moment."

"James, could you lead the way to the roof?"

* * *

Phil was pacing back and forth. He'd been scared of losing anyone on his team, and that doubled after they almost lost Trip and Skye underground. But when Fitz reported back what he'd seen of some of HYDRA's failed experiments in the base, which Jemma had been fortunate enough to miss… the thought of her being captured and… and _ruined_ like that had horrified him beyond belief.

He'd fought against any less-than-platonic feelings for her. She was young and beautiful and… well, he couldn't say innocent. Not after all she'd witnessed since joining his team, the things she'd had to do. Even jumping out of the plane. Much as he despised Ward for his deception, he'd saved Jemma, and Phil was grateful for that. But that was also before he started to wonder what it would be like if their bond was of a romantic nature. He felt disgusted with himself, especially the few times he'd caught an admiring glance from her and did nothing about it.

If she really was interested… he was going to make a move. He couldn't take any more of those looks from Melinda.

But right now, James Buchanan Barnes was about to board their plane. It was either going to a catastrophically bad decision, or a good one. No middle ground. According to Jemma's reports, he smashed his robotic hand through doors to unlocked them from the other side – or just ripped the doorknobs off if he had to – and tore through metal grating to get them onto the roof. Then he'd herded her onto the ladder, only following when she insisted in no uncertain terms.

"That's my girl," he murmured as she walked up to him, the Winter Soldier in tow.

"James, this is Director Phil Coulson of New SHIELD," she said. "He knows about us, sir! Referred to you by name."

Phil knew there was supposed to be some significance to that statement, but he was busy taking James Barnes in.

"You've heard about me, have you?" Phil said. James's eyes widened minutely.

"I've kept my ear to the ground, hoping to find a friend," he said.

Phil stopped breathing for a few seconds, and then looked at Jemma. She was beaming, and she nodded enthusiastically.

"He's ours," she said. "It explains why you were born with your mark."

"It certainly does," Phil said. "At least he's physically closer to your age."

"Not that I'd care either way," she said.

Phil returned his attention to James, who still seemed shell-shocked.

"Welcome aboard, Sergeant Barnes," he said, letting go of his hand. James stared at him, and then glanced at Jemma, frowning slightly. She narrowed her eyes at Phil, who maintained a neutral expression. He saw Melinda roll her eyes before heading back to the cockpit. He fully expected to be berated later on.

"Well, really," Jemma huffed. She stalked forward two paces, pulled Phil down by the back of his neck, and their lips met.

Want surged through him, and he couldn't help but wrap his hands around her waist. Something sang beneath his skin. He had to force himself back from her before it could get out of hand.

"Did that feel platonic in any way, shape, or form?" Jemma said fiercely.

"N-no," he said, and he cleared his throat. "It didn't."

"Good," she said. She looked over her shoulder at James, who was watching with a stunned expression. "Now, don't think me a harlot, but…" Then she pulled him into a kiss as well. Seeing them together like that, Phil couldn't feel jealous. He knew he should have done, but the kiss she'd given him seemed to block that. However, he was getting uncomfortable below the belt, because Jemma and James together was truly something to behold. When they broke apart, Jemma smiled over at Phil.

"Um…" They glanced at Skye, who was wide-eyed and pointing in some vague direction. "I'm just gonna go over here, and… yeah." She skittered away, followed by the rest of the team, who were either grinning or gaping.

"That wasn't platonic, either," Jemma said, nodding her head towards James. "Now you two. I'd like to see whether it's that kind of triad."

"Oh," Phil said. He was well aware of the stigma against same-sex relationships in the forties, and wasn't sure how the soldier would feel about being attached to another man, let alone being in a non-platonic relationship with one. "You don't have to…"

"Well," James drawled, his gaze drifting down Phil's body, and then up to meet his eyes again. "I got no objection. Figure we've both had a show; it's only fair that the lady gets one, dontcha think?"

That was surprising. Phil swallowed.

"Only fair," he said.

"Unless you don't wanna—"

"Don't get me wrong, I want to, very much. I mean…" He blushed. He knew it was uncharacteristic, but the way his soulmates were looking at him was… unsettling. And flattering, in equal measure. "You're very handsome—"

"So are you, Phil," Jemma admonished.

"That you are," James said, stepping nearer to Phil. "I'm game if you are, director."

"…Yes, plea—"

He was interrupted by James's mouth, which slanted over his. A metal arm supported Phil's back while James's other hand slid into his hair and tilted Phil's head to the best angle. It was heady, how Phil's soulmarks burned in the best way, scorching his skin and making him want even more. They stopped when there was a whimper.

It was Jemma, who was covering her mouth with one hand. Her cheeks was blazing red, and her eyes had darkened. Phil licked his lips, tingling after the two kisses. Jemma managed to move her hand down.

"Can we go and bond now?" she asked.

* * *

**Yes, Jemma. I'm sure the boys are down with that.**

**I've no idea where I got this ship from, but I love these three. Apparently it made sense to pair them together, just to see what happened. Sigh.**

**Review, please!**


	6. Powered by Awesome (CB x DL x NR)

"Powered By Awesome"

This was what Darcy got for chasing up semi-legal equipment parts for Jane. She got thrown into a dusty room, threatened if she said or did anything other than breathe, and – to top it all off – they didn't even consider her enough of a threat to check her for weapons! Okay, yeah, it was great that they didn't put their dirty mitts all over her very fabulous body, but seriously? She didn't exude 'potential threat' at all? Not even after hanging out with the freakin' God of Thunder?

Rude.

Well, no way was she just gonna breathe. Especially when she heard movement nearby. She turned slowly, and her eyes widened when she recognised the two people in front of her. One of them, the man, seemed to be unconscious, and the woman was tied to a steel pole in the middle of the room. It looked like she'd already dislocated her shoulder in an attempt to escape, and it wasn't working. There was a gag on her mouth. Darcy walked over to them, and knelt beside the man. Clint Barton. Hawkeye. When she poked him, he didn't move, and his breathing was shallow. Bad sign.

So she looked at Natasha Romanov – why wasn't it Romanova? – and cleared her throat.

"I'm guessing he should've woken up by now?" she whispered. The Black Widow's eyes widened, and she nodded. "Okay, lemme take a look at these cuffs."

She crouched behind Natasha, and removed the gag first. While the woman worked her jaw, Darcy picked the locks as gingerly as she could, mindful of the shoulder. Just because the agent didn't flinch, it didn't mean that it wasn't sore.

"Done," Darcy said, moving her wrists carefully back to the front. "I'm gonna see to your boy here."

"Thank you, Miss Lewis," Natasha said. Darcy dismissed the words; she'd heard them before.

"Hey, you recognised me, too," she said. Natasha nodded again, and Darcy bent over Clint. She pushed him onto his back, searching for any puncture wounds.

"It was something they sprayed onto his skin," she said. "They told me it would last an hour. It has been just over that since he appeared to pass out."

"Sweet, so he'll be up soon," Darcy said, sitting back on her heels. "Anything I can do to speed up the process? Holy shit!" she squeaked when Natasha relocated her shoulder with a crack and no flinch. "Please tell me you get plenty of vitamin D."

Before Natasha could reply – or laugh, she looked like she wanted to smile – the door was unlocked with a clang. Natasha was back in place in the blink of an eye.

"You didn't quite follow our instructions, but you are forgiven," said the boss guy. Was he the boss guy? His lackeys were hanging around behind him, so that was likely. "My men," yep, the boss, "did not get your name. Miss…?"

"Lewis," she said. "Darcy Lewis. Heard-a me?"

He cocked his head. Darcy sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes, but sneakily checking out her fellow fugitives. She could see that Clint was stiller than before, and his eyelids were cracked the tiniest bit open. Natasha appeared to be gathering herself to move.

"No, I have not heard of you," the boss said. "Should I have?"

"Yeah! I'm on social media! I get all the best news about Asgard, didn't you know?"

"Asgard?" He frowned. Yep. Looked like he was gettin' the message.

"Big place in the sky," she said, standing up. "Thor and Mew-Mew come from there."

The thugs tensed, but Darcy already had her hand on her taser. She whipped it out and shot the boss, who fell to his knees. Keeping her finger on the trigger, the surge wiped out the guys behind him as well, and they were all on the ground within seconds. She noticed the two spies flanking her – when the hell did that happen? – and she turned around and beamed at them.

"Extra-long charge," she said, "`cause my taser is powered by awesome." She looked at Clint. "Unlimited supply of it here, I'll have you know, buddy boy."

His jaw dropped. "Uh… thanks for helping us?" he said.

"Helping you? Dude, I saved you! You're welcome, and all that, but you shouldn't be fighting when you jump up that fast. Something to do with the blood flow… oh." She blinked twice, looking from one to the other. "Sorry. Mouth rules brain, not the other way around. Uh… I thought you two were supposed to be soulmates?"

"Looking for our third," Clint said, and he stroked the side of Darcy's hand, still clutching the taser. Thanks to Thor, there was probably still some life left in the cartridge. "Looks like we finally found her."

"Wow," Darcy said, staring at them. "Because really? I've seriously lucked out. You two are… whoa. I'm thinkin' I'm in way over my head here. Know what I said about being awesome? Yeah, I'm not the awesomest one in this room."

"You saved us," Natasha said. "It's rare that someone does that."

She frowned. "Everyone needs help from time to time." She bit her lower lip, considering all the facts. "Okay, you two've been together forever, and I barely know you. You're both super-spies and superheroes – superhero and superheroine, technically – and I'm just a scientist wrangler."

"Damn good one, from what we've heard," Clint said, steering her out of the room between them. No way did Darcy want to know whether she'd killed someone. Her souped-up taser could have been lethal on the first guy hit.

"And you're not 'just' anything," Natasha said. "I mean it. Thank you. I was going to have to rely on Clint waking up in time to let me loose, and they stripped us of anything useful." Darcy snorted.

"Yeah, well, it says a lot that they didn't even frisk me, right? I don't look dangerous."

"Which is good," Clint said, voice turning stern. "We'd prefer you to be underestimated and safe."

Darcy couldn't help smiling as her soulmates slung their arms around her waist. As soon as they got outside, her phone began to ring.

"That's either a scary, movie-like coincidence—"

"Or phone signals were blocked inside the building," Natasha said.

"Hello?" Darcy said.

"Darcy, are you okay? Where are you? Thor's on his way."

"Hey, Jane. I'm okay. I'm with my soulmates." That felt _epic _to say.

Jane sounded confused. "But… you used your taser. There's a…" Then she coughed, and Darcy narrowed her eyes.

"There's a what?" she said. "What, does using my taser activate some kind of distress beacon?"

"…Yes?"

"Jane, who designed this taser?"

"Tony and Thor."

She rolled her eyes. She'd put her phone on speaker almost immediately, and Clint and Natasha were sniggering at the conversation.

"It'd be great if you could send transport to SHIELD," she said through gritted teeth.

"What happened?"

"The Black Widow and Hawkeye are with me," Darcy explained. "I'm pretty sure they'll need to debrief."

"They're with you as well?"

"Not… as well."

For a genius, Jane could be pretty slow. When it hit her, she gasped.

"They're your… wow," she said. "Well, we're at Stark Tower anyway."

"Which would explain why Thor's nearly here," Darcy said, looking up at the sky. "That didn't take long. Okay, I'm gonna go now. See ya. And we're gonna have a talk about my taser having fancy doodads I wasn't aware of."

"Yes, Darcy."

"Darcy!" Thor called, striding over to them. "My friends, you came to her rescue! I thank you." He bowed his head, and Clint snorted.

"Yeah, actually, Darcy saved us," he said. Thor's eyes widened, and then he grinned.

"With her box of lightning," he said. "Of course."

"Looks like our ride's here," Natasha said, jerking her thumb. A SHIELD car had pulled up. "I managed to get word out before we were nabbed, but I wasn't sure whether the signal had gotten through."

"We'll see you back at the tower," Clint said, and he kissed the top of Darcy's head. She scowled at them.

"Y'think I'm gonna risk losing track of you now?" she said. "I'm coming with."

Rather than arguing, Natasha and Clint looked at each other and shrugged.

"Fine with us," Natasha said.

"See ya later, big guy," Darcy said, patting Thor on the arm. "Thanks for coming to find me, anyway."

"I do not understand."

"Soulmates, Thor! Bonding needs to be done. Of the getting-to-know-you kind right now, because work. But later, definitely the fun stuff. I hope." She eyed her soulmates, who both looked amused. "You as flexible as you look? `Cause if so, yeah, the universe likes me."

* * *

**Really just wanted to have something where Darcy said that she powered her taser with awesomeness. (Because it's true. That's her superpower. Head canon.)**

**Hoping people continue to enjoy these fics. I'm doing my best with some obscure ships, since that's my default setting. I'm weird like that.**

**Uh… if anyone has suggestions for peculiar MCU pairings, let me know, and I'll see what I can do. I keep coming up with ideas, which is BAD, because I'm neglecting the other stuff I'm supposed to be working on. I blame unemployment.**

**Please review!**


	7. Defrosting (Fitz x Steve)

"Defrosting"

Leo Fitz was only a junior when he and Jemma were assigned to the team watching over Captain America after he came out of the ice. Jemma was there to keep an eye over his physical progress, Leo to maintain the equipment regulating his recovery.

It was incredible that the man was still alive, after all this time. Who knew what his mental state was going to be? But physically, he was fine.

_Very_ fine. Leo had always been fluid, sexuality-wise. He could admit to having a crush on Jemma, which was only natural. She was pretty, intelligent, and they just… clicked. People already called them FitzSimmons. It sounded nice. Leo could get used to it.

Steve Rogers was big, of course. Muscular. Jemma blushed when they had to cut him out of the suit, and Leo couldn't blame her. If he'd had to brush against all that smooth flesh covering hard muscles, he'd be hard put not to start drooling. As it was, he'd had a hard enough time keeping his mind on work with all of _that_ in front of them.

"Lovely, isn't it?" Jemma whispered.

"Very," he said. As they all filed out, he paused by the table, and rested his hand beside the captain's. "Don't worry about a thing, captain." Then he followed Jemma to the door.

He wouldn't see Captain America in person again for a very long time.

* * *

Steve woke up to a new world. He didn't expect to have a soulmark; he didn't have one before the crash, so why would he have one now?

Which is why it was a hell of a shock, the first time he actually saw his backside in a mirror, to read a long set of words.

"The hell?" he exclaimed, craning his neck and stepping closer to the glass. His quick mind turned the letters around the right way. '_Don't worry about a thing, captain. Do you s'pose you could help me over here?_'

Well, whoever it was clearly knew his identity. Since no one was supposed to know outside of SHIELD, when Nicholas Fury asked for Steve to come and help them save the world, he agreed. With any luck someone's first words to him would be a reassurance, and then a plea for help. Where else was he likely to find them?

But no. New York was a washout. He didn't find anyone during his exploration of America. And in DC? Everything went to hell.

* * *

"Got some intel on the last known location of the Winter Soldier," Sam said, dropping a file on the coffee table in front of Steve. "Thought you'd appreciate hard copies; more difficult to doctor."

"I don't know about that," Steve muttered, remembering some of the people he'd met during the war, and their various 'talents' being used in less-than-legal ways. He opened the folder and thumbed through the grainy pictures. But it sure did look like Bucky, or what Bucky'd become. "I'm gonna follow this up."

"Info's a couple days old. Only sorry it took so long to get."

"But it's a starting-off point," Steve said, standing. "Where was it taken?"

In the end, it didn't matter. Someone else got to him first, and Steve was pissed when he found out who it was.

* * *

Phil shrank back in his computer chair, an instinctive reaction to Steve Rogers glaring at him. Disappointing Captain America was nowhere near his life's ambition, so he swallowed delicately and opened his mouth.

"Better think before you speak," the Falcon advised. Phil nodded.

"Can I help you with something?" he said.

"Maybe you could tell me how you came to be not dead," Steve said through gritted teeth. Phil cleared his throat.

"I will, if you talk me through all of your triggering experiences during the war," he said, raising an eyebrow. Steve's frown deepened.

"I don't talk about those for a reason," he said. "Least of all to a stranger who I _thought_ was an ally."

"And I don't talk about the traumatic events which have happened to _me_ for a reason, captain. Tell me, were you ever put through such pain, such an unnatural procedure, begging for death again until you're hoarse but for it to be denied?" Phil scowled as Steve remained silent. "Well? Because if you were, then maybe we could start a club. In the meantime, you want specifics? You talk to Dr. Simmons. If you want to see Sergeant Barnes, go to my engineer, Fitz. He's working on the electronics. Something happened to the arm. He keeps having to sedate Barnes, so if you could help him out, that would be appreciated." He pointed to the door with his pen. "Go."

Sam Wilson gave him a small wave on the way out, and Phil waved back. After both men were gone, he slumped over the desk and let his forehead touch the surface. It was just going to be one of those days, wasn't it? Time to let the rest of the Avengers know that he was alive, then.

* * *

Leo barely even looked up when someone joined him. It couldn't be an enemy, or they never would've been let in. From his peripheral, he could tell that it was someone tall and muscular, which was good. With Mack performing emergency surgery on one of the cars the Winter Soldier had run into, he was down a person.

"Do you s'pose you could help me over here?" he asked loudly. Barnes was stirring again, and Leo didn't have time to keep making sedatives. He needed someone to administer the rest of what they had while he finished work on the arm. He had Barnes's permission, but after the pain set in he requested to be put under, placing a huge amount of trust in them. Leo had no idea what made him agree, and he wasn't going to question it.

Slowly, the tall man walked over.

"So you're the engineer," he murmured. "Tell me what you need me to do?"

It took a second for Leo to decide which issue to address first.

"Ah," he said. "Right. Erm, perhaps we could talk about that later? Right now, I need you to hold this here – that's right – while I load up the last of this. It should last another half hour, and I'll be done in less than ten minutes, but better to err on the side of caution."

His helper was, indeed, helpful, and Leo was done in the promised ten minutes. He made Barnes more comfortable for when he woke up, ensured there was nothing lethal in reach, and then smiled up at the man who'd shown up at just the right time.

And stared.

"You're… you're Captain—"

"Steve Rogers," he said, holding out a hand. Leo shook his hand, processing the last quarter of an hour.

"Aye," he said. "I know. I was… I was there when…"

"When what?"

"You were… you were frozen, from the ice, and I helped with the machines to defrost you."

"Um… thank you?"

"You look much better, not that you looked bad before, you never could have, even in the pictures of you before the serum, which of course I've studied because Howard Stark was brilliant…" He trailed off. Just because he was better with his words now was no excuse to talk his soulmate's ears off. "But you look more… alive. And your hair's shorter."

Steve frowned, tilting his head. "You were there… hang on." He straightened up, which Leo thought couldn't be possible. "What you said, when I entered this room. Did you… talk to me while I was unconscious?"

"Aye. I probably said something friendly and reassuring. Or possibly embarrassing. You were a terrible distraction, I'll have you know. It was difficult to get any work done."

"I'm sorry," Steve said, amused. "I'd show you my soulmark, but it's in a… delicate place."

"Mine isn't," Leo said, holding out his open hand. He shivered when Steve took it in his own large hands, and studied the writing. He smiled gently as he looked at Leo.

"My writing, alright," he said. "Hey."

"Hi," he… no, he didn't squeak. He just spoke half an octave higher than usual.

"I probably shouldn't be so forward, even though you're my soulmate, but could I kiss you?"

"You… you _want_ to?" Leo said, his eyebrows shooting up. "You want to kiss _me_?"

"Who else? You're my soulmate. You're not… already with someone, are you?"

"No, I… no one's ever… no. I'm not. But I'm surprised you'd want to, that's all."

"Because everyone who was alive during World War Two is homophobic, is that it?" Steve asked dryly. Leo cocked his head.

"No, that's not it," he said. "But because it's… me."

"Yeah, you," Steve said. "My soulmate. Now are you gonna let me kiss you or not?"

"But I—"

"I happen to think you're adorable, and your big eyes are kinda making me melt inside, so I'd really, really like to kiss you now."

"Oh. O-okay."

* * *

When Bucky woke up, actually feeling pretty refreshed, and found his arm to be in perfect working order, he was baffled to hear smothered noises nearby. He glanced around, and raised his eyebrows when he saw Steve smooching the hell out of someone.

"I haven't even left you alone, and you're still gettin' up to no good!" he said. Steve backed off, and Bucky recognised the scientist. "Dr. Fitz, am I good to go, or do I need to play chaperone?"

"No, you're…" He cleared his throat and tried to smooth down his hair. It was a lost cause. "You're good to go."

"I found my soulmate," Steve said, beaming proudly. That reminded Bucky.

"Yeah, me too," he said. Steve's jaw dropped.

"Wait, really?" he said. "Who?"

"Knock-knock?" There was a pretty young woman rapping her knuckles on the doorframe.

"Jemma, you'll never guess what," Fitz said. Or Leo, Bucky should probably call him, seeing as how he was Steve's soulmate.

"What's that?" Jemma asked, although she was looking at Bucky. He pulled his gaze from hers, met Steve's, and tilted his head to indicate the doctor. Steve's eyes widened, and he smiled slowly.

"We both got lucky in this life, didn't we?" he said. Leo turned to look at him.

"What?" he said.

"You're Bucky's soulmate, aren't you?" Steve said, addressing Jemma. She nodded shyly, and Leo grinned.

"Well, we both met ours today, then, didn't we?" he said. Jemma gaped.

"You and Captain Rogers?" she said. Leo nodded enthusiastically, and Jemma smiled. "I'm so happy for you, Fitz."

"You, too," he said. "Both bagging a hot super soldier. Not bad for a couple of nerdy scientists, eh?"

* * *

"Tony and Skye are gonna establish some secure network connections between us," Steve said as they prepared to leave. "So we can talk, and Buck and Jemma can talk."

"Sounds good to me," Leo said, and he blushed at the wicked grin on Steve's face as he looked Leo up and down. "Stop that."

"Never." He bent down and kissed Leo. "I'd like to do more than talk. Now that Bucky's back, we don't have to search for him, so I'll have more time to travel around. Maybe kidnap you from time to time."

"Since kidnapping is a real possibility for me, you'd better not try it."

"_And_ maybe you'll let me take you to Scotland, so I can meet your family," Steve continued, stroking Leo's cheek. "If that's okay with you?"

"P-perfect," he said. He pecked Steve on the lips shyly. "You'd better go now. Get your friend home."

"Okay." Steve patted his rear, and Leo yelped. "Talk to you later."

"Bye, Steve."

"This is so exciting, isn't it?" Jemma asked as she and Leo waved their soulmates off.

"And terrifying. My soulmate is _Captain America_."

"Never mind that. My soulmate is _the Winter Soldier_."

"We're doomed, aren't we?"

"Only in the best way, Fitz."

* * *

**Yay for soulmates! Please review, dear readers.**


	8. Notes (CB x NF, later CB x JS)

**Warning: the relationship between Clint and Fury could be considered border-line domestic abuse; not because of the dom/sub dynamic, but Fury isn't as emotionally invested as Clint, and neglects him in a number of ways. He doesn't realise he's doing it. If this could be a potential trigger, please don't read it. Happier fics will come, I promise!**

"Notes"

"I hate that goddamn song."

Clint froze for a second, staring at the tall, dark guy with an eye-patch and a leather coat entirely inappropriate for the upper class surroundings. But he pulled himself together and continued to sing, strolling around the room and flirting with both men and women through the medium of song. It was part of his cover, being an interactive singer, although the interaction was to give him an opportunity to scope out any potential suspects. Every number he performed was one he knew by heart, could pretty much sing through muscle memory alone. He ended back on the stage, and bowed in response to the applause.

Then bad things happened. Understatement of the month. His cover was busted within two hours, but at least he took out the baddies. Three women and two men. They'd tried to use children as a shield, but there was no way they were getting away with that. Clint took them out without the kids ever being aware of it. He was glad that his soulmate wasn't one of the bad guys.

Now Clint just had to find him. Guy ticked the tall, dark, and handsome boxes, along with exuding authority and dominance. Clint wouldn't mind misbehaving if he got put over one of those sturdy knees.

"Barton, at your two o'clock, come meet me," Coulson said.

"Roger that," Clint replied. He climbed down the side of the building – hey, it was quicker than taking the stairs – and ambled along to the corner. He did a double-take when he recognised the man with Coulson.

"You haven't met the Director," Coulson said, indicating eye-patch guy. "Director Nicholas Fury. This is Clint Barton, who I've told you so much about."

"Uh…" Clint was out of words. Fury – Nicholas? – eyed him up and down.

"We saw each other inside," he said. "You recovered yourself quickly, Barton, but I saw a moment of hesitation. Sure you didn't recognise me?"

"Nope," Clint said. "Kinda threw me when you said my soulmark words."

"What?" Coulson blurted. "Nick, you didn't tell me—"

"Well, this has been fun and all, but you've got a debrief to do, and I've got some bodies to clean up," Fury said (definitely Fury, not Nicholas).

"Sir, you know you can skip that to be with your soul—"

"We've all got jobs to do." He frowned at Clint, whose stomach flipped nervously. "I'm in a position of authority over you, Barton."

"Yeah, you sure are," he said, dry-mouthed. Holy hell, better than he'd thought.

"You'll understand that we can't bond because of that."

"…Wait, hang on. Fate put us together for a reason. Look, I don't have to join SHIELD at all. I could… I could go someplace else—"

"No," Fury said. "You're good. I want you at SHIELD."

"But…" Clint looked to the ground. "It's me you don't want."

"Nick," Coulson said, his voice tight. "What the hell are you doing?"

"He's just a kid. Extremely competent, but not ready for a life as my soulmate."

Clint scowled. "How would you know, sir? You don't know anything about me, `sides my background, and you don't seem to be objecting to that. Are you?"

"Hell, kid, I run an organisation of the biggest misfits—"

"Then _why don't you want me_?"

Fury pursed his lips. "It's not you. It's the fact that being my soulmate is dangerous. You're a target—"

"Right, like I'm not already a target—"

"And you're not the right fit for my… my personality."

Clint raised an eyebrow, and stepped closer. Fury didn't move, probably refusing to be intimidated by Clint. Ha. Like that could happen.

"Like I said," Clint murmured, "you don't know anything about me, sir. You wanna know what I want? I want to be told what to do. I want someone who can take care of me in the bedroom. I want someone worth dropping to my knees for. From the moment I saw you," he leaned in closer, hands barely touching the leather coat, "I knew I wanted you to dominate me. Punish me if I needed it. Put those big hands on my waist and lift me against a wall. I want you inside me. Knowing you're my soulmate sweetens the deal. And being the director of SHIELD? Makes me wanna suck you off in this alley, then bend over and let you take me against the wall. Mark me up real good. Show everyone I belong to you, only you."

His voice had dropped further by the end of it, and he was all but pressed against his unmoving soulmate.

"Make me leak you for hours," he added. Fury growled.

"Coulson, take over here," he said. "I need a _word_ with my soulmate."

Clint grinned deliriously as they passed Coulson, whose face was buried in one hand while his shoulders shook. Probably laughing, the asshole.

* * *

As soon as they stepped inside the overly-secure apartment, Fury shoved Clint against the wall beside the door. He shrugged off his coat, leaving it in an untidy pile on the floor. Clint itched to reach down, pick it up, dust it off, and hang it on the coat rack.

Fury had other ideas.

"Get outta your goddamn clothes," he hissed. Clint complied quickly, stripping with unsteady hands. He took a few calming breaths, hitching when Fury removed his shirt and displayed a broad, muscled chest. Clint could imagine all of that pushing him down into a bed, or a sofa, or a wall, or the shower…

"Yes, sir," he said, finally pulling off his underwear. He tried to pick his things up, but he was lifted into strong arms and pushed against the wall again.

"Sure you can handle this?" Fury said. "Last chance to get out."

Clint shivered at the storm in the director's eye. "I'm sure, sir," he said. "Fate paired us. She must know what she's doing."

Before he knew it, hot lips were devouring his, and Clint's knees trembled. He moaned, arching against Fury.

"Tell me what to do, sir," he whispered, meeting Fury's gaze. "Anything. I'll do it."

"Safe word?"

"Notes, since I sang my words to you."

* * *

_Years later_

"Sometimes I worry that your relationship isn't healthy," Phil said, glancing at Fury while they worked on reports. "Isn't balanced enough."

"How the hell would you know, Cheese?" Phil pursed his lips to hold back an insubordinate retort.

"I'm observant," he said. "Clearly you two have worked something out, but the honeymoon phase ended within weeks. I can appreciate that you're his boss, but then you're everyone's boss here. What you do at home—"

"He's a sub, I'm a dom. There's nothing else to say."

"Outside of the bedroom?"

Fury didn't shuffle in his seat. The closest he got to a fidget was a periodic tightening of the grip on his pen.

"We work," he said. "Being director's a full-time job."

"Do you ever date?"

"Not a relationship built on romance."

"Huh. And he has no problem with that?"

Fury frowned at Phil. "Of course not."

"So… you've discussed it."

"Why are you so damn invested in this?"

"Because you're my friend, Nick, and Clint's an excellent agent. I brought him in myself, and we get on well. I don't want to see him hurting."

"Any bruises he gets from me are ones he specifically asks for, and he enjoys it."

Phil sighed, and he corrected someone's mistake. "Can I run a couple of seminars on the English language, and how to use grammar and punctuation? Because this is ridiculous."

"Don't try to change the subject, Coulson. You started it; say what you haven't said yet."

"It's just that Barton seems like the type who doesn't show it, but wants a bit of romance. Not saying the typical wining and dining, but something between soulmates that isn't just about sex and bonding."

"We haven't bonded yet."

Phil nearly broke his pen. "What? But you've been together for nearly ten years! Didn't it ever occur to you that it was in your – and his – best interests to make sure that you're connected like that?"

"And have one of us in pain because the other is?" Fury said, scowling. "Not gonna happen."

"So you _do_ care about him? Or is it only your own health you're concerned about?"

Fury stood abruptly, and loomed over Phil, who just stared back at him.

"Don't you dare judge my relationship with my soulmate," he murmured. "Not until you're in one yourself. Life isn't like a movie, Coulson."

"I never said it was. I'm worried that you're neglecting Barton's emotional needs because you like to pretend that you don't have any yourself."

There was a crack, and wood splintered under Fury's fist.

"Conversation. Over," he said. Phil paused.

"Want me to finish these reports in my office, sir?"

"I think it's for the best, don't you?"

"Yep."

* * *

"He's _alive_?"

Fury watched Clint calmly, too calmly. Clint paced back and forth, hands shaking as they rarely did. He skittered away from Fury when the man stepped closer.

"I've been beatin' myself up about this for _three years_," Clint whispered hoarsely. "All this time, you could-a said something, but you _didn't_."

"It wasn't Coulson's fault."

"No." Clint shook his head. "No, I'm not blamin' him for the secrecy. Yeah, he shouldn't've kept it up this long, the jerk, but _you_. You're my damn soulmate, Nick! You should've told me! Couldn't you see how it was eating away at me? The others did! You're the one who's supposed to provide me with support. I had to lie to the others, tell `em you were doin' your best to help me. I was _lyin' through my teeth, Nicholas_. You've never been there for me, only using me as a housekeeper and… and a _toy_. Take me out, have your fun, then put me back until the next time you're feelin' playful. Never even thinking I might have feelings, or, God forbid, _talk_ about them."

He scrunched his hair in his hands, unable to stand still. Fury watched him passively, which just made Clint more furious.

"Damn it!" he exploded. "The world really does hate me! Orphaned as a kid, grew up in the circus, abandoned by my brother, became a merc, brainwashed by Loki into betraying the only family I've ever known, feelin' responsible for Coulson's death… and to top it all off, Fate decided to stick me with _you_ as a soulmate. You shouldn't have a soulmate! You don't _deserve_ one! You haven't… you haven't even got a soul, have you? Shit." He strode away, perfectly aware of Fury following him.

"What're you doing?" Fury asked as Clint stuffed the few things he had at their apartment into a bag. He was living part-time at Stark Tower as it was. Best place to hide from HYDRA. Well, the most secure place, anyway. It was lonely with Fury gone most of the time, so it'd made sense to move most of Clint's things to the tower.

"What d'you think I'm doing?" Clint said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. That was it. That was all he had left here. "I'm leaving you."

"You can't do that," Fury said, standing in front of Clint.

"Listen, I put up with this attitude for years, because I thought it was part of the dom and sub thing," Clint said, gesturing between them. "Now… now I don't care whether it makes me a bad sub. I'm gettin' outta here, and you're not gonna stop me."

"You're my soulmate, Barton—"

"And I've _never_ felt like it! Not _once _have you made me feel like I meant more to you than just some words on the body and one of your SHIELD agents. It took seein' how a real relationship works to realise that I've wasted a _third of my life_ with you."

"What do you want from me, Barton?" Fury said, stalking behind Clint as he made for the front door. Clint punched in the code to disable the lock.

"Love," he said softly. "But I guess it was even too much to hope you liked me." He screwed his eyes closed for a couple of seconds. "Hell, you don't even use my fucking name."

He slammed out the door and ran down the stairs, where Steve was waiting on his motorbike. He climbed onto the back, and they roared along the city streets.

Clint held onto Steve tightly, fully aware that in this state, if he let go for even a second, he would fall and break.

* * *

Knowing his luck, of course Clint's soulmark was going to fade. He'd completely and utterly decided to get over Nick Fury, the Great Liar, and move on with his life. The worst part of it, the real kicker, was that he'd actually cared about Fury. Never got around to loving him, not even in those emotionally-charged moments in the bedroom when Nick would be looming over Clint, hard and deep inside him, and make him feel like they were the only two in the universe.

He hadn't been looking for love at first sight. Lust happened, of course. But maybe a date every so often, talking without sex coming in to the equation, and he might've found a reason to let himself fall in love. But it'd never happened.

They were at a bar, a real dive of a place, the kind where Phil Coulson would hate to be seen. But it was the only place they could all meet, the Avengers and Coulson's team, and discuss some kind of partnership. They'd take on Quake and teach her control, and Phil would loan them his scientists.

What he hated most about it? Phil was refusing any other help they offered.

"I shouldn't have let this go on so long," he said. "I only want what's best for my team, but it can't happen in the public eye."

"You need money," Tony said.

"I don't want your money."

"But you need it."

"We have other sources we can tap."

"What, your own personal funds which you've been saving up for years?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow. "Your parents' house which you've been renting? I guess it's better than robbery, but it's not exactly high finance, is it?"

"I have another source," Phil said.

"Who?"

"That's none of your concern."

"Seriously, I can find out."

"Clearly not, otherwise you would've mentioned it."

Clint snorted. "Leave him alone, Tony," he said. "If Phil doesn't need your money, back off. Offer him something else."

"Who's got the kind of money that eclipses what I could give you?" Tony asked, refusing to let this go. Phil rolled his eyes.

"I didn't say it eclipsed what's at your disposal, but you've always hated SHIELD," he said. "I'm lucky enough to have a generous soulmate."

"Wait, he's your soulmate?" May said, side-eyeing Phil. He shrugged.

"I was even more surprised than you are," he said. "But it has its uses."

"And you're not with him?" Skye said. "The hell, DC?"

"That's one screwed-up relationship," Clint said, tilting his drink towards Phil. "And not one word about pot-kettle, because that part of my life's done. Fate's changed her mind. I no longer have Fury's words on me."

"Wait, shit, your soulmate is Nick Fury?" Tony said.

"Was, Stark. Not anymore. I'm a clean slate. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go in search of another drink. Top up, anyone?"

They were all fine, so he drifted over to the bar alone. A certain song began to play on the jukebox, and he groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"Crap," he muttered. He felt movement beside him, and moved his hands away. It was one of the scientists, the English one. Clint hadn't spoken to her yet, but he acknowledged that she was pretty. The one Harry Potter character he'd had a crush on was Hermione Granger, and this young woman reminded him of her. He half-smiled to acknowledge that she was there.

"Is something wrong, Clint?" she asked. It was the first time they'd spoken, and he liked the way his name sounded, coming from her. Girl like her probably already had a soulmate, though. He wasn't exactly trying to run from anyone who reminded him of Fury, but she seemed kind, and he needed that right now.

"I hate this song, that's all," he said, signalling for the bartender. He noticed the scientist smiling at him, and he met her eyes.

Something felt like it was being seared into his left wrist. Freaked out by this, and by her similar reaction, he tore off his wrist guard and saw words forming. Another soulmark, right where the old one was. '_Is something wrong, Clint?_' What?

"Oh my God," the scientist – and he needed to remember her name – said. "I never thought I'd get one. It's…" She looked into his eyes, and her smile was the brightest he'd ever seen. And it was aimed at him. "You're my soulmate?"

"Shit, I should've left my last relationship a lot sooner," Clint muttered. "You're beautiful."

"Who were you with previously?"

"My soulmate. First soulmate. I didn't even know this could happen, but I'm glad it did. He wasn't good for me."

"He?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowing. "If you're not into women—"

"I'm bi," Clint said. "Was until I met my soulmate, and thought that was it. But he was right from the beginning. He said we wouldn't fit, and I guess we didn't. I lost my mark after I left him. And now I've got you." He smiled, his first hopeful smile in… a long time. "You're Jemma, aren't you?"

"Yes, and don't worry," she said. "I'm not terribly fond of this song, either. So that's one thing we have in common."

He laughed, almost hysterically, and he pulled her close. "Well, Phil's gonna have to accept that a collaboration will be happening, because I plan to spend a lot of time with you. I have a lot of wasted years to make up for."

"That sounds lovely," she said, her eyes sparkling. A thought occurred to Clint.

"How… how dominant are you in the bedroom?" he said. She looked surprised. "Sorry, I know it's forward of me to ask, but I—"

"I don't… have to be, if you don't want me to," she said quietly. Clint noticed her hesitance.

"But if I told you I prefer to sub…?" he said.

"Really?"

"I'm not a doormat."

"I wouldn't want you to be," she said. "There's no fun in that." She looked him up and down, and grinned slyly. "I wouldn't make you wear a collar, but perhaps… matching armlets? Or something?"

"You don't mind people knowing about us?"

She cocked her head. "Of course not. I want everyone to know that you're mine, and I'm yours."

Clint didn't realise how much he needed that, needed _this_, until she said it. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Yeah," he said. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I wanna celebrate that. Let me buy you a drink."

* * *

**What. Happened?**

**In my original notes, Fury and Clint were platonic until after Clint found out that Fury had been lying about Phil's death, then went off at him in a similar fashion to above, only it led to angry-kissing, which led to angry-other things, and… no longer platonic. But I forgot that. Then I realised that I'd written a deeply unhealthy relationship compared to my usual fluff, and decided to get out of that. And throw in Phil having a soulmate and Clint getting a new one!**

**Couldn't be bothered to think up a song, and I've no idea who Phil's soulmate is. I did think about Doom being his soulmate, and the possibility of Phil retiring to Latveria after HYDRA is taken down. Then I considered Johnny Storm (`cause they live in the Baxter, and presumably he has a bit of money). Then I thought it'd be more amusing to let you imagine who it might be.**

**Erm, yeah.**

**Please review!**


	9. Show Some Respect (May x Steve)

"Show Some Respect"

Phil paced back and forth. May watched him from the doorway, only her eyes moving – barely at that – like he was the ball at a fast-paced tennis match.

"This is not good," he said. "I wasn't expecting…"

"You knew they would have to be told sometime. You promised Sif you would tell Thor yourself."

"It's too soon!" May arched an eyebrow, and Phil grumbled something.

"When were you planning to tell them?" she asked.

"…Eventually—"

"And how?"

He opened and closed his mouth wordlessly. "I… I don't know. It's not like I'm in a position to plan ahead. You know what my setting has been for months: find catastrophe, fix catastrophe with some half-assed spur-of-the-moment plan, move onto the next catastrophe. If I had the opportunity to do something, I would've done it by now!"

"Instead they found out because you decided to join Twitter."

Phil slumped into his desk chair. May didn't budge from her spot.

"I had too much coffee last night," he said. "I guess I should arrange a time with the Avengers, now the cat's out of the bag." She didn't say anything. "Let them decide the time and place. Get the kids ready in advance." She stayed silent. "Maybe also take along my file so they can see what happened. At least I'm not going to lose my mind again anytime soon."

"Who'd notice the difference?" May muttered, turning and leaving the room now that her job as sounding board was done.

* * *

The Avengers made a lot of noise when they arrived. With Thor, he couldn't help it; he was born loud. Tony always had to make a flashy entrance. But on this occasion, Natasha and Clint were the most vocal, especially Clint, telling off Phil for keep them in the dark for so long. Even when he showed them photos from the surgery as well as his medical records, he was still on the receiving end of a lot of anger for several minutes.

"Since it's too late for you to consider accepting an apology, I'll save my breath," he murmured, eyes cast downwards. "Please come this way. You should meet the team, in case anything happens to… to us." 'To me', he'd probably meant to say. That didn't temper Steve's own feelings of betrayal.

"Cut the guy some slack," Sam said from beside Steve. "Sounds like he went through a hell of a time being dragged back to life. Not everyone gets to consent to being a science experiment."

"He—"

"And look at the way you're all behaving!" He indicated the rest of the Avengers as they followed Coulson. "Like the guy's committed murder or something. Can you blame him for not wanting to be at the end of all this vitriol? Shit, I don't know how many people would have the balls to face you all like that."

"Doesn't make me feel any better, Sam."

The group of people Coulson led them to made Steve wonder whether this really was all the manpower at the new director's disposal. He'd heard about the things the team had done, and found it hard to believe that this small collection of misfits could do it.

Admittedly, Steve was part of a small group of misfits, but they were nearly all enhanced in some way. He glared suspiciously, walking beside Clint as they moved down the line, with Sam trailing behind.

"This is Melinda May," Coulson said, gesturing to an Asian woman with a stony expression on her face. "You know Agents Barton and Romanov."

"What's up, Cavalry?" Clint said.

"Did he seriously just call her that?" the tallest guy said. He stared down at the curly-haired man beside him. "Turbo, did he—"

"Don't call me that," May said to Clint through clenched teeth.

"She's a legend," Clint told Steve. "I heard this one time—"

"Give the lady a break," Steve said, poking Clint hard. The archer smacked his hand away and rubbed his side. Steve smiled apologetically at May, who seemed less tense since he spoke. "I'm sure you can handle yourself, but that was inappropriate, and I'm sure he's sorry."

Steve didn't notice any real change in her expression, but Coulson must have done.

"What is it, May? It's… wait." His eyes widened, and he looked from her to Steve, who frowned.

"What?" he said. "Did I offend—"

"No one's ever called me a lady before," May said. Steve's breath caught.

"What did you say?" he whispered.

"Whatever's written on you somewhere, I'm guessing," she said, holding out a hand. Steve took it, and kissed the back without thinking. Her eyes shone in silent laughter, and his stomach swooped.

"Wow, I'm feelin' real lucky now," he said, squeezing her hand gently. Just because she was a SHIELD legend didn't mean that he couldn't hurt her if he didn't mind his strength. "I promise, Clint won't insult you again if he doesn't wanna face the consequences." He gave Clint a warning look out of the corner of his eye. "I'm sure he hasn't forgotten the prank war between us yet."

Clint turned pale while the other Avengers sniggered. "Okay, I take it all back. I'll never say that word again. Nope. It's completely forgotten. What word? Agent May has no nickname. Nah-uh. I'm gonna go over here now."

"What'd you do to Barton?" May asked. Steve gave her a look of innocence.

"Nothing," he said. "That he wasn't asking for, anyway."

"I never thought I'd have a soulmate like you," she said. "I think you're exactly right for me."

"I sure hope so, ma'am."

"Call me Melinda."

"I'll call you whatever you like when we're alone," Steve said, running a finger along her pulse point. Her eyelids flickered briefly.

"Meet me in the cockpit in ten minutes," she said.

"Ten?"

"Yes."

He shrugged. "Ten it is."

She flashed him a small smile, and then sauntered out of the room. He stared shamelessly at her until she was out of sight, and then grinned giddily at Sam, who looked amused.

"She's my soulmate," Steve said. He couldn't help feeling a little awed. Ten minutes was gonna go slowly, that's for sure.

"Yeah, got that, buddy," Sam said, nudging him. He turned his head to speak to Coulson. "We'll try not to steal her."

Steve was confused by the look of surprise on Coulson's face.

"Well, thank God for that," the director eventually said. "I thought it was referring to my car."

"Your car?" Steve said. Sam was staring at Coulson, open-mouthed.

"Her name is Lola."

"You?" Sam said. "Well, shit. That explains why the mark went grey for almost a week. Confused the hell out of me." He grinned. "Remind me to thank Fury next time I see him."

"Wait, what?" Steve said as Sam threw his arm around Coulson and began to steer him out of the room. The young woman called Jemma began to giggle hysterically, and she covered her mouth.

"Oh my God!" she squeaked. "They're soulmates. Those are Coulson's words!"

"You realise what that means, don't you?" Skye said. They all looked at her. "Both May and Coulson are out the way. That means takeout, booze, and drinking games. Hey, Captain America." She jerked her thumb towards the doorway. "Better start moving. Heh." She chuckled. "Gives new meaning to 'cockpit'."

Blushing, Steve left the room quickly, still reeling about the fact that he and Sam both found their soulmates a few minutes apart, and that they were now inextricably linked to the New SHIELD team.

Not how he was expecting the day to go.

"You're early," Melinda said, relaxing back in her pilot's seat. Steve ducked his head as he entered the room and shut the door.

"It's the only occasion where I would come early," he said. Her eyes widened minutely, and then her smile turned sly.

"If the theories about super soldier stamina are true, I'm looking forward to finding that out first-hand," she said.

* * *

**I almost wrote Phil/Sam in 'Defrosting', but decided that it was cluttering up the story, what with the other pairings appearing. So I added it to this instead.**

**Oh, please don't hate me for the previous chapter! I felt terrible about it, but it was written, and I like exploring the different possibilities of soulmarks, including them fading when a relationship fails, to be replaced by another. I'll write something nicer with Fury, I promise.**

**Please review!**


	10. No Pussy Jokes (Mack x Darcy x Fitz)

"No Pussy Jokes"

Growing up, Darcy knew her soulmark was weird. As she grew older and attended sex ed, the words took on a whole new – and insulting – meaning. Whoever her soulmate was, he was a dick. Basically.

She had her soulmark when she was born, so they had no idea how old her soulmate would be. At first, her dad wanted to call her Katherine or Katrina or even Caitlyn. Anything that could be shortened to 'kitty' or 'cat', basically. Her mom vetoed that pretty darn quickly when she pointed out the double meaning of the words.

Her dad suggested Darcy, and her mom agreed.

She asked for a cat, when she was a child. But her brother turned out to be allergic, so bang went that idea. She did dress in a cat costume for every costume party she attended… until she discovered that teenage boys and college students could still be creepy in disguise. Thankfully, her words were twined around her ear; as long as she wore her hair long and down, it covered them.

The only consolation? She was still a kid when she received her second soulmark, around her wrist. It wasn't embarrassing at all, so she figured her older soulmate would possibly be her snarky best friend, and the other would be her romantic soulmate. Okay, he or she was a few years younger than her, but at least the words weren't creepy. Not like 'Hey, do you want some yummy milk, kitty-cat?'

Ugh. Disgusting.

* * *

You know why Darcy hated living in Stark Tower? _Despite_ the fact that she was surrounded by ubër-competent super-humans – or maybe because of it – the tower attracted a whole heap of crazy. And when it hit Darcy? Yeah, it sucked. Because once some insane sorcerer started running through the hallways and throwing out hexes right and left, and getting a lucky hit on Darcy's hiding place, it became the time to reconsider her life choices.

She was still hiding when a pair of solid-sounding boots approached the room. She poked her head out from behind the table, and blinked up at the giant who walked into the office.

"Doesn't look like there's anyone in here, JARVIS," he said.

"There is, Mr. Mackenzie. If you turn to your left…"

He looked around, and his gaze landed on her. His eyes widened in surprise, and he squatted down, beckoning. Darcy shied back. But then if JARVIS trusted him… and Mackenzie. Wasn't a guy with that name on Coulson's team? They called him Mack? Okay, maybe it was safe to approach.

"Hey," he said, his voice coaxing, "do you want some yummy milk, kitty-cat?"

Darcy stared at him, freezing in place.

What. The hell? Wasn't he supposed to be a nice guy?

"Sir, that isn't a cat," JARVIS said. "That is Miss Lewis, Dr. Foster's intern."

"I'm a cat?" Darcy shrieked, looking around for a shiny surface. Then she realised that she was meowing. And… and she had paws. She turned her head to look at her butt. A tail! She had a freakin' tail! Oh, she was so bugging Stark into upgrading his security. Although… it was kinda fun to try to get at her tail. Hey, tail! Come back here!

"Miss Lewis!" JARVIS said loudly. She squeak-meowed, and barrelled towards Mack. She leapt for his lap, hitting him in the stomach with her head. He fell back onto his ass with a laugh.

"Well, haven't you got a hell of a head-butt on you?" he said. He began to scratch behind her ear, and she purred as she pushed into the _wonderful_ sensation. That was nice. Oh yeah. Nearly as nice as chasing her tail. Hell, she could be _converted_ into ear scratches!

"We had best get her upstairs," JARVIS said. "Now that the threat has been dealt with, the others are convening in the common area. You can take the elevator straight there."

"Thanks," Mack said, getting to his feet. He was holding Darcy in one hand. Damn, she knew she was small at the moment – holy hell, she was a _cat_! – but he was still humungous. Hey, she could climb him like a tree!

She bumped her head against his chest, rubbing up against him like a scratching-post, and she got a belly rub for her efforts. Result!

"Oh, this is so awkward," Mack said, and he laughed against. "How the hell do I explain this to Fitz?"

"The effects appear to have been temporary on the other victims, sir. Miss Lewis was among the last. It should not be long until she is returned to normal. With any luck, her clothes will appear with her, as they did with the others."

Darcy paused at that. Shit, she didn't even consider that she could come back _naked_. She better get her clothes back, or she'd make that asshole pay. These were her best jeans! And one of her boob tops! Plus her one pair of designer boots.

"Here we are," Mack said, stepping out of the elevator. Darcy had climbed up his shirt and she stared at his face. He smiled back. "Hey, Miss Lewis."

Boop! She couldn't not boop his nose. It was right there. She only used the pads of her paws, so no scratching went on. If she was human, she would've laughed her butt off at the look of shock on his face.

"Who's this?" Natasha said. She took Darcy into her arms, and held her up. Darcy reached out her paw and booped Natasha on the nose as well. Because it was there. "I'm guessing this one is Lewis?"

"Yep," Mack said. "Well, at least I don't have to ask whether she's dairy intolerant."

"Water is better for cats than milk," Natasha said, placing Darcy on the sofa. "It won't be too long now."

"Oh, isn't it cute!" a curly-haired man cooed, squatting beside the sofa. Darcy watched him as he picked up her leg just above the paw, and shook it gently. "You'll be all right soon, I promise."

"None of the other victims have suffered ill effects?" Natasha said while Darcy watched Mack stroke Curls' hair gently. Holy shit. Curls hummed.

"Not that we've noticed, although they may not appear right away," he said. "Simmons will keep us informed. They all have to go into quarantine. It doesn't appear to be contagious, which is good for _both of you_." He narrowed his eyes as he looked from Mack to Natasha. "Considering you both handled her."

"So did you," Mack pointed out, because yeah, pot and kettle and all that. Curls ducked his head.

"Couldn't resist," he said. "Look at her. Aren't you a beautiful little cat, eh?" He tickled her under the chin, and then stroked a finger down her nose. She sneezed, shaking her head. He chuckled. "Och, you're adorable."

"She _is_ a human," Natasha reminded him.

"Aye, but I'm sure she's cute as a button anyway."

Darcy felt a twitching in her limbs, and skittered to the middle of the sofa. She nearly tripped over her tail, and looked back at it. Ooh, it wanted to be chased again, did it? Ha! Time to pounce. Darn it, missed…

Then, seconds later, she went through a burst of pain, a stretch of skin and clothing, and she was back to normal. Well, sort of normal.

Huh. At least her first soulmark wasn't as creepy as she thought it'd be, in the end. Still, she glared at Mack.

"You're lucky I wasn't myself, or I would've slapped you for saying that," she said, pointing at him. She paused, and looked at Curls, who looked gob-smacked. "So what's your name, cute stuff?"

"I-I'm Leo Fitz," he said.

"You're on iPod-Thief's team as well, aren't you? And you're the one they call Mack?"

"In my defence, I never planned to meet my first soulmate while she was a cat," he said, raising his hands. Natasha raised her eyebrows.

"What on Earth were his first words to you?" she asked. Darcy sniffed delicately.

"Let's just say that out of context? They sounded like they came from a creeper. The phrases 'yummy milk' and 'kitty-cat' come into it."

"Shit," Mack said, scratching his head. "I'm sorry. That must've been tough."

She shrugged. "At least the first place you touched me was behind my ear," she said. "It meant my words are easy to hide." She patted Leo on the shoulder. "Well, after that I need a drink."

"You need to go into quarantine," Natasha said. Darcy pouted.

"But soulmates!" she said, gesturing at her two hot new buddies. "You guys are soulmates, right?"

"Y-yeah," Leo said. "But we'd love to have you. I mean not in that sense! Well, yes, obviously in _that_ sense, but also as a—"

"We'd like to be in a romantic relationship, is what Turbo is trying to say," Mack said, putting his arm around Leo's back. "We'll be here when you're cleared by quarantine, okay?"

She hated to leave, but she agreed. "Okay. But as soon as I get a bill of health? Bar, dinner, dancing, bed. In no particular order. I've waited most of your life and all of yours to meet you."

"I'm sure we can push you ahead of the queue to get checked out," Natasha said, nudging Darcy ahead of her. "No, you can't kiss them, so don't even think about running back. You know I'll catch you."

"Damn."

* * *

Darcy stared at herself in the mirror. "What. The. Hell?"

"We've found that the others can do it as well," Jemma said. She was super-friendly towards Darcy after finding out that she was Leo and Mack's third. "I would recommend leading up to trying a full-body transformation. According to the healers from Asgard – although I'd already worked it out, but it's nice to have otherworldly confirmation when they know so much about magic – it's irreversible. Congratulations! You have a super power, Darcy."

She concentrated on turning her cat-nose back to her human-nose, and her ears shifted back into place. It was the weirdest situation, the kind of thing seen in horror films, but she was so glad she'd read the Immortals series by Tamora Pierce. If she thought of herself as another Verildaine, she was fine. She wasn't freaked out at all that she could turn herself into a cat.

Okay, maybe a little freaked out, but this was still _epic_. She could change her eyes, so yay, she could see in the dark. If she got bored, she could grow a tail and chase it (which was more fun than anyone else seemed to realise). She fully intended to learn how to change into a cat. It wasn't useful in a battle situation, but for little missions, it'd be great to know. Tony and Mack were already designing a harness for her to wear in cat form that she could remove herself. Coulson and Pepper were trying to talk them out of it, but there was only so much a person could control Tony Stark.

As for Mack and Leo, she was _desperate_ to see them. She was a bit worried about the possibility of going into heat like a feline, but Jemma had confirmed that there didn't seem to be any physiological changes in that respect.

Actually, as soon as she got out of here, Darcy would have to call her parents and tell her father to stop polishing his shotgun. Mack wasn't being creepy; he thought he was talking to an actual cat. That _might_ be harder to explain, of course…

"Okay, well, it's time to check you out of here," Jemma said. Darcy whirled around and grinned.

"I can go home?" she said. "`Cause I've got some handsome soulmates to get to know."

"I know you do," Jemma said, her smile broadening. "I've fast-tracked your paperwork. You just need to sign it," she handed over a clipboard and pen, "and you'll be fine. At least until Director Coulson adds you to the new asset register. We asked him to call it the Animagus register, but he gave us a sort of withering look, and sent us out of the office. I mean, he wouldn't even have to change the initials! Animagus and asset both start with 'a'! Ah well." She accepted the clipboard back, and beamed. "Follow me. Your soulmates await you."

If anyone raised their eyebrows, Darcy would swear that it was just a cat-like impulse to pounce on her boys.

"Ever seen _Are You Being Served?_" Leo asked in the car, while they both stroked Darcy's legs, arms, and occasionally behind an ear. She half-hissed.

"Make any pussy jokes and you won't ever see mine," she said.

* * *

**I couldn't resist. I'm sorry. I'm a bad person.**

**Lots of people have loved my FitzMack references, so I gave them a chapter where they're part of the main ship. Since they've already met in canon, I felt the need to add someone else. I could say that I ignored that with Clint and Fury, but considering that Clint ended up with Jemma, I still did the crossover thing. And contributed to the rare ship of BioHawk. I promote this ship, peoples!**

**Thank you for all your requests for future ships. I've noted them down and will get around to them eventually, I imagine. I'll certainly try. And I'll also try to get on with my other fan fiction.**

**Oh, and please review!**


	11. This Is Not Good (Johnny x Phil x Doom)

"This Is Not Good"

Dancing through the crowd, Johnny bumped into someone he recognised from a distance. One of Reed and Sue's friends, or whatever they were to each other. Victor something.

"Enjoying it so far?" he asked over the loud music. Victor's eyes narrowed.

"I hate to ask, but is this your writing?" he said, pulling up his sleeve. Johnny knew before he even saw the words, but he nodded in confirmation.

"Yep," he said. "Why did you hate to ask it?"

Victor looked him up and down. Johnny could admit to himself that the older student was a good-looking guy, and hell, Johnny was flexible. He was also _just_ of age (or would be in a couple of days). So he pasted on his best smile and come-hither eyes, and moved closer. Victor took a step back, the tease.

"You're the wrong Storm, but you'll do," he said. Johnny stopped dancing, and stared at him.

"What?" he said. He must've misheard. The music _was_ kinda loud.

"I said that you'll do," Victor said.

"Do what?"

"For me. You're not exactly what I wanted, but we're apparently soulmates. Show me your mark."

"No," Johnny said, pulling back a couple of steps. He frowned. "No, not gonna happen, buddy."

"You're the one they call Johnny, aren't you?" Victor said, still approaching. Johnny moved further away.

"And you're the one I call asshole," he said, and he retreated back through the crush of bodies until he emerged outside. Shit. He hoped it was a platonic bond. Dude, he didn't even want to be bonded at _all _to a guy like that!

Please, please, _please_ let his other soulmate be less of a jerk.

* * *

_Fifteen years later_

Exhaling through his nose, Phil took the last step off the plane into Latveria. He hated the thought of being an ambassador, but it was necessary. Whether or not Victor von Doom was on HYDRA's side, agents had been spotted crossing Latveria's borders, and if Doom hated HYDRA then it was possible to get him on their side, at least in wiping out a common enemy.

And if Doom was with HYDRA… well, SHIELD would still be in good hands with Phil's team at the helm. Those were his instructions.

"Oh hell," he muttered as he approached Doom's castle. There were flashes of light, the sounds of crashing, and no one was on the gates. He was able to enter the property and the castle without being challenged. From one angle, as he ran up internal stairs, he could see the Fantasticar.

At this rate, Phil was going to get a headache.

There was a burst of warmth nearby. Two guards ran past, and Phil ducked as they shot back over their shoulders. A man-shaped ball of fire charged after them. Johnny Storm. Well, Phil would deal with that particular headache later.

He ran in the direction of most of the sound, and fell against the wall at a quake.

"Skye, are you here?" he hissed into his comm. unit.

"Not me, DC."

"Must be The Thing," he said. When the tremors stopped, he continued on his way.

The first time he saw Victor von Doom in person, he was being half-strangled by a variety of Reed Richards' body parts. Doom glanced at Phil, and smiled while he continued to shoot at Mr. Fantastic.

"Are you the one I was expecting?" Doom said.

Phil allowed himself a moment to feel unsettled, and then remembered that this was currently a battle zone.

"Yes, although this is incredibly bad timing," he said, indicating the destruction around him. Doom's eyes widened exponentially.

"You are my other soulmate?" he said.

"If our handwritings match, I believe so." He raised an eyebrow at Richards. "Could you please let him go? I'm here as an ambassador from New SHIELD."

Reed dropped Doom, who stumbled but didn't fall. Phil took a few steps forward, his hand itching to reach for his gun. He knew that Doom was the bad guy, and hoped to Asgard that his other soulmate didn't work with the Latverian ruler.

"My team and I have been tracking down HYDRA agents, to finish off the work the SSR started," Phil continued. "We have reason to believe that there is a base in Latveria. Are you on their side?"

Doom tilted his head. "You are blunt for an ambassador."

"I prefer getting things done to the run-around of democratic word games."

"Very sensible," Doom said. "Very well. Let us adjourn to my study, and we can discuss it there."

"If this kind of unrest is going on right now… Look, we're going after the HYDRA agents. If you try to protect them, you'll be caught in the crossfire. If you hate them as much as we do, help us take them out. If you don't care either way, stay out of it so that we can get our job done. But if you decide to take us on—"

"What is this?" Doom asked, walking forward. "You are my soulmate. We have not even been introduced."

"My name is Phil Coulson. I'm the director of the new, _clean_ incarnation of the former Strategic Homeland Intervention—"

"I have heard of SHIELD, and I have heard of you." Doom held out a hand. Phil didn't take it. "An honour to meet the man so highly thought of."

"Whose side are you on?" Phil said, persistent. He wasn't going to be walked all over, and he wasn't going to shake hands, not when there was a chance his could be crushed if he made a false move.

"What'd I miss?" a voice said. Phil swivelled on his heel, and saw Johnny Storm in the flesh for the first time. He sauntered up to Phil, sending a hard look over his shoulder at Doom. Phil considered getting the hell out of there – he was losing control over the situation fast, if he'd even gained any kind of control in the first place – but Johnny's next words sent his head spinning. "I'll gladly fry this guy if he's bothering you."

"That's a very kind offer, but I'm sure it won't be necessary… yet," Phil said. Johnny's jaw dropped.

"You're… you're…"

"He is our third, Johnny," Doom said, gesturing to Phil, who took a step back.

"A true triad, then," he said. Johnny waved his hands back and forth.

"I am _not_ with that asshole," he said. "No way."

"Wait, Johnny, are your other words _Victor's_?" the Invisible Woman said. Johnny rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, and then he implied that he would settle for me since he couldn't have you," he said, "so like hell did it ever go anywhere."

"He said that to you?" Phil said. He was affronted on his second soulmate's behalf, and glared at Doom. The ruler stared right back.

"Now we three can be complete," he said, holding out his hands. Phil glanced at Johnny, who was still looking at Doom with utter disgust. "Come. Perhaps I shall behave myself in a stable relationship?"

"Oh, hell to the no," Johnny said, turning on his heel. Doom frowned.

"Will you at least stay by my side?" he asked Phil. The director hesitated.

"I can understand Johnny's feelings," he said. "You've basically just implied that you'd be willing to try to place nice if we stayed with you. That sounds close enough to prostitution that it's degrading, more so between soulmates. We're the ones trying to save people, and you cause destruction. It would be more flattering if you turned over a new leaf for us." He straightened his spine. "Do me a favour, if you want to start out right. Make sure my team and I have no trouble taking out HYDRA while we're here. If all goes well, Latveria won't see any earthquakes."

"You have my word," Doom said, and he half-bowed. Phil nodded at Reed and Sue, at Ben as he walked down the stairs again, and ran into Johnny as he hopped off the bottom step.

"Can we talk?" Johnny said. Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed hold of Phil's wrist and dragged him through the castle, out the door, and round the corner to the Fantasticar.

"Uh—"

"We'll fit in my part just fine, don't worry. Hell, you can sit on my lap if you want." He winked. Phil coughed, and squashed into the seat next to Johnny. There was probably more room than he thought, but the Human Torch seemed content to press into his side. He felt like a hot water bottle, which was nice in the cool weather.

With a jolt, they detached from the rest of the Fantasticar and flew into the sky.

"What did he say to you?" Johnny said.

"Not much. Just that he'd let us do our job and get rid of the HYDRA branch here."

"No, not that. When you met."

"Oh." Phil drew up his sleeve. "Just asked me whether I was the person he was expecting. To turn up, of course. We did send advance notice."

"Was that smart?" Johnny asked.

"Better than showing up unannounced. That never ends well."

"There speaks the voice of experience." Johnny side-eyed him. "What's your name?"

"Of course, you weren't there for that part of the conversation. My name's Phil Coulson."

"Holy shit. You're Fury's replacement, aren't you? You were in charge of the Avengers Initiative."

"I wouldn't say that—"

"Director of a whole spy organisation? I struck gold." Johnny grinned as he followed where Phil pointed. "This yours?"

"One of them. We're not a big spy organisation. Not anymore." He sent a message to May, letting her know they were coming in. "We need all the help we can get."

"What about the Avengers?"

"They… don't know that I'm alive."

"That's awkward," Johnny remarked.

"The longer they go without knowing, the worse it's going to be when it all comes out."

Johnny sighed as he lowered the car.

"Meanwhile, what're we gonna do about Doom?" he said.

"Not all soulmates are romantically linked," Phil said. "In triads, it's often the case that there is one romantic bond and two platonic ones."

"Well, I know which one I'd prefer with you." Johnny put his hand on Phil's knee, and squeezed it gently. Phil smirked.

"Why me?" he said. "Doom's closer to you in age."

"Why? Because he's an asshole who drove me off in less than three minutes with his insulting behaviour, and…" Phil was chuckling. "You… Okay, yeah, I fell into that one."

"When was it?"

"At least ten years ago. We were both still students, and… that's right, I'd nearly reached my majority. So about fifteen years back."

"You've been without your soulmates all that time?"

"Nah. I've seen him far too often. Couldn't get away from him, _ever_. But at least he never approached me again. Maybe he was hoping to find you first?"

"He did find me first, technically. But I must admit that I'm not interested in getting involved with a bad guy."

Johnny smiled. "I'm a bit of a bad boy, but I think you already know that."

Phil looked across at him as he switched off the ignition. As soon as the car was settled, he reached across, turned Johnny's face around, and kissed him.

* * *

_Six months later_

It was hard, so hard, telling the Avengers that he was alive, but Johnny went with Phil to Stark Tower. To protect him, he said, when the partial truth was that Johnny had become attached to Phil. SHIELD had more contact with the Fantastic Four than it did with the Avengers. It was a smaller superhero team, but they worked better together. And living on the Bus with Phil meant that there was less friction between Johnny and Ben. That made everyone's lives easier.

But with the Avengers' reluctant assistance, and with the Fantastic Four helping when they could, bit by bit they managed to reduce HYDRA's numbers.

It helped that the Latverian secret service and army had been surprisingly helpful in taking out HYDRA cells in and around the country. Doom established an international fund to provide financial support to victims of HYDRA and other terrorist groups, smarming the European and American wealthy into contributing as well.

"I'd say it was flattering," Johnny began, "but—"

"We don't know whether or not he's doing it to get something," Phil finished. He was lying on his bunk, holding Johnny from behind as they talked quietly. "Whether he's doing this—"

"For the right reason or the wrong reason. Yeah."

"Still." Phil kissed the shell of his ear. "I suspect we'll find out."

"He's coming here?"

"According to the flight path. May texted me five minutes ago."

"That explains why you tensed when you read it," Johnny said. "Sorry. Didn't give you a chance to tell me what the message was."

"I don't mind your form of distraction," Phil said, smirking as he leaned down to kiss Johnny again.

About ten minutes later, someone knocked at the door.

"Yo!" It was Skye. "Your visitor's here."

"Damn it," Johnny sighed, and he stood up. "Coming! Just give us a minute."

"It'll be okay," Phil said. "As long as we're together."

"What does he want?"

"To let the past go, maybe."

"He…" He fidgeted in place, stilling only when Phil touched his lower back. "He can't expect…"

"I know it wasn't a great beginning, and ours wasn't much better."

"Are you kidding? Less than half an hour after we met you were kissing me. I'd say that's a hell of a lot better than 'I suppose you might be good enough'. I thought I was straight until I met you."

"That's flattering."

"It is!"

"I know. No sarcasm intended."

Johnny entwined their fingers together. "Let's get this over with."

"We don't have to do anything we don't want to, Johnny. Remember that. No matter how strong Doom is, he can't stand up against Melinda May."

Johnny laughed as he followed Phil out of the room and downstairs. His laughter petered out when they came face-to-face with their other soulmate.

"Greetings," Doom said. Johnny wouldn't let Phil's hand go, though it was hard to keep control of his heat.

"Hello," Phil said. "What brings you here?"

"I… I wished for a second chance."

"Was it all to sugar us up?" Johnny said. "Playing the do-gooder?"

Doom flinched. "I turned over the new leaf you suggested," he told Phil. "I have been trying to be a better man for you. Both of you." He cleared his throat and met Johnny's eyes. "I made a bad first impression on you, and I am sorry for that. My manner was unforgivable. If I had the opportunity to try again, I would take it."

"Why should I believe you?"

"There is no reason for you to believe that I am sincere, but I am. I have been attempting to show my repentance in an acceptable way."

"What do you expect out of us?" Phil asked, stroking the inside of Johnny's ring finger.

"Nothing," Doom said, although his eyes closed briefly, like he was in pain. "I would ask for friendship, though. I… do not have friends. Susan was close, but she preferred Reed, and I took that out on you, Johnny." He turned his gaze to meet Phil's. "If not friends, can we not be allies? I will provide you with whatever resources I can, as long as it keeps you safer. Not safe, as much as I would like to protect my soulmates."

"But you can't protect us from life or death," Phil said. He hesitated. "We can't just take what you give us—"

"Do not think of it as charity; merely doing my duty as your third. I cannot see myself in a relationship with either of you, let alone both. You are too entangled for that."

"We are," Johnny said, turning his body in to Phil's.

"May I at least speak with you for five minutes?" Doom said. "It can be strictly business talk, if you prefer."

"Give us a moment," Phil said, and he tugged Johnny over to the corner.

"You can't be serious!" Johnny hissed, the light in his eyes flaring.

"Johnny, it was a decade and a half ago. I'm not asking you to forgive everything – we know what he's done in the past, and tried to do – but we need him. His resources and him. We're a triad of some kind. He could _never_ tear us apart, you know that. But he needs us, too. He needs friends. With his help, we could win this war, and don't you think that's more important than letting old grievances have their way?"

Johnny stared into his eyes. "Do you really believe that?"

"Hey." Phil cupped his face. "_Nothing_ in this world means more to me than you, _nothing_. And I would never ask you to do something that made you uncomfortable unless it was important, just as I expect you to extend the same courtesy. But if having some kind of regular contact with him helps in any way, and if we accept the few resources he can provide that Stark doesn't already, then… If you prefer, I could talk with him alone."

"He might try to—"

"Nothing he could try would change what's between you and me, Johnny." Phil kissed him gently. "It's only five minutes, and we can stop at any time."

Johnny squeezed Phil's wrists. "You mean more to me than anything else, too."

"Will you try?" Johnny nodded. "Our office. It's not exactly neutral territory, but it's private, and it's just an office. Not our quarters."

"Okay."

They returned to Doom, who was carefully not watching them.

"Please follow us," Phil said.

* * *

**Okay, so zandperl asked for Doom/Johnny/Phil and Kira Kyuu asked for Doom/Phil. I hope this ticked both of those boxes. If not, I could write Doom/Phil separately.**

**This wasn't a wholly romantic triad, I know, so oops. At least throwing Phil into the mix made it a crossover. I just had to make up a meet cute between Johnny and Victor which, you know, was awkward. Then after that I couldn't see them being all lovey-dovey together, since Johnny seems the type to bear a grudge and Phil is too stuck on the side of the goodies to bring himself to be in a relationship with a dictator and enemy of a superhero squad.**

**Still. Got some Coulstorm romance in there. What would this ship be called? Coulstorm of Doom? Coulvictorstorm?**

**Please review!**


	12. Blond (Johnny x Steve)

"Blond"

"Wow, it's much closer now that you've cut your hair."

Steve Rogers whirled around, and stared at the man in front of him. Jesus Christ, it was almost like looking in a mirror. Then his reflection smiled the kind of smile Steve had never smiled in his life, and he knew that this situation had descended into 'This can't be happening' territory.

"Seemed necessary to fit in," he said hoarsely. This guy wasn't his long-lost twin – Steve had been an only child – but this would be horrifying if the other man turned out to be an unexpected descendant.

"Wait, really?" the stranger said. "Captain America is my soulmate?"

"Apparently," Steve said, holding out his hand. "But I'd prefer it if you called me Steve."

"Aw, even in bed?"

"Crap. Are we related?"

"Nope. Not as far as I know. Just an incredible coincidence." He moved a step closer, and Steve nearly backed off.

"What's your name?" he asked. The man cocked his head, frowning, and then his expression cleared.

"You've only been around a couple of years, so you're forgiven for not recognising me," he said with a touch of arrogance. "Johnny Storm, aka the Human Torch. The youngest quarter of the Fantastic Four."

"I've heard of you," Steve said. "I only read the newspapers, though, and most of the time it's not for the news."

Johnny shrugged. "S'okay. I don't know which of us is getting the better end of the deal. Pretty close call."

"You don't lack confidence in any way, do you?" Steve remarked, smiling as he looked over his soulmate. If he looked long enough, maybe the prospect of being with Johnny would seem less narcissistic.

Johnny tugged him close with the hand Steve was still holding. "Wanna get out of here? Or go get coffee, at least?"

Steve looked around the park. He and Sam had already met up, and Steve had been planning to wander around and take in the fresh air. He had no idea he'd meet the soulmate he didn't know he had until he woke up from the ice.

"Coffee sounds great," he said.

"Sweet! Lemme just grab my bike. How'd you get here? I hear you ride as well." He looked Steve over with a smirk. "I hope you ride _well_."

Steve didn't think he was all that capable of blushing, but apparently he was. "Uh, I walked. Well, ran."

"Wanna ride behind me? Innocently, of course. Otherwise we could be arrested."

"Shit." Steve covered his pink cheeks. "Yeah, okay. If you think your bike can handle my muscle mass."

"Oh, I'm lookin' forward to handling all of you myself later," Johnny said, leading Steve out of the park and along the sidewalk.

"Don't you think it's awkward? We look so alike."

"Well, I'd say we could grow our hair out, but I'm a natural blond. My hair's only dark when it's short like this."

"You _sure_ we're not related?"

"Considering the kinda things I wanna do to you?" Johnny raised an eyebrow as he threw a helmet to Steve. "I really hope not."

* * *

Steve felt ashamed of having to sneak his soulmate back into the tower, but Johnny had assured him that his bed wasn't strong enough for a super soldier, so they'd have to use Steve's. Even the walls might not be strong enough.

"Usually the walk of shame happens the morning after, not the night before," he said. They'd spent all day together, having coffee, riding around the city, eating lunch, going to a movie, walking around a park, then having dinner. Every one of Johnny's light touches had slowly driven Steve mad, until he was the one to suggest that they find somewhere more private. All right, JARVIS would be monitoring, but that's what he did, and he'd turn off the video and audio feed to Steve's bedroom if he asked nicely.

"It's just awkward, that's all," Steve said.

"But you're definitely thinking with the brain between your legs and not in your head."

"Can you blame me?" Johnny smirked, and Steve swore. "It feels vain to want to get you into my bed."

"I still haven't seen your soulmark," Johnny reminded him. "You said it's in a private place."

"The kinda place where, if we bond, the position will be…" Steve felt his cheeks grow redder. His soulmark was high on his inner right thigh.

"Hey, bonding doesn't have to take place tonight. I really just wanna burn up the sheets with you. Not literally; I can control myself, I swear. But we can create a fire all of our own."

"At least if you scorch me, I'll heal quickly," Steve muttered as he pulled Johnny into his bedroom.

"Nice bed," Johnny said, eyeing it then Steve. "Wanna shower first?"

"Yeah. I haven't got a change of clothes for you—"

"We're probably around the same size. Your clothes might be a little bigger on me, but that's okay. They probably won't stay on all that long." His eyes trailed down Steve's body. "And I sure as hell won't need pyjamas tonight."

Steve felt like something caught in his throat, and swallowed. "Do you wanna take the shower first?"

Johnny pouted. "You mean we're not showering together? Because I kinda like the idea of soaking wet bodies pressing against each other—"

Steve shut him up quickly, backing Johnny into the door and attacking his mouth with the kind of energy he usually used in sparring with Thor. Johnny could only hold on for the ride, grinding up against Steve as he wound his arms around the back of Steve's neck.

* * *

Despite his super soldier stamina, and his habit of rising early (in more ways than one), Steve slept in for the first time since… well, the occasional hard battle. He preferred to get up and get ready for the day ahead. When he awoke, he thought he'd had some Freudian dream about his soulmate being his doppelganger. What did that say about him?

"Sir," JARVIS said, startling Steve. "I believe you should head down to the common area. Your… guest went down ahead of you, and some confusion may soon arise."

"My guest? I didn't dream that?"

"That your soulmate is Johnny Storm, and that he appears similar in appearance to you? No, sir, you did not dream that."

"Great." Steve scrubbed his hands over his face. Johnny was downstairs. With… with the others. Shit, what if he decided to try to pretend to be Steve? What if they reacted with appropriate suspicion?

No thought to pyjamas, Steve vaulted out of bed in only the underwear he'd pulled on last night in a late concession to modesty. JARVIS took him straight downstairs, where he wasn't the least bit surprised to see the others glaring at Johnny as he tucked into pop tarts with a gusto Steve had never displayed towards them. When they saw Steve, Natasha's hands went to her knives.

"It's okay!" he shouted, hurrying to Johnny's side with his hands out in front of him.

"Life Model Decoys don't eat," Tony said, gauntlets already covering his hands.

"He's not an LMD," Steve said. "This is Johnny Storm. He's… he's my soulmate."

Johnny smiled smugly around a piece of pop tart he'd speared on his fork. Steve sighed, and leaned against the counter beside him. Clint snorted.

"You're seriously telling us that your soulmate looks exactly like you?" he said. "To be honest, I expect this kind of narcissism from Storm, but you, Steve?"

"We never see our true selves except in photographs," Steve said. "When we look in mirrors, we see ourselves in reverse."

"What about webcams?" Tony said.

"Not the point I'm trying to make, Stark!"

"We don't look exactly alike," Johnny said, and he pursed his lips in disappointment as he looked Steve over. "All my bite marks are gone. Yours are still on me, at least." He pointed to his neck and opened the button-up he was wearing to show the multitude of love bites Steve had left on him. "I hope they last for days, but I see I'm gonna have to try harder in marking you up."

"Super healing," Steve said. "I don't think it'll work."

"But I can have lots of fun trying. I can guarantee you'll enjoy it even more than you did last night. And early this morning. And all the times in between."

Steve flushed as the others looked at him with varying expressions of awe.

"Sorry," he said, even though he didn't have any idea why he was apologising. Johnny stood up, and pressed the last bite of pop tart against Steve's lips. He opened obediently, and swallowed what he was offered. (And didn't _that_ take him back to this morning…)

"Want some breakfast?" Johnny said. "You ate a hell of a lot yesterday, and that's before you even got to me."

Bruce buried his face in his hands, laughing, while the rest looked at Steve with respect. He threw a balled-up napkin at the doctor in revenge.

* * *

Thor, being an Asgardian, could tell the difference between Johnny and Steve without even looking at them. Natasha and Clint were observant, especially Clint with his sharp eyesight, so they swiftly picked up on the differences. Bruce didn't care, treating them the same. When Bucky eventually left therapy with Sam and joined them, he knew Steve at once, and Steve clued Sam in to the differences between them.

The others who didn't know them all that well – or, in the scientists' case, found it hard to get their heads out of science-space – found it more difficult, and could easily be tricked. But the funniest part was when Johnny introduced Steve to his family by making him go up to the penthouse of the Baxter Building first, to see whether he could trick them into believing that he was Johnny.

Ben looked at Steve with deep suspicion, muttered 'I prefer this one', and kept on walking. Alicia was working on a sculpture, and raised her head.

"I'm sure you do," she said. Steve raised an eyebrow; wasn't she supposed to be blind? But if that enhanced her other senses…

"Is Johnny back yet?" Susan said, walking into the room with the mail. She glanced at him. "Finally. Where were you?"

"Met my soulmate," he said, which was true. Alicia dropped a handful of clay and Ben's head jerked up.

"What?" he said. Susan beamed.

"That's wonderful, Johnny!" she said. Wow, it was true; she saw what she expected to see.

It was when Reed walked in a second later that Steve didn't know how to feel. Reed passed him by, pausing only to look at his face. He did a double-take, and then examined Steve's features.

"Huh," he said. "Funny." Then he shook his head and continued on his way. Susan frowned, approached Steve, and halfway there she stopped.

"What?" she said. "Who the hell are you?"

"Steve Rogers," he said. "Johnny's downstairs. Gotta ask how you knew."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I was expecting my brother. You look so much like him."

"I'm sure you'll work out the differences soon enough, being his sister an' all. We'll be seeing more of each other."

"Why?"

"Weren't you listening?" Alicia said, working with the clay again. "He found his soulmate."

"Wait, you're saying…" Ben's eyes widened. Then he threw back his head, chortling loudly, and Reed whipped around.

"What's happening?" he said. It was a familiar action; Steve could've told anyone that Reed was a scientist without knowing it before, based purely on that.

Ben couldn't stop laughing long enough to explain, and Alicia was smiling to herself, so it was left to Sue.

"This is Captain America," she said, indicating Steve. "He's… Johnny's soulmate."

"Johnny's soulmate?" Reed said, looking Steve up and down. "Why am I not surprised?"

* * *

So began the Great Swap Around, as Johnny called it, and the Confusing Prank as Steve called it.

Anytime there was a press conference Steve was nervous about, Johnny would handle it instead. Anytime Johnny had to attend a charity event, Steve would go in his place. If anyone noticed the differences, they didn't comment on it, which was just as well. If it was over-analysed, they wouldn't be able to pull it off anymore, not if their tells and slight physical differences were identified and documented.

Unfortunately, to maintain the secret they couldn't be seen in public together.

"I want everyone to know that I have a soulmate," Steve said, propped against his headboard beside Johnny, who was stretched out with his arms crossed behind his head.

"Why? Not saying I'd be in any danger, but—"

"Most of the world seems to be convinced that my soulmate died a long time ago, which means that I'm available to anyone with a shoulder to cry on; or worse, someone without a soulmark who thinks that they just have to kiss and they'll turn out to be my second chance."

Johnny snorted. "Not gonna happen. You like this ass too much to give it up. Not to mention the rest of me." He leered at Steve, who rolled his eyes.

"I know it's been fun and games pretending to be each other, tricking the world like that," he said. "But I feel like we have to come clean at some point. I don't want to take it too far. We've gotten lucky so far, but if an emergency arose, or someone asked to see you set something on fire while I'm pretending to be you, or—"

"Or asked me to lift something you could, but I can't," Johnny said. "Or throw your Frisbee."

Steve frowned mildly. "It's a shield."

"I know." Johnny patted his shoulder, then lounged back again. "Just yankin' your chain."

"Prefer you to yank something else. I mean…" He covered his burning face while Johnny laughed. "The point is, I wanna be formerly and publicly tied to you in a ceremonial bond."

Johnny's laughter trailed off. "You proposing to me?"

"…Yes."

"Huh." He paused. "Okay."

* * *

**You're a bad influence, zandperl. A bad, bad influence, and I hope you're happy with yourself. I was going to try and toss Loki into the mix, but it just didn't seem to work with this story. Better lucky next time, I suppose. Still. Here's the requested Johnny/Steve.**

**Uh, sorry there was more implied smut than actual plot in this. My bad?**

**Please review! I've had several requests for various ships; add to that my previous ideas, and I've got plenty to be going on with. Keep prompting if you like, but don't expect a miraculous five chapters a day or whatever. Not unless I have a bit too much sugar than is good for me.**


	13. Falling in Lab (Bruce x Jemma)

"Falling in Lab"

Oh. My. God.

They were in Stark Tower.

STARK TOWER!

Jemma wasn't excited at all. Of course not. No.

…That would be a severe. Understatement.

"Calm down," Skye said, though her voice sounded tight.

"Me? Calm down? _You_ calm down!"

"I'm calm. Look at me." Skye gestured down her body. "Perfectly calm."

"Liar." Skye bumped against her side. "Don't tell me you're not desperate to meet Tony Stark."

"Please." She snorted. "They want us to visit because of _us_. He wants to know how I managed to crack into his system and leave a trail of bread crumbs to our rescue. Three times, despite the upgrades. How did I do it? Because I am awesome. That's how."

"Yes, you are very awesome," Jemma said.

"Yeah, sounds awkward when you say it, but thanks for acknowledging my greatness."

Jemma squealed through her nose as they were led into the common area. Phil stood there calmly, despite the dirty looks being thrown his way.

"In my defence, I was actually dead for five days, and it kind of screws with the system," he said, pointing towards his head. "Before you start yelling at me – on the off-chance you were—"

"Oh, we're going to," Agent Barton said, glaring darkly at him. Phil cleared his throat.

"Let me introduce you to my team," he continued.

"We were supposed to be your team," Tony Stark said. Wow, she thought he would be bigger. But then logically the Iron Man suit had to be bigger than him.

"Whatever gave you that impression, Mr. Stark?" Phil said, his eyebrows drawing together.

"You… you were…"

"This is Melinda May, our… pilot," he said. May nodded. "You were interested in meeting Skye, though, am I right?"

"Is she the hacker?"

"Yes."

"Then yeah." His eyes slid over theirs, and Skye gave a little wave. "She's a kid!"

Skye's smiled dimmed, and she narrowed her eyes. Oh dear.

"Says the guy who graduated from MIT when he was a _teenager_," she said. "You don't have the concession on skill around here. Fitz and Simmons are geniuses, for example."

"Hello," Jemma said politely, waving. Tony raised an eyebrow.

"Jemma Simmons?" he said.

"Yes, sir." He crossed his arms and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"JARVIS, take her down to the labs," he said. "Elevator's behind you, sweetheart."

"Uh… really?" she asked.

"This way, Dr. Simmons," the AI in the building said.

"Oh! Right. Well, good luck," she whispered to Skye, squeezing her hand on the way past. She half-smiled at Fitz, but his eyes were on Stark. With a small sigh, she entered the lift, and let JARVIS take her downstairs.

"I am sure you will find the research and development area of great interest," JARVIS said. Jemma looked at the ceiling.

"It must be excellent equipment," she said.

"Top of the range, designed by Mr. Stark himself."

When the doors opened, she stepped out. No matter how breath-taking the view, she remembered the manners which had been drummed into her since birth.

"Thank you, JARVIS," she said breathlessly.

"You are welcome, Dr. Simmons."

"Please, call me Jemma."

"I will program that response now, Dr. Simmons."

She smiled gleefully as she looked both ways, before scurrying into the nearest lab. It was pristine, of course; much better than the labs in some of the HYDRA cells they had infiltrated of late. She couldn't even bring herself to run a finger along the dustless surfaces, or touch any of the glass beakers.

Each lab seemed to be equipped to serve a specific scientist, the machines and other resources differing from one to the next. Her favourite brand of glassware was in the third lab she explored, her heart thumping faster than ever. Everything was beautiful and shiny, and _spacious_. If only they had this kind of room back home. The labs were fairly empty at the moment, but it was a public holiday; only devout workaholics would even think about working… although the laboratories here were so _exceptional_…

One lab had things out of place, and she realised why. A holographic computer screen hung above one of the desks, although the images were dimmed. There were also paper notes over one of the tables, pen scribbled over napkins and paper scraps and takeout menus. Someone like her, who could never wait to write down a theory, and then had to make sense of her hurried scrawl later on.

Pausing to look at one, she became peripherally aware of someone else in the room. It couldn't be Fitz, come to have a look. It was most likely whoever had made the notes. A bit embarrassed at having been caught peeking at their work, Jemma backed away quickly. Unfortunately, it was into a stool which hadn't been pushed in, and she yelped as she tried to fall away from the tables of chemicals…

Into a pair of arms.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry about that, I didn't mean to cause any trouble," she said, clutching onto her rescuer.

"It's all right, I shouldn't have left the chair out," he said as he steadied her on her feet.

And then it clicked. Her soulmark.

"Oh!" She looked up at him, and her breath caught. The most adorable brown eyes stared into hers, wide with astonishment. Jemma could understand the feeling, and refused to let go of his… rather muscular arms. She was so taken aback that it took her half a minute to recognise him. By that time he was half-smiling – sort of a Harrison Ford smile – and stroking a misplaced clump of hair back behind her ear.

"Hey," he said. "I always wondered what would prompt you to think you were causing me any hassle."

She bit her lower lip, trying to contain her feelings.

"You're Bruce Banner," she whispered.

"And you're Jemma Simmons. I was told you'd be coming down here. I had no idea you'd end up in my arms."

"Especially due to my clumsiness," she said. "Ugh, how embarrassing."

"Not at all," he said, chuckling. "I've been looking forward to meeting you, especially after that essay you wrote about me."

"I received top marks for that!" she said brightly. Then she realised how it sounded. "I now know how it must've felt for Director Coulson when he first met Captain America."

"Wow, that's flattering," he said, combing his fingers through his dishevelled hair.

"I was one of the co-founders of the Bruce Banner fan club at university," she said. "Along with my lab partner, Fitz."

"Leo Fitz? Then…" He laughed again. "I thought FitzSimmons was the name of the founder. I didn't realise it was Fitz _and_ Simmons."

"Oh no, people used to call us FitzSimmons. Not anymore, though." Her face fell, and Bruce cocked his head.

"I don't like to see my soulmate frowning like that," he said, tipping her chin up. "Smile for me?" She complied, although it felt odd, because at this angle and this close, she really just wanted to kiss him, which made smiling a bit more difficult. "That's better."

"You smile nicely as well," she said. "I like it. And your laugh."

"I don't laugh all that much," he admitted.

"I'll change that, don't you worry." It was her Determined Voice and Determined Face.

"I believe you." He glanced away, and smiled. "Want to see what I was working on? I think that, out of everyone here – excepting JARVIS – you're the one who would understand it the best."

"Must be why we're meant to be together," she said. A second later, she pulled out of his arms and rolled down one of her stockings. She raised her leg so that Bruce could read her words. He stroked his fingers along them, and she shivered, holding onto his shoulder to keep her balance.

"Mine are on my other leg," he said, and he rolled up a trouser leg. Jemma knelt down, reading the words of the mark between the hairs. Her handwriting had never been more wonderful to see.

"I can hardly believe this is happening," she said, shaking her hand as she stood up.

"You realise I'm about twenty years older than you."

"You realise that I still feel like the luckiest girl in the universe." She stepped into his embrace again. "I was always so sure that my soulmate would either not be able to keep up with me intellectually, or would be a bland fellow geek. Certainly not a recognised genius who's… cut like a diamond." She buried her blush in his purple shirt, trying her best not to feel up his abs. His hands rested lightly on the middle of her lower back.

"So you really don't care about the age difference?" he asked.

"Of course not!"

"And what about… my big, green problem?"

"Frankly?"

"I'm terrified of the answer, but yeah."

"I find the Hulk _fascinating_. Do you think he has a soulmark?"

"Yes," he said. "It's the same, but on his left thumb."

She cleared her throat delicately. "A few years ago, my soulmark burnt green, just briefly. I never told anyone because it seemed strange, and it only happened the once. It never quite left my mind, but there were no similar instances documented _anywhere_. I dismissed it as an anomaly, or something brought on by the stress of exams. Even a hallucination."

"But it was because of the Other Guy. I'm so sorry."

"Hey, hey." She touched his cheek. "It didn't last long. It's… quite exciting to have been part of a unique scientific eve—"

Bruce pressed his lips to hers, silencing her successfully.

* * *

"Right, JARVIS, take us downstairs," Tony said, in the elevator with Fitz, Mack, and Skye. "Better show the kids candyland before they burst."

"I am afraid Dr. Banner and Dr. Simmons are busy at the moment, sir. Perhaps you could start with the garage?"

"We'll stick to the other labs, I promise. We won't interrupt any sciencing going on."

"Sir… it is not exactly…"

Tony thumped his fist against the wall. "Breaking up there, buddy. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. But I can assure you that you would be better served going—"

"Okay, time for Daddy's override," Tony said, keying something into the panel. He hit the button for the research and development level. The elevator juddered for a second, and then continued its way down. The doors opened slowly, and Tony led them towards the lab where Bruce was supposed to be… working…

"That would explain why your AI wanted us to go see the cars instead," Mack said. He and Fitz tilted their heads simultaneously, getting a slightly better view of Jemma and Bruce entangled and semi-clothed, Jemma perched on a lab stool and Bruce plastered against her.

"Ooo-kay," Skye said, pushing the guys back towards the elevator. "Garage sounds good. Tech and science labs can wait, am I right?"

"They better disinfect afterwards," Tony grumbled. "I'm sure that's in violation of health and safety."

"Sir," JARVIS said, "you told everyone to ignore most of the health and safety codes in the pursuit of science. The phrase 'only a little mess' was employed. Miss Potts had rather a lot to say on the matter. Shall I play the footage—"

"Not necessary," Tony said through clenched teeth as the elevator doors slid shut again.

"If it is any consolation, sir—"

"Probably not."

"They are soulmates."

There was silence.

"Jemma found her soulmate! Oh my God, I _have_ to tell DC," Skye said, pulling out her cell phone.

* * *

**Taking a break between coming up with ideas based on ship requests. This was one of the first pairings I wanted to try. I should probably make them meet in the field sometime, not just have Jemma tripping over in the lab, but meh. More private this way. And clearly they needed that privacy right away. ;)**

**Title of chapter is a terrible pun.**

**Please review!**


	14. Let It Go (Phil x Sam)

**Note: This is canon-divergent in that the Avengers find Phil before he discovers the meaning of his carvings.**

"Let It Go"

"That asshole is still alive!" Tony said, angrily pushing away the screen.

"Who's still alive?" Clint asked, polishing his bow.

"Coulson."

There was a pause, and then a wall of noise as the rest of the Avengers leapt up and started shouting. Sam lowered his head into his hands, praying for strength, as well as protection from furious superheroes.

"Fury lied to us about that?" Steve said. "Y'know, I thought he'd gone about as far as he could go, but I was wrong."

"Fucking spies," Tony said, letting the others sift through the multitude of records he'd brought up. "A lot of it's hidden or deleted. But JARVIS can find him."

"Facial recognition software is bringing up security camera matches from all over the world, sir," JARVIS said. "There is no specific pattern." He showed them images, undeniably Phil Coulson. Sam stood beside Steve, wishing Rhodey or Pepper or Jane or _anyone_ else could be here to support him as the only sane man.

"Do you know where he is now?" Natasha asked.

"Pinpointing his current location."

"Let's get flying," Tony said. "Without Thor here, we're gonna have to make do with your puppy-dog eyes, Capsicle."

Following JARVIS's directions, Clint flew them in the cloaked jet to an area which looked uninhabited. But appearances could be deceptive, and as soon as they touched down there was an incoming transmission.

"State your business," a hard female voice said.

"Is that the cavalry?" Clint said.

"I thought _we_ were the cavalry," Bruce said, raising an eyebrow.

"No, Melinda May. Cavalry with a capital 'C'."

"Don't call me that, Barton," she said in reply. "State your business."

"We want a word with Agent Coulson," Tony said.

"There is no Agent Coulson here."

"We _know_ Phil Coulson is here!"

"Ah. Director Coulson is here. Can I take a message?"

"Yeah," Tony said, standing up. "Tell him we're coming in."

"Fine. Leave the plane where it is."

They got inside, and an Asian woman stopped them. As soon as she spoke, he recognised the voice.

"Wait here, and I'll see if he's available," she said.

"He isn't," a girl said, poking her head around a corner. "He's busy. You know, May. _Busy_." She made some kind of swirling motion with her hand, and May pursed her lips before turning back to them.

"You'll have to come back another day," she said. "Or not."

"We're not giving him the opportunity to hide from us," Steve said firmly. "Take us to him."

"You don't have authority over me, nor over the director of SHIELD."

"There _is_ no SHIELD," Clint said.

"There's a new one, and Coulson is in charge. Come back another day."

"Hey, sweetheart," Tony called to the girl, who was staring at them, open-mouthed. "Just take us to see the Wizard of Oz, or Bruce will get angry."

"You won't like me angry," Bruce said. May rolled her eyes.

"Don't talk to him," she said. "Just watch. He can't be interrupted when he's busy."

They followed her through what must have been the new SHIELD base. Or an old one, judging by the state of the walls. They crowded outside a room, where a man was feverishly carving lines and circles into a wall. Clint went to speak, but May clapped a hand over his mouth, and one over his arm.

"Don't," she whispered. "Just let him get it out of his system first."

"What the hell happened?" Natasha murmured.

"The procedure to bring him back to life involved using alien blood. He hasn't been the same since the operation, and it seems that this," she nodded towards the carving, "is related to whatever went into his body."

"How long was he dead?" Sam asked. May's expression faltered.

"Five days," she said. Bruce inhaled sharply.

"How?" he said. "That's impossible."

"I can ask Simmons to bring you the records, if we have anything left. I don't know whether the Other Guy would like it, though."

"Probably not," Bruce admitted. "It sounds inhuman."

"It took a toll on him. He wasn't allowed to tell you he was alive. The directorship… was given to him after SHIELD fell, when Fury asked Phil to build it up again. He hasn't had time to breathe. We don't have enough resources at our disposal, and then… this started. I was brought in to make sure he didn't lose his mind, and to put him down if he eventually went off the rails."

"At least he hasn't yet," Clint said. His arms were crossed, and his eyes never left Coulson.

"He's getting close," she said. "I can't take him down. It's… Phil." She closed her eyes, and for such a strong-looking woman to seem at the end of her tether, it must have been a hell of a strain. Sam risked touching her shoulder.

"Is there anything I can do?" he said. "I work with PTSD sufferers."

"You've got your work cut out for you with them," May said, half-smiling as she indicated the Avengers. Sam chuckled.

"Done," Coulson said. It was loud in the small, quiet room. He dropped the knife he'd been using, and staggered back a couple of steps. Despite May's advice, Sam moved past her into the room and approached the director. Before he got there, Coulson's knees trembled, and he would've crumpled to the floor if Sam hadn't caught him, keeping him upright.

"Hey, it's alright, man, you can let it go now," he said. "We're here to help."

Coulson shivered for a couple of seconds, and then settled.

"Thanks, but I'm thinking it's a bit late for that," he said weakly, and he smiled bitterly up at Sam. "Hello."

Thrown by this unexpected turn of events, Sam swallowed.

"I'm Sam Wilson," he said. "You're Coulson?"

"Call me Phil," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "It's done for now. Then tomorrow… it'll happen all over again." A tear slid down his cheek, but he didn't seem to notice it. Sam itched to wipe it away. Or maybe it was sweat? Coulson – okay, Phil – was pale and shaky, and his grip kept tightening and loosening on Sam's arm. He didn't look away from his carvings. "I don't know what it means."

"Do you wanna talk about it? I'm a great listener."

"I'm sure you're a great everything, and I've got no idea what I did to deserve you. But that doesn't matter right now." He gestured to the wall. "This. This matters. It holds the secrets, but I don't know what they are, or what the key _is_."

"We'll figure it out together, okay?"

Phil nodded, and finally turned towards Sam. "I'm tired."

"When did you last sleep?"

"What day is it?"

"You've been awake for forty-seven hours," May said. Phil blinked.

"Oh," he said.

"That does it, you're going to bed," Sam said firmly. He turned Phil towards the door. Phil froze when he saw the Avengers.

"Shit," he muttered. Tony, who still looked angry, although Sam wondered whether his anger had redirected itself towards the former director, opened his mouth. Phil held up a finger. "No. I am not dealing with you right now. All of you, go home and leave me the fuck alone, okay? I do not need you bringing your problems to me. I have an organisation to run—"

"Sleep first," Sam reminded him.

"And none of you take precedence over that. Get out, and don't come back until you have clearance."

"Can I stay, at least?"

"You're my soulmate, Sam. Of course you can stay."

If he wasn't so concerned about Phil's reaction to the Avengers, he would've felt sorry for them when they looked kind of hurt. But Sam's soulmate was clearly in a bad way, and needed his help and some sleep. He'd call the others in the morning, but it was getting late, and if the temporary madness was out of Phil's system, hopefully he'd sleep until morning.

"See you later," he told Steve, shepherding Phil away from them. "I'll talk to you in the morning."

Steve nodded dumbly, and Sam kept supporting Phil as they walked down the corridor together.

* * *

**And with the Avengers' help, maybe Trip won't be dusted! Yay!**

**Please review, folks! Came up with this idea and it just wouldn't let me go. Oops.**

**Extra points to whoever picked up the line from a Rodgers and Hammerstein musical. Hint: part of something a superhero said. Answer will be revealed in a future chapter.**


	15. Rock the World (Jemma x Johnny x Skye)

"Rock the World"

Johnny watched as the primary New SHIELD team arrived on the scene. One of the young women with long, dark hair crouched on the ground amid the fighting. He zoomed towards her, wondering why the hell Coulson's team seemed to be comprised of people with death wishes, when he noticed the nearby monsters stumble in place. A couple of cars squeaked, and Johnny felt the ground tremors before he even landed. Being close to her – it had to be the girl making the ground shake – he got it worse than the people who were far away.

Wisely, he flamed off elsewhere, burning up anyone who tried to aim a long-range weapon her way. With their help, battle was over pretty quickly. The real explosions happened when the Avengers showed up – half a minute too late to join in the fun – and saw Coulson. Did they seriously not know that he was alive?

"Not like he's been hiding it," the Thing said.

"We knew weeks before we officially met the team," Sue said.

"I wasn't there," Johnny said, holding up a hand.

"No, you were away," she said, frowning.

"Dirt bike competition!"

"Honestly, Johnny, you think you'd get enough kicks being a superhero!"

"Don't even," he said, pointing at her. He turned to Coulson. "Kid makin' the ground shake. What's her name? I think she's still there."

"Skye checked in a minute ago," an English girl told Coulson. "She's just making sure there are no aftershocks."

"I'll go keep her company," Johnny said. Before anyone could stop him, he was flying back the way he came.

She had stood up, and was walking back to join the others when Johnny dropped onto the ground a couple of feet in front of her. She jumped, and he gave her a winning grin.

"Wanna rock the world with me, sweetheart?" he said.

Her eyes narrowed, and Johnny braced himself to duck.

"That was the last thing I needed, _ever_," she said. And she side-stepped him. It took a minute for Johnny to get with the program. Then he was running after her.

"It's Skye, right?" he said. "Your name?"

"Who wants to know? Oh, right. Johnny Storm. The Human Torch, notorious playboy, part of the Fantastic Four, and apparently my soulmate."

"That I am," he said proudly. "Kind of relieved. A second soulmark only just showed up—"

"My powers were unlocked a few months ago," she said, interrupting him. "I had to be reborn for that to happen."

"So my soulmate isn't three months old! Sweet! It would've been a hell of a wait."

"By all accounts, you'd know how to occupy yourself in the meantime," she said, raising an eyebrow as he continued to walked beside her, easily matching her quick strides.

"I could occupy you all day, Skye," he said. "Want me to prove it to you?"

"About as much as I want you to 'rock the world with me, sweetheart'," she said.

Seeing that he was getting nowhere, Johnny changed tacks.

"Do you know who our third is?" he asked. "Or do we have different second soulmates?"

"You tell me!" she said. "Do you already have one?"

"Nope."

"Because I do, and it's not exactly platonic between us."

"Uh-huh?" He dogged her steps until they returned to the group. Sue's frown stopped him in place. But when the Brit and Skye embraced with undisguised passion, his jaw dropped and his brain turned inside out.

That was so freakin' hot.

"Johnny, stop staring," Ben grumbled. Johnny shook his head.

"Kind of physically impossible," he said. Then one of Reed's hands shot over to him, and yanked Johnny around. "Hey! I'm perfectly within my rights."

"You're really not," Reed said, pulling Johnny back over to them. He muttered something to himself as he went, trying to crane his neck to look back at the two girls.

"So, are they done being unreasonable?" Johnny said, indicating the Avengers. Coulson was red-faced, though his lips were white. He looked about ready to explode, and not in a good way. "`Cause we found out through that info dump – thanks, Romanov – so why didn't you pick up on it? Stupid to think you'd been lied to when the information was there."

"Moving on," Agent May said, looking at Coulson. He cleared his throat, but the Brit broke away from Skye and walked over to Johnny. She held out her hand, and he shook it, surprised but pleased.

"Thank you for accompanying her," she said.

"No problem," he said, and he grinned. "What's your name, cute stuff?"

She blushed. "Jemma Simmons."

"Jemma with a 'j'?"

"Yes."

"Sweet! We have the same initials."

"Indeed."

"So it's true," Skye said, and she sighed as she stood beside Jemma. Johnny finally let go of her hand, even though he liked how delicate and cool it was. Felt so small in his hand.

"What's true?" Coulson said, glaring at Johnny suspiciously.

"I felt it was best to study in America," Jemma said, which seemed an obscure way to continue the conversation. Until, "I was more likely to find someone who'd say 'I'll go keep her company'. Back in England, we would say 'I'll go _and_ keep her company'."

"Huh. Yeah, I guess I did say those words to you, didn't I?"

"Wait, are you soulmates?" Sue said. Johnny beamed at her, and nodded.

"All three of us," he declared.

"God help me," Coulson muttered.

* * *

They were given leave to go to a diner. Skye and Jemma sat beside each other, hands clasped on the tabletop, while Johnny sat opposite. The Human Torch, who Jemma would have loved to study, and could definitely swoon over. She and Skye were fairly certain their third would be a man, and that they would share him. In the meantime, they'd built their non-platonic relationship since their connection emerged.

Jemma rubbed her thumb along the skin of Skye's hand while they waited for their drinks.

"How long have you guys been together?" Johnny asked.

"We've been friends since soon after we met," Jemma said when Skye didn't reply. "It wasn't until our words finally appeared that we became more than just good friends. Life's too short not to at least try, we decided, and the feelings were already there."

"It was when I heard that you were undercover at HYDRA," Skye said, not looking at Jemma. "I wanted to be holding you, making sure you were okay, but I couldn't. When Coulson looked like he was willing to let you get hurt to stop me from meeting my father, I could've killed him myself. I decided that if you got back to us safely, I wasn't going to waste any more time."

"I was safe," Jemma said when Johnny stared at her with horror. "Of course, I didn't know quite how safe I was, but it turns out that the head of security was working for Coulson, and she saved my life."

"When I asked him, DC said that if he didn't have someone watching out for you, he would've accepted Raina's terms, then dealt with her," Skye said. "I think… he was glad to get you out from undercover. I think he wanted you back as soon as possible."

"He did bring me food."

"I think you both have a lot to tell me," Johnny said, frowning at them. "You being in trouble? I don't like that."

"You don't even know us," Skye said.

"I don't have to. You're my soulmates. And, hell, it sounds like you've gone through so much that… I wanna take you away from the danger. Even just for a little while. Give you a well-deserved holiday."

"Would there be two bedrooms on this holiday?" Skye asked dryly. Jemma's smile turned wicked as Johnny gulped.

"It could," he said. "Entirely up to you. I'll even let you do the bookings."

"We're not really going to do it, are we?" Jemma said, looking from one to the other.

"Yes," Johnny said.

"No," Skye said at the same time.

"Well, that was definite," Jemma remarked.

"We can't take the time away," Skye said.

"I'm sure Coulson will spare you for a weekend," Johnny said. "Let me take you somewhere, anywhere. We could go to England and meet your parents, Jemma. You… you do still have—"

"Yes, yes," she said. "Both alive."

"My dad's alive, but he's a psycho and a monster," Skye said. "And my mom was… special. Dead now."

"Who killed her?"

"A man who's also dead now."

"Pity. I would've liked to—"

"So would I, and I can take care of myself," Skye said. "As you've seen."

"I've seen you make the earth move, sweetheart."

"And you want to make the earth move with her," Jemma said, smirking at Johnny's expression.

"You… you've seen her words," he said, his eyes flicking towards Skye. "Yeah, because I'm not gonna be thinking about that all night long."

"Pervert," Skye said.

"I'm a man, and you two are extremely pretty. And beautiful. And sexy. And—"

"We get the picture," Jemma said, blushing.

"I'd be happy to paint a prettier one with you."

"That's… the weirdest analogy I've ever heard," Skye said.

"Hey, at least I steered clear of fire for once. I could've said you were hot, or smoking, or—"

"Never scorching," Jemma said. "We had to fight someone with fire powers once—"

"Sort of my fault," Skye said.

"Skye, _no_. It was your boyfriend's fault, not yours. You helped us find him."

"So… no scorch," Johnny said.

"That's right," Jemma said.

"I'll try to remember that."

"Let's be honest here," Skye said, "because I'm sick of lies and secrets. You want to sleep with us, don't you?"

Johnny arched an eyebrow. "You're my soulmates, and I'm attracted to both of you. I'll keep it platonic if you want me to, but it's gonna be damn hard when I'm thinking all kinds of inappropriate things about what we could be doing together."

Jemma and Skye looked at each other.

"We… had hoped our third would be a man," Jemma confessed.

"But men have failed me in the past," Skye said.

"Coulson hasn't, and Fitz hasn't," Johnny said.

"Yeah, but I don't want to sleep with either of them."

"Fitz had feelings for me," Jemma said. "But then he met his soulmate, and they faded because he found something real and mutual."

"Which you two have, with each other," Johnny said slowly.

"You're… you're part of a team, and we're part of a different team."

"Hold on a second." He held up his hands. "It's not a case of 'never the twain will meet'. We're all on the same side. You're just covert, and I'm definitely… not the covert type, to be honest. But hey, if you wanna join my team—"

"Not possible," Skye said. "We're needed with SHIELD."

"Then I'll join you. I can fly. A plane as well." He winked. "Sure you don't want a super on your team?"

"Won't your family miss you?" Jemma said.

Johnny sighed. "If you don't want me, just say so. I'm a big boy. I can take it. Like you said, I know how to find someone else." He shrugged. "Could only be second best, but I'll survive."

Skye paused. "Look, we don't know you. It's hard to trust someone new after…"

"I understand."

"Not really," Jemma said. "Someone close to us turned out to work for HYDRA. He saved my life once…"

"And I kissed him," Skye whispered. Johnny covered their entwined hands with his own.

"I would _never_ betray either of you like that," he said. "I'm your _soulmate_. We can just be friends if you want, but I'll always have your back, and you'll always come first to me. You need me at your side, I'll be there. I protect the things, the people I care about."

"You don't want anything from us, at all?" Skye said. He arched an eyebrow.

"Of course I do," he said. "I'm a man, and I would've hit on both of you anyway. Did hit on you, technically. But I'm not asking for anything except to be there for you when you need me."

"And what about when you need us?" Jemma asked. Johnny smiled ruefully.

"I haven't so far," he said. "I'm usually able to get what I need. You're the ones with targets drawn on your backs and scraping by on whatever Coulson can get together. I'm the one living in a swanky, secure building, and I don't have HYDRA gunning for me."

Neither Jemma nor Skye spoke for a minute. Eventually, Johnny grabbed a pencil stub and a serviette, and scribbled something down.

"Look, just… if you need anything, here's my number. It's a secure line." He pushed it across the table to them. "Anything at all. Especially if there's a fight and you need a bit of my brand of firepower." He half-smiled. "Try to stay out of trouble."

* * *

Johnny was walking down the street, disappointed that he hadn't even wrangled a date out of his soulmates, when he felt his phone ring. Figuring it was Sue asking if he was ready yet, he fished it out of his pocket, hit the answer button, and held the cell phone to his ear.

"I'm on my way back to the Baxter," he said.

"Oh good," an English voice said. He stopped in his tracks.

"Jemma? Shit, don't tell me you're in trouble already."

"We were thinking," Skye said, joining the conversation.

"About what you look like," Jemma said.

"Without any clothes on," Skye added. Johnny sucked in a breath.

"Uh-huh?" he said. Really, like he could be any more eloquent than that at this moment.

"And especially with one of us on each side of you."

"You… really shouldn't be talking like that when I'm on a public sidewalk in broad daylight," he muttered, trying to keep his lips pretty still. Good thing he'd put clothes on over the top of his blue suit.

"Why not?" He heard the beep of the call disconnecting, and scowled down at his phone. Skye continued talking… right behind him. "We're on a public sidewalk in broad daylight, too."

He turned gradually, and looked at them. Skye was smirking, and Jemma was half-hiding behind her, pink blossoming on her cheeks.

"Yeah, but any reactions you have will be less… noticeable," he said.

"Wouldn't be so sure of that," Jemma said, fiddling with her hair.

"How far is it to your place?" Skye asked, cocking her head as she approached him. Jemma trailed her, and they each linked an elbow with him.

"Not… not far. We can take a cab."

"Lead on, then, if you think we'll all fit in your bed," Jemma said. Skye continued to smile smugly, and Johnny wondered how the hell he'd wound up this lucky.

* * *

**You must've done something good in a previous life, Johnny. Or done enough good in this one. (And how often will I get the chance to use the phrase 'undisguised passion'?)**

**Please review, all! My first F-F-M triad, if I remember rightly, which is debatable.**


	16. Tell Me (Bucky x Clint x Phil)

"Tell Me"

_2012_

'Would you like to come with me, Mister Barton?' was on Clint's skin. 'Gladly, soon as we're dressed more comfortably' was on _his_.

Clint knew that Phil was alive. His mark had turned grey for a few days, and Clint had mourned losing his soulmate. But then the mark returned to black, and he just _knew_ that Phil was somehow alive again. The words were the same, the writing unchanged. He had lost his level status at SHIELD temporarily, and he couldn't find any records. He and Phil had kept their relationship platonic for practical reasons, and never recorded it anywhere, let alone bonded. It was too dangerous in their line of work. They kept their soulmarks covered, and…

And Clint really wished that he'd pushed for a bond. Then he could've found Phil. But instead he waited, hoping that Phil would choose to contact him.

In the meantime, he would wait for his other soulmate, the one who could've taken his mind off Phil, maybe even convinced him to allow a three-way bond. As with all good things in Clint's life, however, he would have a long wait.

* * *

_2015_

It was better to ignore Stark's invitations to live in his tower. Sure, it'd be more comfortable than surviving on the streets, but Clint had done it before. He hadn't really bonded with his other team-mates last time – Natasha didn't count; she was already like a sister to him – and he worked best with minimal partners. Stark Tower was conspicuous, and he needed to keep away. HYDRA had eyes out for him; he was notoriously loyal to Phil and Natasha, and since they weren't HYDRA, that meant that Clint sure as hell wasn't. Like he'd have any interest in being one of those bastards.

So he kept on the down-low, maintaining the minimum contact required to keep Natasha Romanov happy, and keeping his ear to the ground for any news of Phil. She hadn't heard anything, and the relevant documentation had gone missing soon after she made SHIELD records public. Someone had jumped onto it quickly enough, and Stark hadn't made copies of any of the files before they disappeared.

Clint had dyed his hair and grown a beard. He was just glad his bow folded down into a compact case, kept in the single backpack he took around the city to make people think that was all he had. It was close enough to the truth, his hidey-hole a small one.

He was nearing it when someone burst out of the darkness which, what, how was that even possible? Clint was never _not_ alert! He was slammed against the side of a metal fire escape, and grunted. He reached out, ready to retaliate, when his right hand came in contact with a metal arm, and he noticed his attacker's face.

"I shot you once."

"Clearly it didn't stick," Clint replied. Please let Barnes have remembered his soulmark, and what it meant…

His eyes widened. "Those words…"

"Are tattooed on you somewhere? Yours are here." He raised his shirt and showed off the four words twining around his side, just below the scar from a glancing bullet wound.

"Where I shot you?" Barnes asked, tracing the words. Clint shivered; it wasn't even the cold metal hand.

"Probably," he said. "That'd be about right. I've been shot a lot, but that's the first time anyone's actually said those words to me."

"Do you have others?"

"I have a second soulmark, yeah. He's… I don't know whether he's dead or alive, because the words went grey for nearly a week, but they're black now."

"I cannot remember whether mine—"

"Wouldn't be surprised," Clint said. "Mind backing off a couple of steps? Kind of an awkward angle for my neck here."

"Of course." Barnes moved back, and his eyes widened. "I hurt you."

"Not the first time, but hey, not like you meant to." He stuck out his hand. "Clint Barton. Former SHIELD agent. Actual SHIELD, not HYDRA."

"Good."

"And you're Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier."

"I hate that name."

"Uh… which one?"

"Call me Barnes."

"Not James?" He shook his head. "Okay, Barnes. Come back to my place? I can tell you about our third. And _you_ can tell me what was with the ambush. Did someone send you or something?"

"I recognised you from the information. I am trying to weed out all of HYDRA."

Clint slung an arm around his waist, and was relieved that Barnes allowed it. "If Phil is alive, I'll bet he's doing the same. Meanwhile, how d'you feel about hiding out in the country? I've been looking at this farm…"

Barnes frowned as Clint continued to steer him back to the safe place. "You're not pushing me to go to… Steve?"

"I'm gonna try my hardest only to do what you think is best. Unless I think the plan's crap, in which case I'm gonna say so."

* * *

It was one of those days. Phil spilt coffee on the tie he was planning to wear with his favourite shirt; he'd burnt his toast as a consequence, and had to change clothes between bites of blackened bread with nothing on it. It turned out the female members of the team were all having women's problems at the same time, which meant a sullen silent May, a snappish Simmons, and a sulky Skye. Mack was pestering him again to be able to work on Lola, and Fitz was looking more hangdog than usual while his boyfriend obsessed over Phil's car.

Those were the good parts of the day. The bad happened when they had to make an emergency trip to Harlem.

"No Hulk this time," Phil said, pushing his shades further up his nose. "Hopefully we'll leave the place fairly intact."

"Got it," Skye said. "No quakes."

"But we need Quake, as always."

"Gee, thanks."

Why people thought that menstruation only affected women, Phil never knew. It made Skye nearly impossible to work with. On the plus side, May was fiercer, and Simmons had actually scared a couple of people into being even more productive than usual. That one of them came crying to him lessened the positive effect. When one of the Koenigs came crying to him as well, that made Phil's day a tiny bit worse.

Children, all of them. Except May. And possibly Fitz, who sometimes did an excellent impression of a fussy old man.

"Comms on," Phil said. "Let's get going."

* * *

There was gunfire. As soon as funny things started showing up on the radar, JARVIS had alerted the others, and a call to assemble was sent out. Clint received it, and dragged Barnes along with him.

"Observe from the shadows if you want," he said. "But I'm needed, and you don't like being apart from me." Barnes shook his head. "Hey, if you can hide from me, you can hide from almost anyone."

"I will stay silent until I'm needed."

First thing that Clint noticed when he arrived before the rest of the Avengers? He noticed Melinda May.

"The hell are you doing here?" he said, joining her in beating up a group of stiffs.

"Could ask you the same question," she said.

"Didn't you hear? I only get invited to the best parties."

"You've missed some pretty great parties, then," she replied. She stayed silent as they continued around the site, taking down some familiar faces. Sometimes Clint thought that mythology was right; cut off one head, two more grow in its place. Shit, it seemed never-ending, the number of HYDRA agents.

But they weren't all HYDRA. Some wore army greens, which was just wrong. But they were clearly on the wrong side, so Clint forced himself to take them down. Chances were they'd been brainwashed, so he kept it to knocking them out and tying them up. But HYDRA and ex-SHIELD? They were dead, and he was gonna make sure of it.

* * *

Phil saw Clint, and it was Fitz who had to save him from being beheaded.

"Sir!"

"I'm okay. Thanks, Fitz. Let's just get you to that bomb, okay?"

"Sir, you're needed out there," Mack said. "I'll get Turbo to the IED. May's been training me up—"

"Okay. Go ahead. I'll cover your backs from here."

"Get going down there, sir," Fitz said, gesturing to the courtyard.

"Not until I know you're relatively safe. You and Mack are the only ones who can disable the remaining bomb."

Rolling his eyes, Fitz led Mack through the building until they were out of sight, following the path that Simmons was relaying on the comms. Once Phil was fairly certain of their safety, he leapt down the stairs to join his team on the ground. He'd lost sight of Clint again, and had to force his mind back to the fight or else risk losing his head. Some of these guys fought with bayonets, and he almost wished he could afford Wade Wilson.

_Almost_.

"We've got incoming," Skye said over the comms. "Avengers in t-minus twenty seconds."

"Hawkeye's already here," Phil said through gritted teeth. "Saw him about five minutes ago."

"Is that why you nearly died?" Fitz asked.

"Can't say I blame you for being distracted. I mean, those _arms_…"

"Yes, Skye, we all know about Clint's arms," Phil said. Not that he had many memories of them, not the kind of memories he would've liked.

"Do you want to take cover?" May said.

"More important things to do."

He beat off another couple of assailants, making for gardening implements left by whoever had been working on the topiary. The hose was dripping a bit of water, so that could help. The shears looked sharp. There was… there was a motorised hedge trimmer.

"Result," he murmured, picking it up. He pulled the cord, and the machine roared to life.

Unfortunately, while it had its uses, it was also damn noisy. By the time the Avengers arrived, Phil had his hands more full than before. He soon found himself with the Black Widow fighting alongside him.

"You'll explain later," she said sharply.

"Clint's been here awhile. Where were the rest of you?"

"He's here?"

"You haven't seen him?"

"Not in months."

Phil swore, abandoning the hedge trimmer when it ran out of fuel. With Bruce Banner joining Fitz and Mack to dismantle the explosive device, and with the others on ground or in the sky, it was finished pretty quickly. Phil knew he should've contacted them before, but Stark had very publicly cut ties with SHIELD after HYDRA was exposed. They wouldn't have liked being lied to, and Clint's mark was probably gone, so it was just easier…

He sighed, and went to meet up with his team.

"Coulson."

"Shit. Bakshi."

Their former prisoner ran out at Phil. He dodged the attack, and heard a shout in the distance, along with May calling for his location.

Something sped from the side, ramming into Bakshi and tackling him to the ground. There was a sickening crunch and Bakshi's head was at a horrific angle. Nothing Phil hadn't seen before, but it'd happened a lot faster than normal, and he stared as the Winter Soldier got to his feet and faced Phil.

"Thanks for having my back there," he said, straightening his tie.

"The least I could do for someone who means so much to him," the soldier said. Phil's heart damn near stopped.

"What?" he said.

"You're Phil Coulson." He held out a hand, and Phil shook it dazedly. "I'm James Barnes, but I prefer Barnes."

"Whatever you like," Phil said. He went to disconnect his comm. unit, when something barrelled into his side.

"You asshole!"

Then he had his arms full of archer, who was also attached to his mouth. Phil couldn't deny himself a taste of what he'd always wanted, and let Clint kiss him for a minute.

"You should've called soon as you could," Clint mumbled into his mouth.

"I thought it didn't matter. I thought your mark would've disappeared."

"Just faded for a few days. Please tell me you weren't actually dead those few days."

Phil looked away. "I can't do that."

Barnes cleared his throat, and Phil looked up at him as he moved closer.

"The three of us are soulmates," he said. Phil blinked.

"So we are," he said, letting Clint go. "I've… that was the first time we've—"

"I know. Clint's told me all about you."

"Bucky?" Steve said, staring at him as he jogged up to them.

"I prefer Barnes," he repeated.

"DC, what's going on?"

"Won't be long, Skye," Phil said. "We have to debrief."

"Only wanna debrief with you and Barnes," Clint said with a leer. Phil arched an eyebrow.

"Since we were all involved in the battle, that would be highly illogical," he said.

"Not the kinda debrief I had in mind."

"If it would not be moving too fast for you," Barnes said, looking at Phil from beneath his eyelashes. The classic doe-eyed look. Extremely unfair.

"Later," he said. "I need something to eat and drink before I have the energy to even think about that."

* * *

**I'm just saying. RIP Leonard Nimoy.**

**Okay, I'll give you the answer now. A couple of chapters ago, Steve said that Fury 'had gone about as far as he could go', which is a reference to "Kansas City" from the musical **_**Oklahoma**_**. "Everythin's up-to-date in Kansas City. They've gone about as fer as they can go…" Hugh Jackman has been in **_**Oklahoma**_**, so Wolverine, and there's a clip on Youtube somewhere of RDJ singing a bit from "Kansas City" (and dancing), so Iron Man.**

**Please review, everyone! Ship requested by Jenjenjennifer.**


	17. Pretend to Die (Bucky x Jemma x Steve)

**Note: Canon-divergent in that Simmons' cover wasn't blown, so she's been Phil's inside girl for a lot longer.**

"Pretend to Die"

Jemma knew it was dicey, going undercover at HYDRA when she wasn't a trained field agent. She did as Coulson asked, though, because… well, it was _Coulson_, and she couldn't handle Fitz at the moment, and she blamed herself for it, and… In other words, she'd thought this to be a perfectly sensible, if foolhardy, idea.

And then the base came under attack from the Avengers.

Now more than just the original six, with the Falcon, the Winter Soldier, War Machine when he was available, and even Thor's Asgardian friends when they happened to be around. Jemma didn't know whether Sif was with them, and whether or not it would be better if she was. On the one hand, did the woman know anything about subtlety? Would she accuse Jemma of betraying the team, thus exposing her? Would she attack first, ask questions later?

Although, judging by the ferocity of the attack, none of them were supposed to be getting out alive.

She broke protocol sending out a panicked message to Skye. There was no point in maintaining the pretence anymore; it seemed she was going to die today, whether HYDRA thought she was on their side or not.

"Everyone, on your knees!" the Winter Soldier barked as he stormed into the room, automatic weapon in his hands. Jemma knelt beside her desk obediently, wondering whether she could get out of this by playing dead, or at least by hiding. But what if the whole building was blown to kingdom come?

At least the last thing she'd said to her parents was that she loved them. That was how she ended every conversation with them, just in case.

The Winter Soldier – no one dared call him Bucky Barnes – was promising a swift death to all the scientists loyal to HYDRA. After all, the rot in SHIELD had started with the science division, so it was better to get that out of the way first.

"Bucky, get a move on!" someone called from outside.

"Gimme a minute, ya punk!" he called back. "I wanna savour this." The other voice was probably Captain America, then. Jemma nearly squeaked when the Winter Soldier stopped beside her as he finished his speech.

Then his hand shot out, and he grasped her by the hair. Well, it was loose, and it was long; far more dramatic than any of her short-haired colleagues nearby.

"To make an example of you all," he said, and he tipped her chin up with the end of the gun's barrel. The others flinched back, a couple crying out and covering their faces. She met his eyes and felt a flare of irritation.

"The way my day is going, this was bound to happen," she muttered.

There wasn't much of a change to his expression; only a slight twitch at the corner of one eye, and his mouth tightened a little. His eyes flicked side to side, and then he moved the gun so that the barrel of it rested against the side of her head.

"Play dead, and make it convincing," he murmured.

Her eyes widened, and she mouthed '_What_?' The gun brushed against her ear.

"For peace, freedom, and liberty," the Winter Soldier said.

Then he moved the gun away from her head and fired.

Jemma gasped at the loud noise, and her body sagged when he let go of her hair. Her head bumped against the bottom of her desk on the way down, and she stayed as still as she could on the floor, her ears ringing. She could faintly hear more screams, cries of her names, even a few people begging for her to be alive. If they weren't the enemy, she might have felt touched by their concern for her. As it was, she couldn't humanise them, or it would make it more difficult to think about their impending deaths, and she certainly couldn't bring herself to mourn anyone from HYDRA.

Except her soulmate, but then he was a weapon, not an autonomous agent.

There were more fires, and someone else ran in to help the Winter Soldier. The floor was stained with growing pools of blood, and it seemed that Jemma was the only one left alive. She peeked up at the Winter Soldier, who scowled at her.

"You're only breathing because you're my soulmate," he said, and he offered her a hand. She winced as she stood up, and knew she'd have a few bruises. Nothing to complain about, in the long run.

"Wait a moment," she said, and she turned to her computer. She saved her work every half a minute, so her portable storage device was up-to-date. She removed it from the computer, stuffed it down her bra, and then let the Winter Soldier lead her out of the lab.

As far as she knew, none of the Avengers were yet aware of Coulson being alive, so she kept her mouth shut. She would have gone for her phone, but it didn't seem like a wise move, not with the Black Widow behind them. No doubt she had already catalogued anything threatening about Jemma, and was perfectly ready to strike if she made a wrong move.

So. No pressure.

It seemed that the fighting was over by the time they left the building. Captain America ran over to them. He said something, but Jemma was still having a hard time hearing. When he looked at her and spoke, she wished she knew how to read lips.

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you at the moment," she said loudly, pointing to her left ear. He moved closer.

"Do you have information for us?" he repeated. At least she heard him this time.

"Not for you, no," she said. Then she paused, and he looked equally stunned. The Winter Soldier's grip on her arm tightened for a moment.

"That's why she's alive," he said. Jemma's hearing was improving, then. "She does have information."

"Our soulmate works for _HYDRA_?" Captain America said, looking disgusted. She couldn't blame them.

Before she could correct this misunderstanding, a car pulled up. She didn't recognise the woman who climbed out of one side… actually, she did. It was the head of security who'd been investigating the mole a few months ago. She tensed. And then… May was with her? Jemma noticed Hawkeye on her other side, jaw dropping.

"Mockingbird and the Cavalry?" he said.

"What?" she said, looking at him.

"Bobbi Morse and—"

"I thought she was head of security for HYDRA!"

"Not quite," Morse said, reaching them. Jemma couldn't help smiling widely at May, who half-smiled back.

"You all right, Simmons?" she said.

"So much better, now that you're here," she said.

"You know her?" Hawkeye said, jerking a thumb towards Jemma.

"Simmons has been working undercover for us. Agent Morse was there to protect her."

"Really?" Jemma said. "I had no idea." She beamed. "Lovely to meet you, Agent Morse."

"You, too," she said. "Officially, this time. Or should that be unofficially?"

"I don't really care. At least I don't have to pretend anymore."

"Everyone in there is dead," Captain America said, indicating the building behind them. "Let's demolish it. Where's Iron Man?"

"Do you have intel?" May said. Jemma stuck her free hand down her shirt and pulled out the storage drive.

"Here you are," she said. "Everything I was able to get. Please." She looked up at Captain America. "Please destroy the place. The experiments… their plans…" She trembled, and looked at May. "I did my best—"

"You did excellent work. Good thing you contacted Skye."

"I thought the end was near; there didn't seem to be any point in keeping secrets. I just wanted to say goodbye."

She felt the same constriction around her arm again, and looked at the Winter Soldier, who seemed paler than before.

"You're lucky," he said. "If she wasn't our soulmate, she'd be dead, and the information would be gone."

"Soulmate?" For the first time since they'd met, Jemma saw that May seemed genuinely rattled.

"Let's get you back to base," Morse said.

"But… she's coming with us," Captain America said, frowning. "You've got your information—"

"Simmons means more to us than information," May snapped, and Jemma couldn't help smiling.

"She's our soulmate!"

"I'd…" Jemma trailed off when all eyes turned to her. "I'd much rather return to my team, thank you all the same." She tugged at her arm gently, and the Winter Soldier let go. "It's been so long since I've seen them… I'm sure a great deal has happened."

"It has," May said, and she glanced at Morse, before returning her attention to Jemma. "Come on. Your job here is done. Let's get you _home_."

"That would be lovely," Jemma said, drifting away from the Avengers and pressing in to May's side. She was surprised to realise that if she could have picked anyone to swoop in and save her like that, it would be the Cavalry. "How's Fitz?"

"You'll see him when we get there…"

* * *

Bucky swallowed as his second soulmate walked away with other people, only minutes after he'd found her, and after she'd met Steve and confirmed that it was a true triad, talking about another man. He looked at Steve, who seemed as stricken as he felt.

"I almost blew her head off," Bucky said. He dropped his gun. "I… I almost killed our—"

"You were never going to," Steve said. "We had to say the words to each other."

"Thank God she's not HYDRA," Clint said. "Dodged a bullet there."

"Maybe not the best turn of phrase you could've used, under the circumstances," Steve said, slinging an arm around Bucky's shoulders. "We'll find her."

"I already attached a tracking device when I flew over their vehicle on the way here," Tony said, sounding smug through the mask. "It'll be easy to find them."

Turned out that it wasn't so easy. Something had started to scramble the tracking as soon as the car began to move. Cameras along the way had bits of footage missing, and it seemed like the car itself went completely off the grid, along with the people inside.

"You're saying we'll never find her again," Steve said, seated beside Bucky on the sofa in their quarters.

"Not necessarily, Captain Rogers," JARVIS said. "I have mapped out the pattern of the security cameras which were affected, which may provide a clue."

"It could've been a diversion," Bucky pointed out.

"The vehicle in question has not appeared anywhere else, not even on the journey to the HYDRA base. It seems to have come out of nowhere."

"Cloaking device?" Clint said, poking his head out of the vent. Bucky scowled up at him, but Clint just grinned back.

"Possibly, Mr. Barton." He paused. "May I suggest something, sirs?"

"Anything," Steve said.

"There is a call coming through for you, although I have no idea how she found the number."

"She? Is it her?"

"Would you like to answer it, sir?"

"Yes!"

On the screen in front of them appeared the same young woman from before. Bucky had remembered the name the others were screaming: Jemma. Jemma Simmons. Her SHIELD record had disappeared somehow, but Bruce had recalled reading some of the articles she had written while she was studying for her doctorates. _Two of them_.

"Hello," she said primly, giving a little wave.

"I'm sorry about before," Bucky said. "Nearly shooting you 'n' all."

"You sure know how to make an impression on a girl, Barnes," Clint said, and Bucky flipped him off. Jemma cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry as well," she said. "I shouldn't have run off like that, but you're strangers to me, and I wanted to see my friends. I also had to make my report to Co— to my boss."

"Who is your boss?" Clint asked.

"Clint, go away!" Steve hissed. "This is our call."

"It's me or Tony, Cap."

"I would still like to talk to you," Jemma said. Bucky couldn't take his eyes off her. She was gorgeous, and she had the kind of accent that drove Steve wild. Bucky too, for that matter. She had lovely long hair that he wanted to curl up in his hand, for an entirely different reason to earlier that day when he'd – shit – nearly killed her. His other soulmate.

"Anytime you want, sweetheart," Bucky said.

"Well, not _anytime_, of course," she said, dipping her head and brushing some of her hair back behind her ear. Bucky itched with wanting to touch it.

"You could come stay here for awhile," Steve said. "I'm sure Tony won't mind. Bring your friends."

"That's…" She averted her eyes. "That's not entirely appropriate."

"We wouldn't try anything, I promise. No rushing. But we've been waiting for you."

"You've been waiting a lot longer than us," Bucky said. "I wasn't in my right mind—"

"No, no, I understand," she said quickly.

"We'd like to meet your friends," Steve said. "And your family."

"My parents are… overseas."

"England?"

"Classified," she said apologetically.

"Or we could come visit you," Bucky said. "Please?"

"I'm not sure my boss—"

"Let us talk to him," Steve said. "Or her."

"I don't think—"

"Jemma, who are you talking to?" a voice said in the background. She looked away from the screen. Clint cursed, disappeared into the vents, and then jumped down out of them feet-first.

"My, uh, my soulmates, sir," Jemma said. "And one of their friends."

"Coulson?" Clint barked. Steve's jaw dropped.

"What?" he said. Bucky frowned.

"Isn't he the guy who…?"

There was a sigh. Jemma had her head buried in her hands, and a man moved into the picture behind her. Bucky didn't recognise him, but the others seemed to. Steve leapt to his feet, and Clint began shouting. When it looked like Jemma was about to run off, he jumped in front of them.

"Save it!" he shouted. When Clint and Steve shut up, he looked over his shoulder. "It's probably better that we all meet up sometimes. This is our call with Jemma."

"Understood," Coulson said, nodding shortly. "I'll arrange something with Maria."

"Hill knows?" Clint said. Bucky scowled at him fiercely.

"Not the time," he growled. Clint frowned, but held up his hands in a surrendering motion.

"You can get my number," he said, pointing at Coulson. "Call. Me."

Coulson nodded again, and began to leave. He paused by Jemma, touching her shoulder.

"Be careful," he said softly. She put her hand over his, and Bucky's hackles rose with jealousy.

"I will," she said.

"We just got you back."

"Thank you for sending Agent Morse in, sir."

"We'd hate to lose you."

She smiled up at him. "I'm sure I'll be safe with them."

He didn't look entirely happy, but finally left them alone, and Bucky and Steve sat back down.

"I shouldn't stay on too long," Jemma said. "It's a fairly secure channel, but every secure channel still has its weakness, and we have to be careful with HYDRA after us."

"We'll protect you," Steve said.

"I have people at my back," she said indignantly. "And I'm perfectly capable. I was there for _months_, with no undercover training, and my cover stayed intact. I met Whitehall himself, and he was convinced. If he wasn't, he certainly didn't give any indication."

"But you're our girl," Bucky said. "Or… we want you to be, anyway."

She turned pink. "That sounds lovely. I'm a very lucky girl."

"_You're_ lucky?" Steve said, boggle-eyed. "We're the lucky ones here. Bruce has told us how much he admires you—"

"Bruce?" she said. "Bruce _Banner_? He _admires_ _me_?"

"Yeah."

"Well." She covered her cheeks. "That's… wow."

"Now I'm feelin' jealous," Steve remarked.

"I'm already jealous," Bucky said. "Barton obviously wants to see Coulson, so today ain't the last you're gonna see of us, doll."

"Oh, I hope not," Jemma said, eyeing them over. "I really hope not."

* * *

**Apparently 'Agents of SHIELD' is starting in America in a few days? I'll have to follow ozhawk's advice and watch the episodes online; I already have to catch up by watching 'Agent Carter', because I was giving Australian television the benefit of the doubt.**

**Never. Again.**

**Please review! This is an adorable and cheeky ship, isn't it?**


	18. Help (Fury x Jemma)

"Help"

Jemma Simmons had learnt how to swim when she was only a few years old. As a scientist, she was well aware that the human body was capable of more things than the mind would allow. Where many people thought they could only hold their breath for twenty or thirty seconds, she could hold hers for up to three minutes, even when she was physically exerting herself. Fitz knew this, knew that she had the best chance, and made her take it.

Like hell was she going to leave her best friend to drown.

She heaved him out of the water as soon as she gulped down some air. Just because she could hold her breath longer than that, it didn't mean that her body wouldn't react instinctively. Tugging Fitz along as he floated on his back, she searched around. Surely someone could have found their signal? Surely someone could help them?

It felt like an age before she registered the sound of whirring blades, and felt the water churning around her. Jemma craned her head, and saw a heli-jet – whatever they were called – hovering above them.

"Help!" she screamed, waving her free arm while her legs moved faster to keep them afloat. The jet-or-copter lowered towards them, and the hatch on the side opened. Even if it was the enemy, it was better than being left in the middle of nowhere.

A shaded face appeared, and a hand stretched out to her. Keeping Fitz in one hand, she clasped on with the other, squinting against the sun, and hoping that they were with friends.

Her rescuer pulled with a grunt, and someone beside him hauled Fitz up. Jemma stumbled into the first man, relying on his solid support until she found her centre of gravity once more. The door slid shut, and she watched as two medics – she hoped – lifted Fitz into a chamber like the one they'd used for Skye. She shivered, and accepted the blanket wrapped around her shoulders with a grateful smile.

Wait a moment. That was…

Too stunned to say anything, Jemma sat down where Nicholas Fury indicated. This couldn't be right. They'd been told… no, surely not. She looked over to the chamber, biting her lip as tears came to her eyes. Were they dead?

"You're in decompression on a jet back to the mainland."

Her head jerked up and she stared at the director. Was there still a SHIELD to be director of? Did it even count if he turned out not to be…?

"They told us you were dead," she said numbly. His eyes widened, but he didn't say anything. With the soulmark stretching from one side of her waist to another… it wasn't as though anyone else was likely to say those exact words to her ever again.

Well, it certainly explained her past tastes, and why she'd never been attracted to Fitz.

"Good," Fury said. "We want word to get around on that."

The day had been long. Last few days, really. Jemma wiped the moisture off her face, but the water in her hair kept dislodging itself. It was getting in her ears, her eyes, down the back of her clothes, down her neck…

She noticed Fury kneel in front of her, and shyly met his eyes.

"He'll be alright," he said. "We'll get the best care we can for your friend, okay?"

Jemma nodded. "Thank you," she whispered. "He's my best friend in the world. If he got hurt because of me…"

"This is on HYDRA, not you."

"Sir, you should get your belt on!" the pilot called over her shoulder. "The girl, too."

"Sit next to me?" Jemma asked. Fury paused, and then strapped himself in next to her, buckling her in when her icy hands wouldn't co-operate. She leaned into his warmth.

"Tell me what happened," he said.

"It was supposed to float," was all she could say.

* * *

After a lifetime, the team got together at the secret base. Fury and Coulson had a private chat, and from where she stood Jemma could hear the word 'stupid' being used multiple times. She hovered around while they transferred Fitz to the medical room (to call it a ward would have been generous). The other Ward, the traitor Ward, had been imprisoned downstairs, and Jemma didn't trust herself near him. No matter what arguments Fitz had presented, Grant Ward was HYDRA and he'd betrayed them. Done possibly irreversible harm to her best friend. What if he had brain damage?

When Coulson and Fury finally emerged, it was to the revelation that Coulson was now in charge of rebuilding SHIELD. Director Coulson; no longer Agent Coulson. Did they even have the title of 'agent' anymore? What was SHIELD now?

Too many questions; too few answers. She approached her soulmate while Coulson made his announcement.

"What are you going to do now?" Jemma asked. Fury looked at her over the top of his sunglasses.

"Pretty much what you're gonna do, I guess," he said. "Finish Captain America's job. Track down HYDRA bit by bit, take `em out."

"By yourself?"

"It's better that way."

She stepped closer. "Let me come with you."

"I can't ask that of you. You're needed here. Your friends need you."

"Are you really going to be all on your own?"

He sighed, and pulled off his sunglasses.

"I'm gonna be going undercover," he said. "Have you done that before?"

"Not solo."

"The fewer people involved in a cover-up, the better, Simmons."

She smiled. "Please call me Jemma. You're my soulmate, after all."

"Yeah." He half-smiled. "Know how young you are. Thought I didn't have a soulmate, then your mark came along. You're so much younger."

"If it makes you feel better, you're basically all my types rolled into one."

Fury's eyebrows shot up. "Be that as it may, Simmons, you're better where you are, or wherever Coulson sends you. No point trusting the system anymore; trust him instead. And your instincts."

"But how will I know where you are?"

"The point is that you _don't_ know where I am. The point is that _no one_ finds out our connection."

"Right," she said, crossing her arms as her stance shifted subtly, "because HYDRA isn't already after my blood."

"It's worse now. I can't even track down your parents and move them to safety, because someone could find out. I'm just…" He sighed again, sounding more frustrated this time. "Glad that no one knew before. Anyone in the organisation – Ward, for example – could've taken advantage of that. Now you know not to trust anyone not thoroughly vetted."

"Is there a problem?" Coulson called to them.

"No," Fury replied.

"Yes," Jemma said. "Let me come with you. They can find a replacement for me here. You might get hurt—"

"Much as I'd love to have a pretty young thing nursing me, I can't take you away from here. When HYDRA's down, when this is all over… I'm gonna be older than before."

"So am I."

"The age difference won't just go away."

"It will mean less as time passes by," she said. "Please."

"Do you really think I can keep it platonic if you're with me all the time?"

"I was rather counting on you _not_ being able to keep it platonic. Sir."

"Call me Fury."

"Everyone would know who I'm referring to," Jemma pointed out.

"Well, you're not calling me Marcus. That's a specific code name."

"And I can't name you after Thor's father, or he might think I'm talking to him."

"Very funny," Fury muttered.

"Mister Sir?"

"No. Just… Don't make contact with me. Let me come to you."

"But—"

"Jemma. Please." She closed her mouth. "I've been in this game a long time, and I know how to direct my resources. If the time comes that I need you with me more than Coulson needs you here, I'll come for you. I'll say…"

He leaned in and whispered something in her ear. Jemma fought to concentrate on the words, and not on the way his breath tickled her skin.

Fury touched her cheek once, lightly, then left. When she turned back to face the others, she saw them staring at her, gob-smacked. She giggled nervously.

"That was… classified," she said.

* * *

_I'm not telling you how much time has passed; that's classified as well_

Jemma was grateful to be in a proper bed in a real motel. In the team's past, motels usually followed terrible times, and this occasion was no different. They'd collected new agents since beginning to rebuild SHIELD, plucking them from unlikely places. Some of the more logical places included jails, drug dens, brothels, and the streets. Knowing Phil Coulson's methods, she shouldn't have been surprised.

She had tried to achieve her original rapport with Fitz, who had far less trouble with his words. It helped that he'd found all three of his soulmates – she'd always told him he had a big heart – in Mack, Hunter, and Bobbi. They were just what he needed, and she was truly happy for him.

But she missed the soulmate she'd only had ten minutes with. She'd bought a few toys, but they didn't seem to help. She couldn't help thinking of him using them on her.

On the plus side, she had been training up her replacements. Anything could happen on missions; she might not be as lucky as she had been when she was undercover. She wouldn't always have a Bobbi Morse on her six. It was a terrible thought, but she didn't have that many positive thoughts these days. She'd contacted her parents only once, just before they all had to go dark. Skye kept an eye on them for her using international contacts, which was going above and beyond the call of friendship, and she would forever be grateful.

If Jemma had an ulterior motive for training more-than-acceptable replacements, she mentioned it to nobody.

In the middle of the night, she was woken by a hand over her mouth. Automatic reaction (i.e. Melinda May's thorough training) had her striking out before she could even escape from the covers. She had kicked her 'visitor' on the elbow and managed to punch in the vicinity of his stomach before her hands were held above her head in one hand, the other back on her mouth before she even noticed that it was missing.

"Shh. Stop struggling, and don't wake everyone up."

She blinked, relaxing. When the hands were gone – almost a disappointment – she stared up at the former director.

"Nicholas?" she said, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. "Is that—"

"Up for beating the next great adventure?" he said. Recognising the words, even though it had been so long since he whispered them to her, she tossed off the bedclothes and launched herself at him. He chuckled softly as she wrapped her arms around his torso, nuzzling into his hard chest.

"You've finally come for me," she said.

"I need you, Jemma."

She looked up at him, and smiled when he cupped her chin.

"Let me pack, and I'll go anywhere with you."

"Only what you need."

"If I had to pack only what I needed, I'd pack you."

He coughed quietly. "Better get moving, Dr. Simmons. The bad guys wait for no man. Or woman."

Jemma grabbed whatever she would need the most, leaving behind anything unnecessary. Although at the last moment, she stuffed her favourite toy into her case. You never know, she reasoned to herself.

"I must leave a note," she said. "Something so they'll know I'm safe."

"You're not."

"Fine, that I'm leaving of my own free will, that I won't be alone, and that I'm not leaving them to the wolves. I'm simply… working from another direction."

"That's one way of putting it," he muttered. "Better than me leaving a note saying 'She's mine now'."

She snorted delicately. "Please. I've been yours for a long time. Just as you're mine, I hope."

He helped her climb out the window, touching her probably more than was strictly necessary. She shivered as her shirt rode up beneath his hands.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he said. "C'mon. Your ride's this way."

"I thought _you_ were my ride," she said, giving him her innocent face. His eyes raked up and down her body as he led her through the dark.

"Later," he said. "When we're somewhere a little more comfortable."

"We should have taken advantage of the motel room."

"You'd wake up the hotel and blow our cover."

Blushing, Jemma wondered who was doing the seducing here. How marvellous if they both were. She'd been unsure how receptive he would be; it seemed her fears were unfounded.

"We'd better find somewhere comfortable pretty quickly," she said. "Because lonely nights have given me plenty of time to work out just what I want you to do to me… and what I want to do to you."

He growled softly and dragged her into his arms.

"Soon," he said. And he set about undoing her with a single, soul-penetrating kiss.

* * *

**Cripes, but I shouldn't be allowed to write fan fiction late at night. 'Soul-penetrating kiss'? Bloody hell.**

**Nice!Fury in this one, to make up for 'Notes'. Yeah, I know, they've met in canon, so I'm breaking my own rule. Which I might do a few more times, considering that I've got a Phil/Tony idea. My mind is a dangerous, dangerous place, as I'm sure you've gathered since the first flippin' chapter of this fic.**

**Please review!**


	19. Long Years Ago (Doom x Tony)

"Long Years Ago"

Tony Stark was twenty-two when he met his soulmate at a science convention. That's what he was calling it, anyway; it was really a social gathering of scientists and engineers, but everyone pulled out their favourite specs, their private joys, to show off. Representing Stark Industries, Tony had decided to surprise people with his ideas for a portable computer without a single button. The technology was close to being perfected… sort of… Well, it would be if he was allowed to design more and go to fewer board meetings. But Obi insisted, and Tony trusted him to know what was best.

He talked to the other scientists, nearly all of them older than him. Despite the Stark name, they didn't think he was even half as capable as his father. Well, he'd show them all one day. The most powerful and beautiful weapon to use against the enemy.

He was making minor adjustments to the computer's design when he bumped into someone near the table. Tony looked up into dark eyes set in a young face, and backed off a step. Dark Eyes scanned him with a smirk, and then noticed the design. He tilted his head to get a better look, and Tony fought the impulse to hide it behind his back, make the guy work for it.

"You gonna show me yours in return?" he said. Dark Eyes straightened, his eyebrows drawing together.

"If you think it's worth that," he said, pointing to the design. Tony's jaw dropped.

"Here?" he said.

"I suppose a bedroom would be more private for seeing each other's… assets."

"No, I meant, I found my soulmate _here_?" Tony mussed up his hair. "Shit. I've been trying to avoid these things for _years_."

"This is only my second time at a science gala, but I am definitely enjoying myself." He looked Tony over again, his eyes more heated this time. "I hope to enjoy myself even more upstairs, in the room I booked."

Tony grinned, and held out his hand. "What's your name?"

"Victor."

"I'm Tony."

"Yes, I know that."

"Where do you work, Victor?"

"I am studying, but I plan to open my own business in spring. One of my rivals is here." He nodded towards a group. "Reed Richards."

"Richards? That crackpot?"

Victor laughed heartily. "You are cynical, Mr. Stark."

"Tony, please."

"Tony." He said it slowly, seeming to savour it. He drew a folded blueprint out of his suit pocket. "I am interested in improving space travel, among other things."

"Wow." Tony's eyes gleamed as he looked over the designs. "You know, what I'm working on could be used on this, at least the micro-sized components."

"The size of technology is one of the few things in life which should get smaller," Victor said, stroking a finger down the side of Tony's arm. He shivered as Victor folded up the plans and tucked them away. "We can talk about this later. I would love to see my words on you."

"I'd love you to see them," Tony admitted.

"Come upstairs?"

"Which floor?"

"Seven."

"I'm on six. Just let me get into something more comfortable, and I'll meet you there. Room?"

"Eighteen."

"If I take more than half an hour, call out a search party."

Victor chuckled, running a finger down the centre of Tony's back and pausing at the base of his spine. Tony didn't know whether he wanted it to continue or not. Considering that they weren't alone yet, it was probably best that Victor stopped.

"Don't be longer than fifteen minutes," he said. "We'd better take separate elevators, or I'll end up having you against the wall, and damn anyone who interrupts."

Tony didn't whimper, not even close. But he hurried all the same.

He was on floor seven as well, but he alighted on level six and then ran up the stairs. It was ingrained in him that he never let a potential enemy know where he was staying. He was supposed to be able to trust his soulmate, but he'd read horror stories about millionaires being taken advantage of. Victor was still a student, looking to start up on his own. So Tony carefully stored his dummy plans in the safe, and his real plans in plain sight, just disguised. They were in three different places, an extra safety precaution.

Then he stripped, grabbed supplies, and dressed in much looser clothes. He had a message sent to Obi's room, telling him where he would be, and slipped a note under his door just in case the verbal message wasn't delivered. Then he walked along the hall, around the corner, and up to room 718.

The seconds after he knocked dragged by, and he was tense enough to snap by the time the door opened.

"I hope you have more clothes somewhere, because these won't last the next two minutes," Victor said. Then he yanked Tony into the room by his shirt-front, crushed their lips together, and slammed the door shut. He pressed Tony into the wood, keeping him pinned with his mouth, and with a thigh between Tony's legs, while he ripped the shirt clean apart. Tony groaned, his hips twitching, as a hot mouth made its way down his chest.

"Got… stuff…" he said, pulling out the lube and condoms with slack hands. Victor took them, threw them onto the bed, and returned to Tony. His zipper was nearly torn, the button snapped clean off, and Tony had to shuffle off his designer leather shoes before they fell victim, too.

This was steaming heaven, and he wanted more of it.

"You'll get more," Victor promised. With a strength Tony didn't expect, he lifted Tony in his arms and carried him to the bed. "You won't be able to walk in the morning."

"What about you?" Tony asked. He was a Stark; he wasn't going to be pushed around _all_ night. Victor smiled smugly.

"I'll let you top," he said. "But I can guarantee you'll never want anything else in you but me, and you'll only ever be content when I'm drilling in to you."

Tony keened softly, and tugged at Victor's clothes.

"Off," he said. "Take `em off. All of it. Wanna see you."

"Where is your mark?" Victor asked, stripping while Tony enjoyed the show.

"Back of my lower right leg," Tony said, and he angled it for Victor to see. Victor's grin turned even more evil. Tony hadn't thought it was possible.

"Mine is here," he said, pulling off his shirt. Tony's handwriting curled over his shoulder. If that's where their soulmarks were supposed to meet while they bonded… He blushed uncharacteristically.

"I don't think I'm that bendy yet," he said.

"We'll practise. After we bond, the greatest pleasure will be felt when we are connected there."

"In other words," Tony said, but he trailed off when Victor shed his final pieces of clothing. His mouth dried up when he saw what he'd be working with. God. "I-in other words, I'd better get used to receiving."

"Once we have left the hotel, I will procure something to keep you a little stretched all the time," Victor said, climbing onto the bed between Tony's legs. "Right now, you _know_ what I want."

Tony lay back down, his heart fluttering, and he began to look forward to years of this.

When Victor left before he woke up, Tony's heart shattered.

* * *

_2015_

"Seriously, who does this guy think he is?" Clint grouched over the comms. "Why can't he just stay in Latveria? At _least_ when the Fantastic Four isn't overseas? If he's just doing it to pull Reed Richards' pigtails, there's no point in inconveniencing _us_…"

"All super villains have to be spectacular," Steve said, grunting as he heaved a Doombot over his shoulder. There was a clang as his shield met another one. "In their own ways. I guess he was just ready early, and figured why the hell not?"

"Bastard," Tony said, flying from one end of the road to the other, and blasting robots off the sides of buildings. He'd perfected the locking system – well, kinda – so that it did minimal damage to anything other than the target. The fewer repairs which had to be made, the less likely the public was to bite them in the ass for, you know, _saving their lives_. They really should've just retired to Asgard, and seen how civilians handled super villains without super _heroes_ (and heroines) around to rescue them. Asgard appreciated heroes.

"How many are scanning, Iron Man?" Natasha asked.

"Six left on the radar – wait, nope, just took out a couple. Okay, four. Two near you and Hawkass, one near Cap, and one with… Doom. He's here."

"He had to be somewhere," Steve pointed out. Tony hated it when he was being reasonable _during battle_.

"Can I _please_ go beat him up?" Clint said.

"Help Natasha—"

"I'll see Doom," Tony said.

"Tony—"

"We don't need diplomatic skills right now, Cap. I'm the closest… got him in sight…"

"Don't shoot, Tony! The last thing we need is war with Latveria?"

"A puny country such as that?" Thor boomed over the comms. Tony was gonna have to lower the mic volume on Thor's gear. "`Tis nothing."

"Fine, no killing Latveria's ruler," Tony grumbled, and he landed near Doom. The dictator turned to look at him, mask still in place. "But it doesn't mean I'm not gonna 'have words' with him about messing up our weekend plans just `cause he has it in for Reed Richards."

There was a name Tony hated, and the memories it brought up of a great night and a terrible morning. The worst morning ever. Even Afghanistan was mildly better than waking up alone after a night – the only night – with his soulmate.

"Hey, asshole," Tony said, retracting the Iron Man face plate. He stopped before Doom. "Wanna do this face-to-face or something? Look, the Fantastic Four isn't here at the moment, so, just… in the future, if you could leave a message, and they'll get back to you about suitable fight times as soon as possible, okay? In the meantime, I'm gonna have to take you into custody."

Slowly, Doom removed his mask. Tony recognised that face instantly, even though it'd been twenty years or so, and he moved back.

"What?" he whispered.

"We meet again, Tony."

"Victor? You were… science student… business… _shit_."

"I remember putting that dirty mouth of yours to good use."

Tony blushed despite himself. He was in the Iron Man suit, but he hadn't felt this vulnerable in years.

"Yeah, before you left in the morning," he said. "I guess I dodged a nuclear bomb there, didn't I?"

Doom – Victor – no, Doom frowned.

"I was informed that I had a meeting with a money-lender interested in my business," he said. "I gave my contact details to Stane, and he told me that he would pass them on to you. The money-lender agreed to finance me and my work… but you never called."

"You…" Tony clenched his fists. Just an excuse, he told himself. "You weren't there. You left without waking me—"

"You are a notoriously bad sleeper. I had worn you out, and Stane suggested that I leave you to—"

"Obi? Obadiah Stane, the guy who stabbed me in the back several years ago? Who turned out to have been working against me – and controlling me – for a long…" Tony felt the blood drain from his face, and saw Doom realise it as well.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"He must have arranged the loan—"

"You would've gotten there on your own merits," Tony said, blinking back the sweat dripping down his face. "I'd seen your work. Just… please tell me." He folded his arms, and swallowed. "Am I the reason you became a super villain?"

"You're not the reason I gained super strength, but the experience did leave me bitter."

"I'm sorry." Tony bowed his head, hate and guilt and regret welling up inside him. "I shouldn't have—"

"Your father trusted him, and you trusted him. You had no reason to think he would—"

"Yeah, but it always happens in stories! The rich guy pays off the poor waitress to stay away from his brother, or tries to, or arranges it in some way… He must've known we'd meet again eventually. We're _soulmates_."

"You're _what_?"

Tony turned his head, and saw the rest of the Avengers gathered behind him. He gulped, and stood aside.

"Turns out he's my soulmate," he said. "The one I thought I'd lost."

"You did lose me," Doom said. Tony's heart – the one he thought he didn't have – sank like lead. He knew he shouldn't want the villain, but… this was Victor. The guy who'd made Tony think, made him laugh, made him feel more than he'd ever felt before in just one night. Made him cry when Tony hadn't even cried for his parents' death.

Filling with despair, Tony brought the Iron Man face plate back into place.

"Now we've got that cleared up, I'm gonna go start on the paperwork Steve's probably gonna insist on," he said, hoping that the tremor in his voice was filtered out. "Later."

He shot into the sky, disconnecting his comm. unit before the others could start yelling at him. Not his fault he didn't connect the pieces. He'd never had any real interest in Victor von Doom, steered clear of the name 'Victor' whenever possible.

To find out they'd fought against his soulmate several times? That he'd nearly killed Doom himself on no less than three occasions? That… he'd never been the one to abandon Tony, but that it was just more of Stane's treachery?

There were no words for how much that hurt.

* * *

It was on the news that night. The fight, that is. Thankfully, no one had found out the tie between Iron Man and Doom. Tony had no idea what he would do if the public ever found out the truth. Hope that they thought it was all some giant prank.

He wished it was.

He wished neither of them had been fooled.

He wished that he hadn't indulged in forbidden memories the minute he started to clean off in the shower.

…He wished his mom was here to tell him what to do.

"When were you going to tell us?" Bruce asked, settling beside Tony on the sofa.

"Tell you what?"

"About Doom."

"I didn't know," Tony said. "That he was my soulmate. I knew my soulmate's name was Victor, but I thought he'd decided I wasn't worth it. I avoided any Victors I could after that, didn't even look at pictures of him, so I didn't know. Didn't…"

"Didn't want to think about it."

"Yeah." Tony rested his chin on his knees, his arms wrapped around his shins. "What a goddamned mess."

"Do you want to see him again?" Natasha asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of Tony, facing him. He inhaled shakily.

"I… wanted everything," he said. "It sucks that it'll never happen. I screwed up." He rubbed his hands over his face. "Should've tried to find him myself. I could've told myself he'd lost my contact information, but I'm Tony _fucking_ Stark. It's not like it would've been hard to walk up to the front desk of Stark Industries and say 'My name is Victor. Could you please tell Tony Stark that I'm here to see him?'"

"And maybe he should have tried. But you're Tony Stark, and he was a relatively unknown name in science. If you didn't contact him, wouldn't he take it as a sign that you thought he wasn't good enough for you? Why would he push for something?"

"Why should he?" Tony said, rubbing his itchy eyes. "I'm just another screw-up who believed a traitor's lies when I should've _known_ that we were meant to be together. If we'd bonded right away, this never would've happened."

"Why didn't you bond?" Bruce said. "I would've thought you'd jump at that chance."

"Because… the position would be… awkward. For me. I could do it now, since you've been teaching me yoga—"

"When you remember to turn up for lessons—"

"But he didn't want to push me that far on the first night." Tony smiled bitterly. "I should've known a considerate guy like that would be worth chasing. Probably would've just told myself that he only wanted me for one night, and he didn't _want_ to risk being found."

"And now?"

"And now…" Tony sighed. "You don't need to do this."

"Tell us, Anthony," Thor said sternly.

"Look, he's the enemy now. Our enemy. He does bad things, we stop it, people are happy… sometimes. Since when do the good guys marry the bad guys?"

"Marriage?" Natasha said.

"I… only thought about it that night. It's what happens, right? Meet soulmate, get to know soulmate, marry, bond – or the other way around – and live happily ever after. It's all garbage nowadays, but I thought that's where we'd end up. Live happily ever after in a mansion full of labs for experiments, maybe a couple of adopted kids or pets or whatever, not that we discussed that. I think he would've been down with that. I mean, if I was, he had to be, right? That's how it works. Fate matches people together."

"If he turned things around, stopped playing the super villain," Steve said. "Would that change things?"

"I think we'd all be happier. At least I wouldn't hate myself for lo— wanting him."

"Sir?" JARVIS said.

"Yeah, J?"

"If you have made up your mind, Victor von Doom is waiting in your bedroom, or room seven-eighteen as he insists on calling it tonight."

JARVIS brought up the video feed for Tony's bedroom, and his breath caught when he saw Victor relaxing on the bed, one foot tapping the air. He looked at his team-mates, who were all smiling at him. Well, what d'you know.

"Goodnight," he said, and he vaulted over the back of the sofa. The elevator was already waiting, and he waved off the wolf whistles and cheers of encouragement as the doors slid shut.

"Dr. Banner has asked me to remind you to bear in mind the principles of yoga," JARVIS said. "For maximum flexibility, he said."

"Thanks, buddy, but no one's allowed to peek at Daddy tonight except Daddy's soulmate, okay?" Tony said.

"Absolutely, sir. Only the standard monitoring of your health."

"And Victor's."

"Of course."

"But hopefully I'm gonna be the one worn out by morning."

"Judging by the smile on your soulmate's face, I believe that he will deliver on that, sir."

As soon as the doors opened again, Tony was racing through to his bedroom. He skidded into the doorframe in his enthusiasm, and began to strip.

"Seriously, no foreplay," he said as Victor stood up from the bed. "Just minimal prep. I wanna feel this the rest of the weekend."

"You'll feel it everywhere," Victor said, peeling off his clothing with much more finesse.

"Including my hip joints?" Tony said. "I'm bendier now, and I'm not gonna risk losing you a second time."

"Never again. I will always know how to find you."

* * *

**I don't even know. This pairing was suggested by kogouma, another of my loyal readers. I hope it was okay. More feelsy than I'd imagined, but meh.**

**Please review!**


	20. Mew-Mew Time (Bucky x Darcy)

"Mew-Mew Time"

Darcy wished she'd never started working out. It seemed like a good idea at the time – and she'd had to go kind of easy with the girls on her chest – but who knew it would lead to so much trouble? It started out as weights and an exercise bike. Then it became a rowing machine, a treadmill, sparring with spies, and next thing she knew she was herding civilians during times of terror. Why couldn't she be one of the people hiding indoors? Why did she have to become Jane Foster's intern, leading to all the crazy she had to deal with on a regular basis?

She made poor life choices, that's for sure.

Still. Couldn't criticise the view. When it meant days of staring at Bruce Banner's ass while he was bent over a table and working, watching Clint Barton loosing arrow after arrow with those biceps flexing, ogling Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov as they sparred in the ring… she could totally get used to all that. It was just the days when everything went to hell in a hand-basket that she wanted to commit herself.

"Please, just stay behind the overturned tables," she told some dude who kept wanting to prove he was a man in front of his new girlfriend. Said girlfriend was telling him he was being an idiot, and Darcy privately agreed. "Don't make me disable you."

He snorted, and looked her up and down. "You?"

Her eyes narrowed. Three seconds later he was crawling to his girlfriend, whimpering about broken bones, and Darcy was scowling at everyone else she'd shepherded into the restaurant. They all stayed put.

"Okay," she said. "Don't make me come back in here. Check Twitter for updates."

She gave them her Twitter handle and went back outside, putting her earpiece back in and asking for instructions as she continued west.

"Darcy." It was Natasha. "We've just found out who the bad guys are behind the attack. They're loosely affiliated with HYDRA and AIM, and one of them is a former SHIELD agent. We don't know where he is—"

"Actually," she said softly, "I think he might be the guy pointing a gun at my head."

The Black Widow said something particularly nasty in Russian. If they were instructions, Darcy was in no position to do anything about them.

"Keep walking," the man said, pressing the gun at the top of her neck. "When I tell you to stop, you stop. Got it?"

"You're not gonna give me even one chance to run?"

"Honey, at this distance I'm not gonna miss your head if you make one move I don't like."

"So…" She glanced at him in the reflection of a shop window as they kept moving forward. "Do I get a name?"

"I'd like to get your name."

She nearly stumbled. "Wait. You don't know who I am? This is completely random?"

"I've seen you with the Avengers, but we've never been introduced, strangely enough."

"Ha. Yeah. I can see why."

"Keep moving!"

Darcy frowned. "Don't I even get to know where you're taking me?"

"Shut up."

She rolled her eyes, humming 'U Can't Touch This' to keep her spirits up. This was slightly worse than a typical day with the Avengers, she had to admit. At least the tracking chip in her right shoe would let JARVIS keep track of her, so yay.

"Stop, mew-mew time!" she sang softly. The guy behind her growled. She could still hear the Avengers in her ear, bitching to each other about Darcy being unprotected. Hello, she could still hear them declaiming her as useless! Okay, not exactly their words, but she was vulnerable at the moment. She could be pissed off at them if she wanted to, with their stupid hotness, and their stupid penchant for getting into trouble and dragging her into it.

Really, did these people have no concept of mirrors? She could see exactly where this was going when she checked out the shop windows opposite an alleyway – thank you, Tony, for funding her strongest prescriptions yet – and noticed at least half a dozen people there. If she was lucky, they just wanted to beat her up. Considering that even at that distance, their arms rivalled Thor's for size, she was starting to freak out at any potential fate. Seriously, the guy behind her looked the least threatening, and he was wielding a gun.

"It's here, isn't it?" she said, stopping abruptly about three yards from the alley. The ex-agent behind her wasn't expecting that. She was rewarded with a momentary look of surprise before she roundhouse kicked him, knocked the gun from his hand, employed one hell of an uppercut, and began to run like crazy back the way they'd come. When she first realised how dangerous it was to work with the Avengers, she invested in top-of-the-range running shoes, and they came in handy now. Or footy, as the case may be.

It wasn't long before she heard her wannabe assailants running after her. No way was she looking back. She shouted into her comm. for the others to send someone, anyone to help her, for directions to the nearest safe place. Problem was, they were needed elsewhere. The needs of the many outweighing the needs of the few.

Didn't mean she wasn't feeling selfish. She was possibly about to die – or worse – so she was allowed to feel sorry for herself.

"Stay out of the way!"

Darcy's head jerked around. She got barely any warning before someone grabbed her around the waist and threw her to the other side of a dumpster. At least Natasha's training came in handy, because she braced herself against the brick wall before she could graze herself or dislocate something. Confused, she looked back, and saw a guy with longish dark hair, dressed in leather – be still her racing heart – fighting off _eight huge guys_. She felt about for her taser, pulled it out, and readied herself to jump in and help him. Damned if she was gonna leave her rescuer to the wolves.

"I'm okay for the moment," she panted into the comm. unit. "But I think we're gonna need backup."

"I am on my way!" Thor declared. "The enemy appears to be joining you."

"The enemy's already here, but… oh." She blinked as one of the flying machines came around the end of the road, carrying more people. Her hero didn't look back; he just kept punching out the men who'd been after Darcy.

"Thor, get over here _now_!" she growled. Fortunately, he rounded the corner then, calling up lightning to strike down the metal doodad. He threw Mew-Mew around, and it bounced her way as he began to strike with fists.

Determined not to be left out now that she had two competent men near her, Darcy strode out. There were still three bad guys standing, which was unacceptable, even though the stranger stayed strong. He seriously wasn't tiring. If only all guys had that kind of stamina. Wouldn't it be mind-blowing to have a guy like that as her soulmate?

…Wait.

She held out the taser and struck down the nearest thug. He twitched and fell, and Darcy began to search for a recharge.

Her eyes widened when she saw some of the downed men starting to get up. With twitches and jerky movements.

"Robots," she whispered. Her guy in leather – her _soulmate_? – seemed to recognise that, because she saw his frown. He looked over at her, and noticed Mew-Mew. He ran over, heaved it up, and then went after the pseudo-robots. Whatever they were.

Wow. She really hoped that Thor didn't call for Mew-Mew, because it was kind of occupied.

Just in case, she had a look, and saw that Thor was knocking out the last thingummy. He looked over, and she pointed to her mystery guy. A few whacks later, and all of them were down. He dropped the hammer beside his feet. Thor called for it, and the guy swung around, watching it fly back to its master. Darcy ran to his side, trying to think of something distinctive to say to him, so he'd know it was her.

"I'm thinking I should kiss you for saving my life," she blurted out. He stared at her, and she nearly swooned. He was _really_ good-looking. Those eyes left her feeling naked in the best way, and his heaving chest really emphasised the muscles she could see beneath the leather. His lips were pink and slightly parted. She really, _really_ wanted to taste them.

"You," he said. "You are my…"

"Seems so, yeah. Always thought my soulmate would be a jerk, considering my mark says 'Stay out of the way'. Didn't know you'd be doing it to save my life, so kudos to you. I got lucky with my soulmate." She took off her jacket and showed off the words running down her left arm, where most people had their mark. He traced them with a small smile. "Wanna show me yours?"

She reached out for his left arm, and was surprised when he moved it back.

"Not there," he said. He rolled up his right sleeve. "It appeared here."

Sure enough, her flirtatious remark in her handwriting. Overwhelmed with relief, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. His arms came around her waist and he pulled her close, tilting his head and deepening the kiss with obvious skill. Darcy melted, tangling her fingers in his hair, and tugging when she needed to emerge for breath. He pressed his lips against her forehead, and she laughed breathily.

"I could seriously get used to that," she said.

"I'm not a good man," he said softly. She met his eyes, frowning.

"Dude, you hauled around Mew-Mew."

"I… what?"

"Mew-Mew! Thor's hammer! That thing you used to bring down the bad guys at the end there? Only someone who's worthy can swing it. Even Steve Rogers only got it to move a little, and he's as strong as an ox. Mind you." She squeezed his biceps. "You've got some great guns on you… too…" Curious, she looked closer at his left arm. "What's…" He moved her hand away from it. "Uh, my name's Darcy. I think I should probably tell you that. What's your name?"

He exhaled slowly. "James Buchanan Barnes. Friends call me Bucky."

Darcy was still gaping at him as the others ran up, Steve in the lead. He came to a stop beside them.

"Bucky?" he said.

"Yeah?" Bucky said, not looking away from her. "What is it, punk?"

Steve laughed, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good to have you back and kissing unsuspecting girls."

"Unsuspecting?" Darcy said, affronted. "I'll have you know I asked for it. It's even written on his arm."

Steve glanced at the left arm, and she realised why Bucky didn't want her to touch it. It was his prosthetic, the one given to him by HYDRA. She pressed into his side, leaving his front clear, and pulled his metal arm around her waist.

"Other arm," Bucky said. "Words didn't appear until after I'd lost this one."

"A _long_ time after," Darcy added. "Many, many years."

"You're a lucky guy," Steve said. "We all think Darcy's the best. And you're lucky, too, Darcy."

"He came to my rescue," she said. "Of course I know I'm lucky. And did you see him using Mew-Mew? It was _awesome_."

"You used Mjolnir?"

"Aye, he did indeed," Thor said. "I had thought it impossible, even for you."

"Just wanted to protect her," Bucky said, ducking his head. Darcy stroked his hair back so she could see his face better.

"Aren't you the best?" she said. "My parents are gonna love you."

He looked unnerved at that.

* * *

**Darcy keeps getting awful soulmarks which mean completely different things to what she thought they would mean. Admittedly, in 'No Pussy Jokes' her mark was slightly worse than this one.**

**Okay, so I've been wanting to read – or write – something where Bucky is able to pick up and use Mjolnir. It probably helped that he had no idea what he was using in this story; just saw it as another weapon to protect Darcy. Daw! Heroic!Bucky is heroic.**

**Please review!**


	21. Extremis (Johnny x Pepper)

"Extremis"

"I'm sorry, Pep, but they couldn't get all of it out. Not at once. They said that it put too much strain on your heart, and… well, it's a big heart. Can't do without it, or you."

Pepper tried not to cry, she really did. And she knew she couldn't hurt Tony, or anyone else. Somehow, she had control over it, at least with people she knew and loved, platonically or otherwise. But if she didn't know someone, what then? What about when she met her soulmate? Would he or she think Pepper was a freak to have this fire running through her body? What if she literally exploded one day?

"Hey, hey, don't cry now," Tony said soothingly, holding her hand where she lay in the hospital bed. "The doctors did blood work tests, and yours seems to have some kind of gene in it that stabilises Extremis. That's why it didn't work on everyone. Something Killian didn't pick up on."

She shivered at the memory. Wearing different clothes – who'd changed them? – and the implications that he wanted to sleep with her. She felt violated, and whenever she remembered the fight she could almost feel phantom hands on her.

"Know what I'm gonna nickname you?" Tony said. "The Dragon. You're gonna be Dragon Lady. Fiercest CEO in the West."

Pepper laughed wetly. "Thanks, Tony, but being called a dragon isn't exactly a compliment. And I can't breathe fire."

"Rhodey said that some of them could."

"Well, I'm not going to try," she said, sitting up. She raised the back of the bed to make herself more comfortable. "When can I get back to work?"

He grinned. "There's the Pepper we all know and love. Hey, what about Red Hot Chilli Pepper?"

"No. Nicknames."

"Aw, but I give everyone nicknames!"

"No, Tony."

He sniffled. "Fine. But I'm still allowed you call you hot."

"You really aren't."

"Not to your face, maybe—"

"I'm in for some truly awful puns, aren't I?"

Tony winked. "And don't you know it."

* * *

Ever since some guy named Scorch appeared and then disappeared from the international heat radar maintained by the Fantastic Four, Johnny had been on his toes. Really, they'd set it up in collaboration with Stark Industries, using Johnny's readings as an example, after the business with Extremis. Soon after that something to do with insects had a Scorch listed for about two hours, and Johnny began paying closer attention. It wasn't Extremis-related, at least. No one really seemed to have been affected by Extremis.

Well, there was the rumour that Pepper Potts had been enhanced, but she'd also reportedly had surgery to remove the virus from her body. If she had any heat, it wasn't showing up on the radar…

Except she was the head of Stark Industries. She could've been hiding it. It made sense; a female CEO with a controversial super power? Stocks would plummet, there'd be smear campaigns, reactions based on stupidity, jealousy, and fear of the unknown. Johnny liked keeping up with social media as much as the next person, but he also knew how people could spin things their way, and their uninformed opinions would be saved somewhere for posterity.

He could've gone looking, tried to break through whatever sensor might have been blocking her from the radar. But he couldn't risk someone discovering his suspicions. So he did the only thing he could do.

Make an appointment with Virginia Potts under the guise of discussing the project, and ask her about it in the privacy of her secure office.

* * *

"Mr. Storm is here to see you," Pepper's secretary said.

"Show him in."

A handsome man, with a strong resemblance to Steve Rogers, sauntered into the room. She'd been dreading this meeting because of his reputation, and also the possibility that he would recognise the Extremis inside of her. She kept a tight lid on it, and gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk.

"Thanks very much for the invite," he said, plonking down into the chair. She blinked.

"It can't be you," she said. He looked up at her, and raised his eyebrows.

"Can't be me what?" he said. Then his eyes widened comically. "Holy shit, really? My soulmate is Pepper freaking Potts?"

"My middle name isn't 'freaking'," she said absently. "Uh, what can I do for you today, Mr. Storm?"

He snorted. "Mr. Storm was… well, you know. I'm Johnny." He held out his hand, and she shook it. His temperature matched hers; he had to notice that. Judging by his considering look, he had.

"You'd better call me Miss Potts," she said. "Just for the time being."

"Ah, being strictly professional in the office? I'm cool with that." He winked. "So to speak. Soulmate." He laughed lightly, and shrugged at her quizzical look. "Not at all what I was expecting today, but I can't say I'm unhappy with the results. Hey, you'd get on great with my sister, just so you know."

"I've met her a few times," she said. "You're here to talk about the radar system, aren't you?"

"Sort of," he said, his gaze running over her. "Mainly why you're not showing up on it."

Pepper swallowed, her legs tensing. "I'm still having difficulty keeping it under my skin," she murmured. "Tony created a few things for me. There's a band on my right foot, one going around my stomach, one high up on my left arm. They regulate my body temperature so the… virus doesn't show."

"That explains it," Johnny said. "Okay. Good to know the equipment isn't malfunctioning or anything like that. So." He clapped his hands together. "A date. We need to set up a date. Unless…" He frowned. "You're still with Tony Stark?"

"No. He found his soulmate. They tried to keep it platonic, but I told him that I wasn't going to find _my _soulmate while I was still with him. He and Bruce are happy together, and they're working on the Hulk not showing up when… Yes." She nodded. "I'm single."

"Not anymore, unless you hate the idea of me being your boyfriend," he said. "No one could ever say I was after you for your money, or for Stark tech. I've got my own funds, and a scientist for a brother-in-law. Would I want to leave my family? Not entirely."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Pepper said quickly. "I have a place at the tower, but I also like having my own space away from the Avengers. Living with them… is far from anyone's idea of a quiet life."

"May I remind you, Miss Potts, that I'm part of a superhero team," he said.

"Yes, but you already had history with your team-mates before banding together," she pointed out. "Toss mostly strangers together and hope for the best? I have no idea what Nicholas Fury was thinking. A day without arguments is a miracle. It's usually when they haven't interacted at all that day." Johnny laughed. "They're… the only family I have. Tony, Rhodey, Happy. My family."

"Well, I hope they approve of me, then. Want a date?"

She chewed on her bottom lip, until she noticed him staring hungrily at the action.

"I have your phone number," she said. "I'll have my secretary look over my diary and find an appropriate time."

"So you work every waking hour?"

"Well, no—"

"In other words, I have a definite chance?"

She smiled. "For my soulmate? Of course."

"And…" He trailed off, turning serious. "I can try to help you control the heat. Neither of us were born with the ability. At first, I could just switch it on and off with a snap of my fingers. Then I realised that it wasn't just my hands. My whole body could become a fireball. I could _fly_."

"I definitely can't fly."

"Oh, but I can make you think you're on cloud nine," he drawled. Pepper breathed in unsteadily.

"Uh-huh?" she said.

"The point is, I had to teach myself to control my power, just as Susie did. Ben… is just a rock. He can't change that. Reed didn't have all that much trouble. A bit of a problem with distances, but that was okay. Susan had the most trouble out of all of us."

"I didn't know that."

"Not something we talk about all that much. Everyone wants to know the positives of having powers, and sometimes the negatives, but never about how we managed to use them. The energy and concentration involved. It's been a long time for me, so it comes naturally now. You're new to the super power business."

"Then…" Pepper sighed. "Yes. I'd appreciate your help."

"Anything for my soulmate." He grinned. "I'm gonna have fun saying that all day. And Susan's probably gonna call you and cry over the phone."

"I'll be waiting."

"So will I," Johnny said. "For you to tell me where our first date will be, and when."

"As soon as possible," she said. "For you to teach me how to control this, of course."

"No other reason?"

"None at all."

He stood, still smirking.

"Of course not," he said. Then he leaned over the desk and pecked her on the lips. Much more restrained than she'd imagined. But then she was less likely to burn him.

Then again, with Johnny Storm as her soulmate, Pepper would never have to worry about burning him at all.

"Will tomorrow night be fine?" she asked.

* * *

**Ship requested by Zyrieen, specifically for Extremis!Pepper. Hope it lived up to whatever expectations existed. (Ooh, three words starting with 'ex'. So proud of myself.)**

**An unlikely pairing, but I do so love challenging myself. And my gods, but I'm on a roll tonight. Well, I'll be out a few times this week, so I may as well give you a whole bunch of chapters while I can.**

**Review, review, review! I need positive energy for the next few days, for reasons I can't disclose yet for fear of jinxing myself. Yep. I can be superstitious.**


	22. Play With Your Arrow (Clint x Fitz)

"Play With Your Arrow"

For some reason, they'd all been dragged to Stark Tower.

Well, no, Leo Fitz knew exactly why they were there. They'd raided an experimental facility which had shown up on the radar as a HYDRA lab. There, Leo and Mack had come across two captives, one virtually a blur of silvery grey, and the other a woman in red, sitting in one of the corners of her cell.

"Hey!" Leo said, banging on the glass. She hadn't even looked up. "Do you know how to get these things open?"

She'd looked up at him, and then at Mack. She smiled, almost shyly, and pointed to a control panel.

"You get whatever you can find, and I'll tackle this," Mack said, waving Leo off. "Go on, Turbo. I've been playing all those Nancy Drew games. How hard can this be?"

"There isn't some second chance option for this, I'm guessing," Leo muttered. But sure enough, half a minute later, there was a whoosh of moving glass. He looked up in time to see the silver blur approach him, and grab him by the throat. "Hey!"

"Get off him!" Mack shouted, grabbing the guy – Leo was pretty sure it was a man – and pulled him away.

"Pietro, leave him alone," the woman said. She looked up at Mack, studying him. "I am sorry, but my brother misunderstood his intentions."

Leo's jaw dropped in tandem with Mack's. He knew those words.

"Not a problem," Mack said, glancing at Leo. "Is it?"

"Just a misunderstanding," Leo said, massaging the skin of his throat. Curious, he tilted his head. "Did you have a reason for trying to… to…"

"Strangle you?"

"Yeah."

"You are a scientist."

"Well, more of an engineer, really. How did you guess?"

"You look like one. You banged on the glass."

"We have seen many scientists and engineers," the woman said. "I am Wanda, and this is my brother Pietro."

"I'm Fitz, this is Mack," he said, jerking his thumb in Mack's direction. "I think he's a bit taken aback by you."

"In a good way, I hope," Wanda said, looking Mack over again. Leo suppressed a snigger at the way Mack's cheeks turned darker.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "Let's get you outta here. Done yet, Turbo?"

"There is nothing much of interest," Wanda said. "When they heard you coming, they left with anything of value."

"Except you," Leo said, and she laughed. "Mack's right. We need to get going. I'll let the others know."

Picking up the mutants known as Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch was enough reason to be taken to Stark Tower, since it was closer than the Xavier Institute and much more secure. But it was what happened next that sealed the deal.

"There's trouble," Phil said sharply. "The Winter Soldier was seen entering the building half an hour ago. Quake just found the footage."

"What do we do if we meet him?" Mack said.

"Do not engage. Repeat, do not engage him. We don't know his current mental state, and it would be unwise to—"

There was a shriek from nearby, and Leo's blood froze. He knew that voice.

"Jemma," he whispered. Then he took off. They weren't as close as they used to be, but damned if he was going to let the girl he still cared for be harmed when he could prevent it. He pulled out his Nite-Nite gun and got ready to fire.

He rounded the corner, and found Jemma in someone's arms. At this angle, all he saw was casual clothing and medium-length hair. Jemma had her arms around his neck, and he seemed to be holding her carefully.

"Simmons?" Leo said. She looked his way.

"Fitz! I found my soulmate," she said, beaming from ear to ear, and she turned. Her soulmate turned with her, and Leo saw the metal arm right away.

"Shit," he said. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"The Winter… uh, Bucky Barnes is Simmons' soulmate."

Coulson said something Leo never thought he'd hear anyone say. Well, not since he was last in a Scottish pub.

"No need to be like that, sir," Jemma scolded over the comm. unit. "I'm bringing him in. It's either that or go where he wants me to."

"No," the Winter Soldier said, holding her close. "I'll go with you."

He insisted on contacting Captain Bloody America, which led to trouble when Skye hacked Stark's computer system to get the phone number. Within an hour they were surrounded by Avengers, led by Steve Rogers, who walked up to Bucky – yes, apparently they all had to call him 'Bucky' now – and stopped three feet away from him.

"It's really you," he said. Bucky shrugged.

"You can't do without me, punk," he said.

"No, I sure as hell can't," Captain Rogers said, grinning. He clapped Bucky on the shoulder, and looked at Jemma. "This your soulmate?"

"Her name's Jemma," Bucky said. "She's a doctor."

"Not really a medical one, although I do have biology training, as bio-science is my specialty, of course—"

"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am," Rogers said, shaking her hand. Bucky snorted.

"Don't go stealin' her away now," he said. Jemma frowned at him.

"No one could steal me from you," she said indignantly.

"Do you wanna meet the others?" Rogers said. He gestured back towards the rest of the Avengers.

"I… I don't know—"

"May as well get it over with," Coulson said from the top of the stairs. The captain's face darkened.

"What?" he said, his voice tight. Coulson coughed into his fist.

"I'd prefer to do explanations here, but I'm guessing that wouldn't be a good idea," he said. Rogers pursed his lips.

"I think you'd better come with us, Agent Coulson," he said.

"Director Coulson, actually," Leo said. He backed off a step when Rogers scowled at him. "Sir."

"Don't intimidate my friend, captain!" Jemma said, smacking him on the hand. He looked down at her, and then at Bucky.

"I can see why she's your soulmate," he said.

They all went to Stark Tower in their separate vehicles, which was just as well. Wanda and Pietro stayed with them, so that Mack and Wanda could get some time alone together before the arguments started between the Avengers and Coulson. Skye insisted on being present, so she could make the ground quake if they threatened the director.

"And if the Hulk decides that you're the threat?" Coulson said as they stepped onto the landing pad.

"I'll get her out of there in the blink of an eye," Pietro said. Considering how fast he moved, that was actually very comforting.

So here they were, trying to get along, and Leo noticed that after staring at Coulson stonily for a solid two minutes, Hawkeye had disappeared. Leo could relate; losing a friend, and then have them come back into your life and expect everything to get better so quickly. Someone you had relied upon, cared about, trusted with your life. Who had in fact saved your life before. He knew how that could hurt. While he couldn't put it into words, he… well, he could try for Clint Barton.

He slipped away to the lift – much faster to say than 'elevator'; weren't Americans all about efficiency? – and spoke to the AI when he got in.

"Could you please take me to Hawkeye?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. Agent Barton is on the range; it is not restricted access."

"Good, good," Leo said. "Thank you, JARVIS."

He entered the range and saw Barton firing arrow after arrow into moving targets, a look of steely determination on his face. Leo was mesmerised by the repetitive movements, the stretching and loosing, the flex of the muscles in Barton's arms, the rhythmic thud of arrows hitting targets. He didn't realise he'd moved closer until the last arrow had been deployed, and Barton lowered his bow.

"You getting a good look there?" he said.

"The best, to be perfectly honest," Leo said. His brain caught up when Hawkeye swung around and stared at him. "Oh my God."

"I… I thought you'd be older," Barton said, examining him. "Based on when I got my mark…"

"You're really my soulmate?"

"You said my words."

"You said mine."

"Well, then. But you look like a teenager."

"No, I don't," Leo said, affronted. Barton – should he be Clint? – raised his eyebrows, and Leo sighed. "Grew up in Scotland. Cold weather does wonders for preserving the skin. Better than, uh… uh…"

"Than what?"

"The stuff." He waved his finger around his face, embarrassed as all hell that words were failing him now. "Make you look younger."

"Botox? Plastic surgery? Older partner?"

"Yes, yes. Surgery."

"Ah." Clint looked him over, cocking his head. "I hate to ask, but…"

"I had brain damage," Leo said. "Near drowning. My hands shake, and I have difficulty with words. It's getting better – Mack's been helping me a lot, he's my friend, you'll like him – but I still…"

"When you're nervous?" Clint said, stepping closer. Leo's eyes widened.

"Y-yeah," he said. "Stressful situations."

"Like finding out your soulmate is so much older than you?"

"More like finding out that my soulmate is a goddamned superhero."

"You're on Coulson's team, so you must be good at something," Clint said. "What's your specialty?"

"Uh, engineering."

"I never finished school."

"Doesn't seem to have held you back. I've seen you in action. You must be able to make calculations at an extremely fast rate, faster than me."

Clint touched Leo's arm, and he tensed. "Sorry. Did I—"

"Not much contact," Leo said. "That's all. I'd like it."

"You want me to touch you?"

He blushed stupidly. "Very much."

"Anywhere?" Clint's grin grew more wicked, and Leo gulped.

"Uh…"

"Wanna play with my arrow?"

"_No_, I don't want to play with your arrow! Not on a first date."

Clint laughed, and looked up.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, Agent Barton?"

"I'm taking Leo to my floor so we can talk in private. Could you make sure we're not disturbed?"

"Absolutely. Congratulations to you both."

"Thanks, JARVIS. Now." Clint placed his bow in its case and led Leo to the lift. "I wanna know all about you. Start where you grew up. What's Scotland like? I've only been there for a job once…"

* * *

***Realises that **_**nothing**_** has been posted today***

***Panics***

***Speed-writes and speed-proofreads fic for posting***

**Ship was suggested by KTT2123, and I threw in a couple of background pairings because that's apparently what I do. And a reference to one of ozhawk's fics. She'll know which one I'm talking about. ;D**

**Please review!**


	23. Dead and Alive (Deadpool x Phil)

"Dead and Alive"

There was a barrage of gunfire, and it was through sheer damn luck and instinct that Phil ducked out of the way in time. He rolled behind an overturned cart, and quickly reloaded. Pockmarks were forming in the woodwork; a few more lucky hits from the enemy and there'd be just as many holes in Phil, something he was keen to avoid today, preferably ever.

"Don't make me come out there!" he called, examining his surroundings for anything to use as an improvised weapon. Over the shots, he managed to make himself heard on the comms. "May, how far out are you?"

"Forty-five seconds."

"Right. I may not have that long."

"Boss, I made a potentially terrible call," Hunter said. Phil could almost hear him wincing.

"What was that?"

"Got a call this morning from an old acquaintance looking for work."

"And?" Phil poked his head around, and it was nearly blown off. He pulled back, and grabbed a wheel. As he propped it against the worst of the damage to the cart, Hunter continued.

"I told him where we'd be, only this came up, and—"

"Is he in danger?" Phil said. That was the last thing he needed; another civilian to take care of. Unless, knowing Hunter's former line of work, it was an assassin. Oh, goody.

"No, but—"

There was the ping of bullets meeting metal, multiple pings. Phil wondered, for a crazy moment, whether they had a visitor from Asgard who was deflecting the bullets. He peeked over the top of the cart, and his eyes widened.

A man with two swords, moving so fast that he was blocking every single damn bullet headed Phil's way. When the enemy seemed to run out of bullets, the man then took them all on, swiping and slashing and kicking, until they were all the ground and the swords – katanas? – were dripping with blood.

Katanas. Jesus Christ.

"Your friend is _Deadpool_?" he hissed into the comm. unit.

"Acquaintance, boss, not friend."

"That doesn't make me feel any better. He's a loose cannon."

"Who just saved your ass," May said, and Phil noticed that the `jet was finally hovering near them. Phil sighed, and figured he should at least say thank you. He approached Deadpool, and opened his mouth.

"Hell of a ride you've got there," Deadpool said, pointing at the plane as it landed. "At least I'm guessing it's yours, if you're the guy I think you are. I've heard a lot about you, and it'd be great if… holy shit, you're injured!" Phil looked down dazedly, and saw that he'd caught at least one bullet to the side. "Okay, hold onto your hat… you know, if you were wearing one."

Phil gasped in pain as Deadpool pulled him close, and then teleported them – damn, he'd forgotten that one – onto the plane. Skye yelped when they appeared.

"You might wanna get him some help," Deadpool said. "Since there's blood, and I'm pretty sure it's his."

"I've got you, DC," Skye said, supporting him. "Let's get you to Simmons."

"Wade, you really have the best and worst timing," Phil heard Hunter say.

"Nice to see you, too, Hunter. That was your boss, right? I like him. Doesn't say much, which means more for me! Do you think he likes me? I kinda saved his life back there, so I really hope he doesn't die now. But you said he came back to life or something, didn't you?"

Phil massaged the side of his head, a migraine already forming.

"We've got a problem," he mumbled.

"Yeah, you got shot," Skye said. "That's not a fun thing."

"Not that. Deadpool."

"Deadpool? That guy is Wade Wilson?"

"Seems so," Phil said. Simmons followed them into the room as Skye helped him lie back on the bed. She began to undo his shirt, which was just as well, because his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

"If he's joining the bus crew, I think we're all gonna need spare earplugs," she remarked.

"His voice isn't that bad."

"But does he ever shut up? I seriously don't think he took a breath. At all."

"Just get these off, sir," Simmons said, helping Phil strip to the waistline. His tie was undamaged, which was good, because Phil customised them himself.

"Well, if this is the kind of service we get around here, I'd love to join up," Deadpool said from the door, looking over everyone in the room. Hunter sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Not right now," he said. "I'll get you a drink. Stop bothering them."

"Damn, if all your crew is as attractive as this, you won't even have to pay me a salary, Director Coulson," Deadpool said. "And you can call me Wade. Using 'Deadpool' too much sounds ominous, especially in the narration. I have a real name, you know."

Hunter growled, and tugged him away by the collar. "Not this again."

"See you later, Coulson, ladies!"

Phil didn't say anything. He glanced at Simmons, and then sat forward.

"You haven't seen my bare back," he said. "You might want to, so you understand."

"I'd prefer to repair that _hole in your side_," Simmons said firmly. "Don't move around."

"No," Skye said. "Actually, you kinda need to see this."

Phil knew damn well about the wall of writing that showed up on his back after he was resurrected. No one had recorded it, and the handwriting didn't match anyone at SHIELD. It was unusual for marks to show up so late in life, and Phil could only assume – judging by the average lifespan of an agent – that his soulmate might have lost theirs, maybe in New York, and then gained another mark. It wasn't unheard of for marks to form and disappear and change. At his age, he'd expected to be one of those blanks. The Leftovers, to use the slang term, those who were standbys for people who lost their original soulmate. The consolation prizes.

It was a lot of writing, and the first time he'd heard those exact words – and with that many, it was pretty damn exact – was today. From Deadpool.

…Not good.

"Sir," Simmons said. "That is a very long soulmark. Is it…?"

"It has to be," Phil said, sinking his head into his hands. The action pulled at his injury, and he hissed.

"Lie back down! That can wait `til later."

"Don't tell anyone," he said, flinching at the antiseptic basically being poured down his side. "I want him to find out from me, if it's really him."

"Okay," Skye said. "D'you want me to start making a report on the spaghetti western?"

"We are not calling it that. No spaghetti was involved."

"DC, when are we ever gonna have a chance to refer to a mission as The Spaghetti Western?"

"We might."

"In which case it'll sound even more impressive to have The Second Spaghetti Western!"

"Skye, go start that report. Or check on May. Both."

"Does the director of SHIELD have to fill out clothing requisition forms or whatever you call them?"

He glared at Skye, and she left, both hands raised in surrender. Simmons tutted until Phil relaxed and let her get on with her job.

* * *

Skye checked in the kitchen, where Hunter was keeping their guest out of the refrigerator.

"Just go and sit down! You're such a menace."

"You told me where you were gonna be," Deadpool said.

"Like you wouldn't have found us anyway."

"True, but this way you get to take some of the blame, and I'm not told off for butting in where I'm not wanted, so it's win-win!"

"Yeah, for you."

"But we've all heard you're on the side of the goody-goodies now," Deadpool said, throwing the water bottle cap at Hunter and hitting him in the middle of the forehead. Hunter looked supremely unimpressed. "So if I'm gonna redeem myself – _and_ make use of my talents – what better way to start, am I right? And you do have a seriously hot crew here. Look at this one. But hey, you got some blood on your shirt, probably from the director, smells like his, and wow, if I stopped and listened to myself I would probably notice that that sounds pretty creepy, but—"

"Wade!"

"…Yeah, Hunter?"

"Stop. Talking. Just for a second. I'm sure Skye wants to say something."

"Skye?" Deadpool said, turning to face her properly. "I heard a rumour that that isn't your name."

She swallowed. "If you're referring to 'Quake'—"

"I'm referring to Daisy. Can I just say, sweetie, that your dad's a real crackpot? And c'mon, this is coming from _me_, although I can't say all the stuff in my head's entirely my fault."

"Okay, yeah, just stop talking for a sec," Skye said, holding up a hand. "Nod if you're met my dad." He nodded once. "Is he still alive?"

"Yep, though it was a close thing—"

"Right, I'm gonna go talk to May. Hunter, please warn him about her. She'll cut out his tongue if he doesn't shut up around her."

"May barely talks at all," Hunter pointed out.

"Another quiet one?" Deadpool said. "I like this gig even more! And it'd be great if people could just call me Wade, okay? Too much to ask? How am I supposed to be redeemed with an ominous name like Deadpool? I mean, when has a good guy ever had a name like that? You get things like Captain America and Iron Man. Yeah, War Machine doesn't sound so good, but he was re-branded as Iron Patriot! Do you think I could be re-branded?"

"As Wading Pool?" Hunter suggested.

"Nah, sounds too much like a kid."

"He's your friend, your responsibility," Skye said, ducking out and heading for the cockpit. She needed to warn May.

"Acquaintance, not friend!" Hunter called.

"Aw, I'm hurt, Hunter, I'm really hurt…"

* * *

Phil couldn't delay it anymore. The look May had given him after her first 'conversation' with Deadpool had Phil blaming Hunter for him being onboard.

"He saved my life," he added in a last-ditch effort to get that look re-directed. Eventually, he skulked out of the cockpit and to the interrogation room, where Deadpool had been left for the time being.

"Don't hate me for this, boss," Hunter said. He was waiting outside the room, watching the door. With Deadpool's teleporting device, there didn't seem much point in security; but, for some reason, he was staying put. To win favour, maybe?

"May might not have gotten there in time, so I can't fault you for that," Phil said. "You didn't even know he'd show up."

"I try not to prepare for Wilson."

"I can see why." Phil sighed. If he waited any longer, he'd have to put up with Skye's eyebrow of what-the-hell and Simmons' eager questions about how it went. So he turned the handle and entered the room, surprised to see that Deadpool… no, he should probably call him Wilson, remained in the chair.

"I'd say it's nice to see you dressed again, but I think I liked it better before, except for the whole bullet wound thing, which seems to be fixed. Pretty young doctor there." Phil pursed his lips, frowning. "Okay, so I won't be going after any of your staff. Yet. I fall in love pretty quickly, so I make no guarantees. I nearly pissed myself when I met Agent May, though. Are you sure her superpower isn't silent intimidation or something? `Cause if so, she's got that in spades, and I've faced some mean enhanced people before."

Phil had come in with every intention of 'Hello' being his opening line. Something generic, so that Wilson wouldn't guess, especially as Phil knew not to react to whatever he said next.

His plans went out the window.

"I understand you're looking for work, Mr. Wilson," he said. Okay, not so generic, but it was something he must've heard before—

Wilson grinned.

"Well, what d'you know?" he said. "Wow, you must have the longest soulmark in the universe. Can I see, can I see? I wanna see it. Here, is this yours?" He pulled up his shirt, and bang in the middle of his torso was Phil's writing: 'I understand you're looking for work, Mr. Wilson'. He nodded weakly, and Wilson lowered his shirt again. "I knew whoever said that was either gonna be one of those polite baddies, or one of the good guys. I was hoping it'd be column B… though I don't mind if you're a little column A sometimes, too." He winked, and Phil's cheeks flushed red.

"When did you get it?" he said.

"Not long back, probably around the time you got yours," Wilson – he should probably be Wade now – said. "Didn't have one for… well, all my life. Kept waiting and waiting, and nothing happened. Fell in love with love, which led to a whole bunch of failed relationships with people waiting for their soulmate to come along, and happy enough to go with what Fate wanted instead of saying 'Screw it' and staying with me. And sometimes they just wanted to kill me." He shrugged. "When I woke up with this burning into my chest, I thought I was actually, finally dying. When I looked in a mirror and saw the words, I made it my mission to find… you." He cocked his head. "Heh. Funny expression, isn't it? Cocking your head? I'd rather cock your—"

"Back on topic," Phil said.

"So anyway, I started putting out the feelers, letting people know I was for hire again, in any capacity. Didn't accept any jobs unless someone said the words. No one's seen me naked since then, so it's not like anyone could find out what they were. Well, except maybe an extremely talented mind-reader, but now I don't have to worry, because it's you. I found you! You're my soulmate! Soulmate, soulmate, soulmate, soulmate…"

He began chanting it softly, and Phil feared for many things: his sanity, Wade's sanity, the health of everyone on the team. He pushed a paper and pencil across the desk and interrupted the litany.

"Just write something, so I can make sure," he said.

"Whatever you like, sweetheart!" Wade wrote those very words, and shoved the paper back to Phil. While he was examining it – and noting that, yes, it was the same handwriting as on his back – Wade began to hum. Phil looked up. Half a second later, Wade had vaulted over the desk and perched on the edge of it in front of Phil. He parted his legs and dragged the chair close with his toes. Phil put his hands up, trying to halt the movement, and they landed on Wade's inner thighs.

"Look, just stop—"

"I like where this is going, Phil. I can call you 'Phil', right? Can I see my words now? Can I, can I, can I?"

"Not while you've got me trapped."

"Oh?" There were a few seconds of blessed silence as one of Wade's eyebrows crept up. "I wonder where your mark could possibly be. Could it be… here?" He touched Phil's chest. "Or maybe lower?" He ran his finger down, dipping between the buttons to touch skin. Phil's face grew hotter, and he squeezed Wade's legs. "Wanna show me, or should I go the whole way?"

Embarrassed beyond all reason, Phil pushed the chair back and wrenched himself away from Deadpool.

"Okay," he said. "I'll show you." He shucked off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. Hesitant, he shrugged it down enough to show off the mark, without having to take it off or show Deadpool the front of his scar. It was bad enough seeing the entry wound.

Years of combat training nearly ended with Deadpool against the opposite wall when he embraced Phil from behind. It seemed he was shirtless, and Phil trembled. His hands began to shake again, with stress or… or… something, he didn't know.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Showing you how it'll be when we bond," Deadpool said. He tsked. "And I just got you calling me Wade. Have problems with intimacy?"

"No."

"What about the author?"

"Author?" Phil frowned, and tried to turn to see Wade. But his arms were strong, and Phil couldn't move. He should have felt vulnerable, and extremely worried that Wade was talking complete nonsense.

"Incomplete nonsense, unless you let me finish my sentences."

"Do you ever stop talking?" Phil said.

"Good thing those aren't my soul-words, because if I had a penny for every time someone said that to me—"

"You'd be a millionaire?"

"Nope. Still be looking for work. Most of the people I talk to I've known for a long time. The rest of them are targets I kill before they can even say anything to me."

Phil tried to coax Wade's arms away, but it didn't work.

"This is uncomfortable," he said. Wade nuzzled his shoulder.

"It wouldn't be if you took your shirt off properly," he said.

"I'm not bonding with you, Wa… Mr. Wilson."

"Call me Wade! You were calling me Wade in your third-person limited narration."

This was not happening to Phil. This was a very, very strange dream, and he'd probably been drinking with May again. Clearly he never learned his lesson about playing drinking games with her, if this level of weirdness was the result.

"I'm not bonding with you, Wade," he said.

"Here? That's cool. We need supplies, because I wanna do this the traditional way. Well, not completely the traditional way. Superheroes getting married? Disaster waiting to happen. Look at what happened to Reed Richards and Susan Storm. I tried to crash the wedding, but I didn't need to, because the silver dude got there first. But bonding with sex would be so much more fun. I promise, you can top me first. I'm immune from diseases, but if you want condoms, we'll get some. You got some? We'll also need lube. There's cooking oil in the kitchen, which I really don't recommend even when going bareback. Now, that's an idea—"

"I _mean_," Phil said, finally detangling himself from Wade, "that I'm not bonding with you at all. Not here, not anywhere."

"…What?"

"No."

"But…" He became uncharacteristically quiet. "Why not?"

Phil could list many reasons, but many of them weren't Wade's fault. He couldn't put any of them politely. Then he had his reservations about himself. Wade appeared young, and was effectively immortal, or so he'd heard. Phil was still fit, didn't feel past it at all, but was well aware of his own mortality. He and Wade seemed to have nothing in common. He couldn't say that the guy was annoying; Phil didn't mind the noise, to tell the truth, considering that his conversations with May were very one-sided. It'd be nice to be the one talking in only facial expressions for once.

"I… don't know why," he admitted.

"Then why're you saying no?" Phil didn't reply, and Wade's expression fell. "Never mind. I think I can guess."

"Wade—"

"Can I stay for awhile? Got nowhere else to go at the moment, and maybe I can help."

"Of course," Phil said. "Someone with your skills would be a great addition to the team."

"But not me specifically," Wade said. "Only someone with my skills."

"Deadpool, there's no one else like you."

Instead of continuing to chatter, Wade nodded, half-smiling, and left the room with his shirt flung over his shoulder. Phil sank into his chair, pulling his own shirt back into place, and wondered what the hell to do next. He had to find somewhere for Wade on base. There was definitely a spare room near Phil's, but would that be appropriate under the circumstances?

He was still thinking when Wade appeared.

"Can I have a kiss first?" he asked. He waited for an answer. Slowly, Phil got to his feet, and he tilted his chin up in invitation.

The kiss was soft, much gentler than he'd anticipated considering their naked torsos had been pressed together only a few minutes before. He closed his eyes to avoid Wade's gaze, and leaned into the kiss, parting his lips expectantly when Wade moaned.

Then it was over. Wade pulled back abruptly and teleported away again.

Lips tingling, Phil acknowledged to himself that it was much more complicated than he'd thought.

* * *

"What the hell did you do, boss?"

Phil looked up. It'd been a rough couple of days. The Spaghetti Western – and he could kill Skye for calling it that, because it'd caught on – had sparked something, and suddenly everyone wanted to fight western-style. They were no match for Phil's team; but it sucked to be called a heathen and barbarian for taking down the bad guys with one shot, and a spoil-sport for not playing along. It wouldn't have been so bad if they weren't photographed and exposed on Twitter. Skye did her best to pull it all off the internet, but pictures kept resurfacing.

Then Natasha Romanov somehow got his number, and there was hell to pay. They were on their way to New York when Hunter cornered him in his office.

"What do you mean?" Phil said, head resting on his folded arms. He didn't care enough to sit up straight at the moment. "What're they saying now?"

"It's what _he's_ not saying that worries me. How did you threaten him? I think you could take out a patent on getting Wade Wilson to stop talking."

"He's stopped talking?" Phil asked. He hadn't been near Deadpool since they last spoke, only seeing him in the distance during one of the fights. He was honestly expecting the merc to leave any day now. He probably would after he met the Avengers.

"It's a miracle. It also scares me. What did you say to him?"

Phil sighed, and sat back. Better than getting hell from May for ruining his posture.

"We're soulmates."

Hunter laughed for half a minute. Phil didn't react, and the laughter petered out.

"You're serious," Hunter said. "You and Wade Wilson… are _soulmates_?"

"You heard me."

Hunter stared at him. "Either you shagged him into submission – which I don't even want to think about – or you rejected him."

"The second one."

"You… you know that he's wanted a soulmate forever, right?"

"He's been alive for a long time—"

"No, no. If you get him onto the topic of soulmates he'll nearly talk your ears off with tales of searching until he finds The One, and guarantees that it'll happen one day. He's incredibly susceptible to anything he sees as reciprocation. Even a smile is enough to make him think he has a chance. I can't think how he'd take it if he thought there wasn't one, and from his _soulmate_." Hunter shook his head, and glanced at Phil. "Why did you turn him down?"

"My reasons seem pretty flimsy in hindsight," he confessed. "But I can't figure out why Fate thinks we would fit together."

"You sure as hell won't find out sitting around by yourself!"

"Okay, okay," Phil said, waving Hunter out. "Just… give me a few minutes to myself. Do you know where he is?"

"Probably the common area. Just because he isn't talking doesn't mean he's going to be anti-social."

"I'll be there soon."

* * *

Phil had barely spent five minutes total in Wade Wilson's presence, but even he could see the difference in the mercenary. He was slouching in a chair, arms crossed, and watching everyone else in the room with an settling intensity. Even May kept glancing at him. Wade was tense, but there was a chance that he'd heard Phil coming, if his senses really were strong enough. Could he hear Phil's heartbeat speeding up as he walked closer?

"Can I have a word with you?" he asked. Wade looked up at him, but didn't speak. "I was… I shouldn't have." He took a calming breath. Deadpool was still giving him nothing to work with. "I think… I'd prefer a different way to stop that mouth of yours from running off."

Wade's eyebrows twitched upwards. Quickly losing patience, Phil grabbed him by the shirtfront and dragged him up into a kiss. There. That'd loosen his tongue. He was rewarded when Wade stood up and pulled him close. There was a moment when everything shifted, and Phil blinked when the kiss was broken. They were in his office. He didn't even know that Wade knew where it was.

He waited for the talking to start again, but it didn't come. Wade looked unsure, only holding Phil's arms loosely. He opened his mouth, then shut it again.

"I was stupid," Phil said. "I couldn't see why we'd be paired. We're so different. But I guess… I only know what other people have said about you. I shouldn't have just relied on rumours to judge your character and personality." He stroked the back of Wade's head, running his fingers through the short hairs. "I died for about five days. When I came back, I had a soulmark. I'd never had one before, and I had no idea what I was supposed to do when I met you. I thought I'd know, but instead I screwed everything up because I… didn't expect you to want me."

Wade still didn't say anything, and Phil let his hand drop. He stepped back, his heart sinking. He really had screwed up.

Before he could move any further, Wade cupped his face and kissed him again. Not prepared to waste any more time, Phil kissed back, running his hands over Wade's chest and down to the edge of his shirt.

"Not gonna say anything?" he whispered.

Wade raised an eyebrow and smirked, challenging. 'Make me', he was saying.

Challenge accepted.

"Okay, then," Phil said. He pushed Wade against the wall and pulled his shirt up. He licked the soulmark, and Wade groaned deeply. "Still no words? Guess I'm gonna have to try harder. Of course," he blinked innocently when Wade scowled at him, "if you want me to take you to my quarters so we could bond… you only have to ask."

* * *

Wade talked a lot, and it wasn't just dirty talk, or describing what he was doing to Phil. In fact, the only time he stopped chattering was when they bonded. It was a hell of a moment, becoming tied to someone like that. At first, Phil worried that he'd regret it, moving so quickly when they barely knew each other; but when it happened, it felt like the most natural thing, and he didn't know why people bonded less than they used to. It was more permanent than marriage, yet despite being tied to Deadpool, one of the most unstable people Phil had ever met, he'd never felt more stable in his life. He felt connected to Wade by something words could never describe. The soul.

"I feel whole again," Wade murmured against Phil's shoulder as they rested afterwards. It was physically exhausting, warm with an edge of pain, and then the most comforting, peaceful feeling when the bond settled. Phil held Wade's arm over his.

"Now I know what was missing," he said.

"When am I allowed to say I love you?"

Phil peered over his shoulder, and arched his eyebrows.

"Whenever you want, sweetheart," he said.

"You might get sick of hearing it."

"I don't think I will."

"You'll probably want to stuff a gag in my mouth or something."

"I'd prefer to kiss you if I want to keep you quiet. Or kiss you because I want to." He snuggled back further. "Because I love you."

"You love me? I'm kinda concerned that I've passed on the crazy to you now."

Phil laughed softly. "You're forgetting I know all about you, thanks to the bond."

"And you found something to love."

"Mmm. Everything." Wade was silent. "Talk, please. I like hearing you talk."

"What the… _why_? Shit, I wasn't gonna use italics. The author hates writing the code, even though she now knows that there's a _way_ around it."

Phil rolled his eyes. He wasn't going there. "The noise stops my mind going to the dark places. It's a distraction, a good one. It gives me something nicer to concentrate on."

When he checked again, Wade was smiling broadly.

"Well, you keep rendering me speechless," he said.

"Not entirely. You were quite vocal before."

"You're damn talented, that's why. I'm pretty sure everyone heard us."

"You're worth it, Wade."

Wade growled and rolled Phil onto his back. Phil laughed, running his hands up and down his soulmate's biceps as Wade kissed down his chest.

"Gonna take care of you," Wade said. "Be whatever you want." He mouthed the sensitive scar. "Never let you get hurt again if I can help it."

"I'll never let them get to you," Phil said. "They'll never tamper with your mind again."

"I've got my soulmate to keep me sane. Well. Sane as I could ever be."

"Here." Phil pushed Wade onto his back. "You're the soulmate of the director of New SHIELD. I'm the soulmate of the dangerous and immortal Deadpool. We're untouchable. No one with any amount of sense or intelligence would dare go after either of us. Anyone who made that kind of mistake is either extremely unlucky or extremely stupid."

"Now who's talking a lot?"

"Hmm. You're right. I could be doing something better with my mouth." He grinned wickedly at Wade, whose eyes darkened. "I'll leave the talking to you."

* * *

**This arose from a conversation involving who might have been Phil's mysterious benefactor and soulmate in 'Notes'. AnnaDruvez suggested the mercenaries Victor Creed and Wade Wilson. Until I can figure out how to write Phil/Creed – if ever – you're getting Deadpool. And I never knew how much fun it was to make the characters bitch about me! Mwah-ha-ha-ha! This has changed my **_**life**_**!**

…**Ehem.**

**Please review! And no, I'm not going to suddenly start writing Wade Wilson all over the place, because my gods, the amount of monologue-ing and fourth wall-breaking. I hope he didn't seem too out-of-character for a bit there. He'd been without a soulmark for decades, and was then rejected by his soulmate when they finally met, without being given any reasons, allowing him to assume the worst. Ouch.**


	24. Reunion (Jane x Jemma)

"Reunion"

"I told you, it isn't a school reunion," Jemma said, her pencil tapping against the tabletop. "Not like in the films. I shouldn't even be there, really. Why am I going? I was studying for university before any of my classmates graduated. I fell out of touch with them when I left high school three years early. Who would even remember to invite me?"

"It's still a reunion," Bruce said.

"Yes, but I didn't graduate with them."

"No. But you started school with them, and that's what they're celebrating, according to the invitation."

She sniffed. "I wish I'd never shown you that thing, now."

"Only because I accepted on your behalf."

"But it _wasn't_ on my behalf, Bruce! I didn't want to go—"

"Ever since your team took cover here, you've been stuck with people much older than you," Bruce pointed out. "Barring Skye – who's usually training – and Fitz – who you're still avoiding for some reason – must of the people in this building are least five years your senior."

"It doesn't feel like it."

"No, because you're a genius and an old soul. You've found kindred spirits here."

Jemma smiled to herself. "Thank you."

"Not a problem."

"Would you like to be my date? You said I'd be taking a plus one."

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to go alone," he said, looking at her sternly over the top of his spectacles. "You should take a field agent."

"It's in England; they can't be spared! And I've had some training."

"Take someone with you. At least they'll have your six."

"It just sounds awkward when you say that."

"Not as awkward as you."

She sighed, and slumped on the bench. Bruce looked amused, and she glared at him half-heartedly.

"I want my soulmate to take me," she said.

"I know you do."

"…It would be nice to know who it is."

"Yeah, you kind of need to get that obstacle out of the way." She groaned. "Why don't you ask Jane Foster? She's not with Thor anymore, but she's always around, and I've seen you looking at her."

"My crush is purely professional," Jemma said, straightening up. "I'll have you know—"

"Her field of science has nothing to do with yours."

"Well… well, it's become relevant of late, hasn't it?"

"It's nothing to do with her pixie-like features?"

Her jaw dropped. "Have you been reading my diary?"

"You keep a diary?"

"Yes!"

"Actually, I heard you saying it one day, while you were looking at her. Ogling her, really. Is it all that safe to write down everything you've said during the day?"

"It keeps my memory sharp."

He shrugged, and adjusted his microscope. "Why don't you email her, at least?"

"Why don't you? You have such fun handling my mail."

Bruce snorted. "If you can't take your soulmate with you, take whoever you'd like."

"You sure you don't want to take a trip to the UK?"

"One, I don't think Tony would like me to go on a date with a pretty young woman, in case it got into the blogosphere. Two, I don't think the Other Guy would like it, or the party."

"I doubt it could get _terribly_ noisy," Jemma said.

"Will you have many friends there?"

"Uh… yes…"

"Science nerds like us?"

"Yes," she admitted miserably.

"Were you bullied?"

"Of course."

"Then you don't want me with you. Take someone who's not gonna Hulk out and beat up your enemies."

"I suppose you're right. Very well." She exhaled slowly. "I'll ask Dr. Foster. She's returning to London tomorrow, so I can meet her over there. It won't be too much of an inconvenience for her, then."

"Don't forget to visit your parents."

"I won't. I'll be picked up as soon as I reach Heathrow, no doubt."

Bruce frowned. "You still haven't told me who your parents are."

"Oh… Dad is in the British government. Mum works for him, though no one knows they're married, nor about me. She's always sending me messages through her Blackberry, telling me what they're up to. And my uncle… well, uncles, if she's in the right mood."

"Bring them over to visit us."

"My uncles?" Jemma said, horrified by the idea. "One of them alone would be bad enough, especially Uncle She… No. No, not happening."

He chuckled. "I meant your parents."

"Oh. Well, I'm sure they could get the clearance, but Dad's so terribly British, and Mum uses so many different names and doesn't tell anyone the real one…"

"I'm thinking it's one particular branch of the British government?"

"So, my high school reunion!" Jemma said brightly, changing the subject to something slightly less horrifying than the prospect of her family meeting her friends. "How soon do you think I can get tickets?"

* * *

Darcy was happy to give her Dr. Foster's email address. After the first email, she was told to call her 'Jane', that she would wear red, unless it clashed with what Jemma was wearing – which it wouldn't, thankfully – and that she was delighted to be able to help out. 'And see a familiar face', she wrote.

"Don't be nervous, don't be nervous," Jemma muttered, playing with her hair while she stared at herself in a mirror.

They hadn't been able to meet up beforehand, communicating via text and email. They had agreed to pretend to be a couple, since it would arouse suspicions if Jemma had an American friend who just happened to be in London. It was true, but they couldn't afford the risk of someone recognising Jane as Thor's ex-girlfriend, or even being part of the group who saved (and wrecked) Greenwich.

"I can't do this," Jemma said. "Bruce, I can't do this."

"Just wear the dress we sent you," Tony said. "Turn around so we can see you."

She approached her laptop and did a spin, so that Bruce and Tony could admire the dress over Skype.

"You look lovely," Bruce said. "How are you getting there?"

"Dad's sending an armoured car, apparently. Dr. Foster… damn it, _Jane_ is meeting me downstairs."

"You're not staying with your parents?"

"Stop fishing for information about my parents, Tony!" She half-smirked. "You'll never find anything, especially if you're looking for a Mr. Simmons. I used my mother's maiden name when I moved to America. We thought it best."

While Tony huffed and complained to Bruce, Jemma drew a comb through her hair again, and shuffled in her shoes. She'd broken them in, but her feet were still aching from the effort. She moved the chain of her necklace to centre the clasp at the back, and then picked up her handbag. She slung it over her shoulder, happy that at least the colour matched the dress and shoes exactly.

"Thank you for this," she said. "You've been so kind."

"Not a problem," Tony said. "We slipped some instruction manuals into your bags before you left—"

"Tony slipped them in, not me," Bruce corrected.

"What? I had to sign a customs declaration saying that I knew exactly what was in my luggage!"

"Don't worry, we didn't slip any drugs into the toys."

"Toys?" Jemma turned paler than usual, and sat on the edge of the bed. "I can't do this."

"You have to," Bruce said, pointing behind her. "The door's there. Your doctor is downstairs. Don't go standing her up, or she'll think you don't like her."

Well, that wouldn't do.

"Alright," she said, standing up. "Wish me luck."

"You don't need it," Bruce said firmly. "Just have fun, and remember that you save the world on a regular basis, even if it's just in small ways. You've saved lives. You have two doctorates. Brainy is the new sexy."

"And you're gorgeous anyway, so you're a double threat," Tony said. "Go fly, little bird."

Jemma waved, and ended the call. She shut down the laptop, placed a mother-of-pearl decorative comb in her hair, and then left the room. She couldn't keep still, moving from one foot to the other outside the lift, then inside, alarming the attendant. As soon as the door was open, she thanked him, and trotted into the foyer.

Wow. Jane Foster was there in all her petite, fiery glory, decked in a knee-length dress with a modest neckline. The material was a deep scarlet red, deliciously wicked, and she was wearing high heels with laces twining halfway up her calves. She smiled when she saw Jemma, and her knees nearly went from under her.

"Don't be nervous, don't be nervous," she murmured to herself, stepping down the last few steps. "Don't be nervous…"

"Sorry to say, but I think you're failing at that," Jane said, her eyes sparkling.

"I don't like to fail," Jemma said, when she finally unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth. Well.

…Bruce had seen both their handwriting, and he'd seen Jemma's mark when they were playing drinking games. The clever, conniving bastard.

"Really?" Jane said, her eyes widening. She looked Jemma up and down. "I'm glad it's you."

"You are?" Jemma asked breathlessly.

"I wouldn't do this for just anyone, not even as a favour to Bruce Banner-Stark."

There was no point to foundation if it couldn't conceal blushes. Jemma touched her burning cheeks.

"I've had a crush on you for so long," she said. "It's terribly embarrassing. That's why I haven't spoken to you before now. Didn't… didn't want to be disappointed when I found out that you weren't my soulmate."

"But I _am_ your soulmate," Jane said, taking her hands. "I'm glad, you know. I said yes as a favour to Bruce, but I would've wanted to say yes anyway, especially after he sent me a picture of the dress you were going to wear. I wanted to see you wearing it." She touched the silky green fabric, and Jemma shivered. "You look beautiful, but I'm looking forward to seeing you out of it later."

"Oh." Jemma ducked her head. "You look beautiful, as well."

"Come on." Jane entwined their elbows. "Is the car out front for us?"

"There's certainly supposed to be one waiting."

It was a long, black car, as Jemma had anticipated. What she didn't expect, when they climbed into the vehicle, was the couple sitting opposite.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jemma exclaimed.

"Hello, dear."

"Don't you 'Hello, dear' me, Mum!"

"Your parents?" Jane said, strapping herself in. "The others will be jealous that I'm meeting them first."

"It's only right that your soulmate meet us, first."

"Of course you knew, Dad," Jemma said, burying her face in her hands. "Of course. Why am I surprised? I don't know why I'm surprised."

"We have known for years," he said, eyeing Jane critically. "Why else do you suppose HYDRA hasn't been able to touch you?"

"Wow," Jane said, blinking. "Uh, thanks."

"Yes, that's very kind of you, Dad, but I wish we'd been able to find out _first_. That's how it usually goes. Honestly, I thought it was just Bruce and Tony, but _you_? Typical."

"When has this family ever done the usual thing?" her mother said, smiling her laughing smile.

"It doesn't matter," Jane said, taking Jemma's hand. "I think it's sweet."

"You haven't run screaming yet, so I'll take that as a good sign," Jemma said, still frowning at her parents. "But then you haven't met Uncle Sh—"

"And you won't," her father said. "Not yet. If you do, Jemma may never return to London, and we like to see her in person occasionally."

"I'm starting to think that your uncle is crazy," Jane said.

"Not far off," Jemma admitted.

"Of course, we will wait outside the hotel to take Dr. Foster back to her flat afterwards."

"Dad!"

"And I will be having words with Mr. Stark about the surprises he slips into your luggage in future."

"…Well, that I would appreciate."

* * *

**Oops. Descended into meet-the-parents territory quite quickly there. The implication is that Jemma's parents are Mycroft and 'Anthea' from the BBC series **_**Sherlock**_**. Ship requested by zandperl. Do we call it Doctor J-Squared?**

**Okay, so I had a job interview today, and I'm pretty sure the panellists think I'm a nutcase, including the one I've known for over a year and a half. I've been fretting about it for several days. Now that the interview's over, I'm just gonna try to forget all about it. Strange that the previous chapter involved Deadpool looking for work; that wasn't a conscious thing on my part. I'm just weird like that.**

**Please review!**


	25. On Fire (Johnny x Maria)

"On Fire"

Heat exploded around Maria. She'd made the only call she could; to stop the HYDRA agents going after the children they'd been experimenting on, she'd shot barrels of gas as they passed by. As long as the rest of her team got the civilians to safety, she didn't care about anything else. If it meant she burned to death… well, obviously she wouldn't _live_ with that, but her job would be done.

The Stark tech had worked as it should. She couldn't do anything more except wait…

Why was she thinking all this? Wasn't she supposed to be dead? They were right near her, and sparks had hit nearby cylinders as well. By rights, she should have been up in flames, on fire at the very least.

Come to think of it, there were some cinders in her hair. The last thing she'd seen after she shot was a ball of darkness covering her. Coulson had never told her what it was like to die, but she assumed that was part of the process.

"Are you all right now? Did you get hurt?"

"No, no, I'm good, thanks, just a little smoky." She looked up into a familiar-looking face. But this guy wasn't Captain America. In fact, he was blocking the flames from getting to her.

"I think the fire brigade is on its way," he said. "I'd shake your hand – hell, touch you in any way, cutie pie – but I might burn you up."

"I'd punch you for 'cutie pie', but you've just saved my life, so that would seem ungracious."

"Just a bit," the Human Torch said, and he grinned. "My name's Johnny. You're SHIELD, aren't you?"

"Not anymore, technically," she said. "Or maybe. It's hard to tell these days." She brushed the sparks out of her hair, and studied him. "I sure as hell can't tell whether the universe likes me or hates me."

"Go for liking you. I know I'm enjoying this. I'd crack some joke about you being hot, but I like my face. Even if I _apparently_ look like Captain America."

"Only until you open your mouth and start talking."

"So what's your name… hmm, sweetness?"

"Is that a guess or a nickname?"

"You'll only get nicknames until you give me your real one."

Maria sighed, and then coughed. She was low down, but smoke inhalation was still a possibility. She grabbed her comm. unit.

"My name's Maria Hill," she said told him.

"You're Commander Hill?"

"Yep." She switched on the unit and held it to her mouth. "Can someone put out the fire in here? I can't get out until there's a clear path."

"You're still alive?" Clint said.

"Someone called in the Fantastic Four, apparently."

"What Fantastic Four?" Johnny muttered. "Ben got in the reversal machine and is back to his normal, grumpy self. Susan and Reed have their baby to look after. It's just me, so I figured I'd tail you guys, since you get all the cool stuff now."

"Can we have this discussion later?" Maria said.

"How long's it gonna take for the water to get here?"

"I don't know."

"Well, since I can't kiss you, we'd better talk. Not as fun, but a little safer at the moment."

Maria rolled her eyes. "How long have you been stalking us?"

"Since Sue's third trimester."

"How old is the baby now?"

"About ten months old."

"A year? You've been following us for a year?"

"Yeah, and I've got a high body core temperature. How did you not notice me?"

"Shit," she said. "We're gonna discuss that later, as well."

"Okay. Let's talk about what you like in bed. And where your soulmark is. Wanna know where mine's located? If you're lucky, you'll get to see it."

Commander Hill wondered whether the risk of burns was worth punching Johnny Storm in the shoulder. Pretty evenly weighted at the moment. If he kept talking, the scales would probably tip, and not in his favour.

* * *

Maria was checked over for burns. She was okay, actually. Johnny had taken the brunt of the flames – which didn't hurt him, of course – and he was chatting away to his sister over the phone.

"I found my soulmate! Yeah, she's gorgeous. You'll like her. Her name's Maria, and I don't think she'll put up with any of my sh— oh, you're on speaker. Hi, Franklin. Hi, little nephew. You're gonna have an auntie, yes you are."

"Oh my God," Maria muttered.

"How's it going?" Pepper asked. She'd followed the fire truck to the scene, knowing by now that sometimes Maria and Natasha just needed to get away from the male Avengers after a fight. Since Maria's team was mostly comprised of men, that meant double the reason to need to escape for some girl time before a debrief. The women on her team climbed into the limo after Natasha, while Maria pushed away the shock blanket.

"Johnny Storm is my soulmate," she said. "He's telling his nephew that I'm gonna be his auntie."

Johnny was smiling as he talked to Franklin Richards, and probably Susan and Reed. It was kind of… cute. Maria sighed as he gave a little wave to the phone, before hanging up.

"That was actually adorable," Pepper said. "You sighed, so you have to agree."

"What? That wasn't a sigh. Not a dreamy one, anyway. That was an exasperated sigh. I only do dreamy sighs over Thor's arms."

"I can't blame you there," Pepper said, walking back to the limo with Maria. Johnny ran over to them.

"Where are you going?" he said.

"Back to the tower," Maria said. "I need to debrief with the Avengers and the Stark security squad."

"How sibilant. In the meantime, can't we travel together? I don't wanna lose track now I've found you." He beamed, his face as sooty as hers. It was almost endearing. "Since we're soulmates, so we should be spending time together. I'll keep my hands to myself. Mostly."

"How have you been following us undetected?"

"A neat little costume Reed knocked together for me while Sue was in the hospital and he needed something to do."

He pulled up a cowl from behind, similar to Captain America's. When it was down, it covered his face, including his neck, so that only his eyes were visible, and those were hidden behind a dark mesh.

"Engage cloaking," he said clearly. Gradually, the material became invisible. Or, more to the point, Reed Richards had somehow created a fibrous cloaking technology.

What. The. Hell? Why hadn't he told anyone about this?

"Disengage cloaking," he continued, and he reappeared. Once he was totally visible again, he pulled the hood back, and grinned. "But how could I not show up on your radar? Huh. Must be something Reed did.

"How?" Maria said.

Johnny tilted his head. "You mean SHIELD is now suddenly interested in his work? Pity that wasn't the case ten or so years ago. You and I would've met long before now. But then what could HYDRA have done with this?" He gestured to the fireproof _cloaking suit_. "I hate to think. The tech's better not shared around."

"I guess," she said, blinking slowly. "So you flew here?"

"Yep."

"Then… I suppose you'd better come with us." She pointed at him. "But no flirting with anyone else."

"So I can flirt with you? Sweet! You're all I need, anyway." He slid an arm around her waist, touching her back. "C'mon. If there aren't enough seats—"

"There's a law against riding in someone's lap," she said, frowning as Pepper snorted in laughter. Johnny raised his eyebrows.

"I hate to think of the number of times someone's used my lap to break that law," he said. "Wait, do you mean in _cars_?"

She was tempted to smack him around the back of the head, but she refused to do that to her soulmate. She despised abusive relationships, and the double-standard that men hitting women was bad, but that women hitting men was fine. The only time she hit a man was when she was sparring with one or fighting one. There was no place for gender distinctions in war or the workplace. As much as Natasha threatened bodily harm to those who pissed her off, Maria knew she felt the same way.

"No inappropriate touching in front of other people," she said, leading him to the car. Pepper slid in first.

"So inappropriate touching is alright in private?"

"No!"

"No… at all?"

"No… not yet."

"Great!" he said, gallantly waving her in first. Or maybe it wasn't so gallant; maybe he just wanted to stare at her ass. She wouldn't put it past him. "So you're not completely dismissing the possibility of us having a non-platonic relationship?"

She looked him up and down. She had no qualms about ogling a willing man. "I'd be an idiot not to consider a non-platonic relationship with my soulmate," she said. "Especially one as good-looking as you."

The wicked grin he gave made her pause, and her heart-rate doubled. Okay, she could see how he managed to get so many women into bed. That was a panty-dropper if ever she saw one, and she'd been on the receiving end of a few.

"Careful there," Johnny said, catching the back of her head before she could knock it against the car. "Don't want you to get hurt."

"Thank you," she said, sinking into the car seat. She shifted over, and Johnny slipped in beside her. He closed the door and then buckled in, his fingers brushing against Maria's as they met.

"As soon as I'm allowed to kiss you, let me know," he said, looking up at her as they raised their heads.

"Is that all you can think about?"

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I'd say something like 'Of course I wanna tap that', but I'm trying not to be that guy. Oh." His eyes widened. "My sister had a message for you."

"Let's hear it."

"She said 'You sound like you can keep him in hand', and she wants to meet you as soon as possible." He waggled his eyebrows. "I hope you like to keep me in hand. I can be a hell of a handful, so you've got your work cut out for you."

Maria's jaw dropped. She could see Natasha's smirk in her peripheral vision, and some of the other women were giggling. Pepper better not have given them any champagne, or that could compromise the debrief.

"I-I'm sure I'll manage," she said.

"Don't worry. I can be quite handsy… I mean handy, too."

"Both, I'll bet," Natasha murmured. Maria gave her a look, but it wasn't enough to rattle the Black Widow.

"If you're at all interested in being with me, I need at least some kind of indication," Johnny said. Maria glanced at her watch.

"We can talk after debrief," she said.

"Don't you think we should talk about it _before_ debrief… oh, not that kind of debriefing."

She poked his knee. He poked her back, which was fair, even though he was the one being annoying.

"Since you were there, I guess you should be in on the meeting as well," she said. "But no disruptive comments during the proceedings. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Commander Hill," he said, his eyes alight with an unnatural flame. She shivered, and looked away.

She was playing with fire if she played with Johnny Storm.

* * *

**Okay, another rare pair, like most of these. (Aside from background pairs.) Hazelnut28 requested Maria with someone, and ozhawk suggested Wolverine or Johnny. As it's been awhile since I last watched an X-Men film, I wasn't sure how good I'd be at writing Logan, so I went with Johnny. And partly because I thought it'd be more believable, and much more entertaining.**

**Please review! Uh, written in an hour?**


	26. Strike (Darcy x Rollins x Rumlow)

**Note: in this, Jane's still working in London, which is why they're still there. Thor keeps in regular contact with the rest of the Avengers, so they all know each other through Skype, even though most of them have never met, and haven't talked about their work all that much. Since they're all such private, secretive individuals. Unlike Darcy.**

"Strike"

Ten pin bowling was possibly Darcy's favourite new ice-breaker amongst co-workers, she decided. Weight-lifting without the onus of going to a gym, junk food on standby, casual competitiveness, and no hangovers in the morning. There was also air hockey, so a good time was had by all. Until she realised she had a flare for air hockey; then only the diehards wanted to play against her. On the plus side, the strangers she won money for paid for her next drinks, which was super awesome of them. She toasted them with her Coke from across the room.

They both had the tall, dark, and handsome thing going on, and the looks they were sending her were _intense_. Her girl parts were very happy about that, even though it was late, and the only guy Darcy knew there was Ian. Erik had conked out after medication, and Jane and Thor were getting their mack on, so Darcy had dragged her intern out for the night.

"Well, if I could tap guys like them I would die happy," she murmured to herself. "If only." The taller one smiled at her, sending a nice tingle all over her body.

By the time Darcy's team had won by ten points – thanks to her two unexpected strikes and a spare, in her opinion – she couldn't see the two mystery guys anymore. She sighed as she returned her bowling shoes. Her taser was loaded and close to hand. Just because she was in London didn't mean there weren't HYDRA agents around. Not that she was a threat, and she liked to think that Thor would totally come rescue her. And besides, Ian knew she was going straight home. They always texted to make sure they'd reached their destinations safely if they weren't going somewhere together.

After HYDRA-gate, these measures became necessary.

Beanie tugged over her forehead and the tips of her ears, Darcy stepped into the cold night air, and took a deep breath. She began to walk, and then noticed a couple of presences nearby. Before she could reach for the taser, she'd been pushed up against a wall, and a pair of lips were pressed hard against hers. She only relaxed when she realised it was the taller guy, and leaned into the kiss. When he pulled back a second later, she made a disappointed sound.

"I was hoping I'd see you again," she said, her hands flexing where he held them above her head. His eyes widened slightly.

"So was I, little girl," he said. His gaze trailed down her body, and she knew he was looking down her blouse. Well, sounded like he was her soulmate, so this was definitely a nice development, _and_ he was welcome to look. She turned her head to the right, and saw that his friend was staring at them, apparently stunned as well.

"You boys gonna take me somewhere?" she asked him. He grinned slowly, and her legs felt like they were going numb.

"All over the place," he said.

"Fucking finally," Darcy said, resting her head against the brick wall behind her. "Thought I'd never find you. Turns out you were in London all this time. But you sound American?"

"We never expected it to be you," the first guy said. He rocked against her gently, and Darcy moaned through her clamped lips. "This complicates things."

"It'd be a lot less complicated if you took me back to your place," she said. "I hear that sex is pretty basic."

"You _hear_?" Soulmate Two said. She really needed to find out their names.

"I'm Darcy, and yeah, I've only ever kissed guys to pass the time until I found my soulmates," she said. "Besides, been studying, then interning, then saving the… you know, never mind. Just tell me your names."

"Jack."

"And I'm Brock," the first guy said. Sounded kinda familiar, but that was often the case.

"Known each other long?"

"Years," Jack said. "We work together."

"Wow," she said. "I've got a lot of catching up to do."

"Where are your words?" Brock asked curiously. Darcy studied his face, and noticed that he had scars. The vanity of men clearly compelled him to conceal them, but street lights could be harsh. She tugged one of her hands out of his grasp, and stroked some of the raised lines, tears coming to her eyes.

"Who did this to my soulmate?" she said. Brock frowned slightly.

"A building," he said dryly. "It fell on me."

"Look, I don't know what happened, but it's no laughing matter. Tell me who it is and I'll tase them for you."

He and Jack laughed, and Brock kissed her forehead.

"You're too sweet," he said. "You didn't answer my question. Where are your words?"

"Well." She drew it out, looking both of them up and down and smiling cheekily. "I'd show you, but then I'd get arrested for indecent exposure. I'm really lookin' forward to our soulmarks meeting up."

"Think before you bond with us," Jack said.

"Yeah, okay. Can I do my thinking in bed?"

"We've just met," Brock said, lowering her other hand. But he kept touching her, and Jack pressed into her other side. Darcy blushed.

"But you're my soulmates," she said. "Can I see your marks?"

"Definitely not in public," Jack muttered. "Sure know I'd like to get you in bed, but if you've never…"

"Because I wanted to wait. I'd prefer marriage first, but you two are hot, and the way you're looking at me is making me all… Look, can we just go somewhere private? I'd prefer to get indoors." She shivered, hugging herself. Brock slipped an arm around her waist, and nodded at Jack.

"Our car's nearby," he said.

* * *

They took her to a nice motel, and Brock promised pampering.

"I'd better tell the staff about her," Jack said.

"Ask for extra towels and a robe," Darcy said. "Explain that we've just found out we're soulmates. They might send up some champagne."

"Last chance, Darcy," Brock murmured while Jack spoke to the staff, smiling when they called out their congratulations. Darcy ducked her head, blushing, and rested her head against Brock's hard chest. Mmm.

"For what?" she said.

"To say no. As soon as you set foot in our bedroom, you're not leaving until we've taken you in every position we can twist you into. You'll never be the same again, and you'll never want to go to bed without us by your side. You'll only dream of us, and we'll never let you go. _Ever_. I can't guarantee that a bond won't accidentally happen."

"Silly," Darcy said as Brock and Jack led her to the elevator. "Bonds are never accidental. You have to want them with everything inside you. So…" She entwined her fingers with theirs. "If you guys want a bond with me, it's gonna happen. Having someone who can find me anywhere when I'm in trouble? Could really come in handy."

"I know I want it," Jack said, glancing across at Brock. Darcy smiled up at them.

"Are we there yet?" she asked.

"This is our floor," Brock said as the doors opened. They walked down the hallway to room five. He scanned the door open with a card, and they waved Darcy in first. She threw her handbag onto the sofa and began to strip off her outer layer of jacket and woollens. She shuffled out of her boots, bent over and pulled off her socks. The carpet was divinely plush, and she revelled in the softness between her toes.

"Ni-ice," she said. "You guys have good taste in rooms."

"I'm prayin' you have good taste in underwear," Jack said, tugging her towards what she hoped was the bedroom. Sure enough, there was a huge bed. She considered running over and jumping into the middle of it, but that would be childish. Instead, she started to peel off her clothes, meeting their gazes each time she let a piece of clothing drop.

"I don't know," she said. "It depends on how much you like golden lace."

Jack's eyes darkened as Darcy revealed the matching set. It could be hard to find bras in her size, let alone matching sets, and it was pure coincidence she wore her fanciest ones tonight. Best. Decision. Ever.

"Want me to leave `em on?" she inquired innocently. Brock grabbed her from behind and pulled her back against his body. Shit, he felt strong. He was shirtless, and it felt like he was only wearing jeans… and that he'd gone commando. A glance down made her suspect the same of Jack. He smirked, like he'd guessed where he mind had gone. She whined.

"Why are you both still dressed?" she asked.

"I'm thinking you'd like a show," Brock said.

There was a jingle from somewhere. Darcy's head was still spinning by the time she realised that her hands were cuffed to the bed. Wow, they looked like real handcuffs as well. How kinky. And… holy-moly, Jack and Brock were tearing off each other's clothes between kisses. She remembered how easily they'd moved her, picking her up like she weighed nothing – which was flattering, to be honest – and the more muscles were revealed, the more she drooled. How did she end up so lucky?

"When you're ready, I'm thinking it's time you make the wait worth it," she said.

Jack smiled evilly at her. His eyelids fluttered as Brock sucked a bruise into his neck.

"With our stamina, you're gonna be begging for mercy by midnight."

"It's nearly ten now. You sure about that?"

"If you weren't untouched," Brock said, moving to the other side of Jack's neck, "we wouldn't go so easy on you."

It took forty-five minutes before Darcy was wrung out and begging, but not to stop.

"Keep going," she whispered weakly, her body arching.

* * *

Time blurred. Darcy had sent Ian a message from the car, and at some point she sent a message to Jane as well, telling her that she'd met her soulmates. Then she turned off her phone, and allowed Brock and Jack to drag her back into bed. Then the shower. Then bed again. They finished off the champagne the staff had brought the previous night, ate a few times, and before Darcy knew it she'd been with her soulmates for nearly two whole days. She was exhausted and aching and warm. Once it became clear that they were compatible, Darcy requested a bond.

"We want to know more about you," Jack said, holding her hand across the table. Brock was massaging one of her calves, though it'd quickly become caressing.

"Well, I'm a poli-sci major. I went to Culver. I work as an intern for an astrophysicist whose boyfriend's a god. Kind of. I'd say you should see his arms, but you two are seriously smokin', with bodies that defy description. Seriously. Words could not do you justice."

"Even the scars?" Brock asked. They both had them, though Brock's were worse. Darcy wasn't ashamed to admit that she'd shed some tears over seeing that they'd been hurt like that before, and had vowed revenge against whoever had hurt them.

"Out line of work," Jack had said, which didn't make it any better. Now, she bit her lips.

"I know you're both strong, capable guys," she said. "But I just wanna protect you from harm. I wish you'd let me be your avenger. I have people I can ask for tips."

They laughed again, and instead told her about their childhoods. Both orphans, but they didn't meet again until they started working in security. Darcy figured that it was a good enough explanation for the scars – probably the same kinda thing spies got – but she still wanted to make everything better, and said as much.

Brock yanked her into his lap, and fifteen minutes later the three of them bonded completely, no more barriers and no holding back.

* * *

Darcy was kinda proud. And sore and tired, but mostly proud. She'd been the last to wake the last couple of mornings, but it seemed that bonding had really taken it out of her soulmates. Maybe higher muscle mass caused it to hit them stronger? Glowing with satisfaction, she took a picture of them on her phone and sent it to Jane, gloating that she'd bonded with her soulmates and that it was the best thing ever. They hadn't woken up yet, so their thoughts were quiet.

Gently, she kissed each of them on the top of the head, and carefully climbed out of bed. No longer self-conscious of her nudity, she went to the bathroom and gave herself a quick wash. They liked their scent on her, and it was no fun showering without them. She dressed in her clothes from the other night, picked up her phone, and went out to the main area to order room service. Brock especially ate a lot, which reminded Darcy of Thor and Steve.

A message came through on her phone, and she checked it while she was waiting.

Her blood froze.

'Steve's visiting. I showed him the picture. Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins work for HYDRA. Thor's on his way.'

Thank Odin she'd told Jane the name of the motel in case they needed her. Turned out she needed them instead.

Burning tears pricked her eyes, and she pulled on her shoes. She shoved her socks and gloves into her handbag, grabbed her beanie, scarf, and jacket, and left quietly. The elevator was already there, and she took it straight to the roof, knowing that was were Thor would land.

The rain matched her mood. She pulled the woollen hat down, donned the jacket, and wound the scarf around her neck. She should've left a note, but what could she say? 'Sorry, but I've just found out that you're the bad guys, so I don't think this'll work out'?

She was such an idiot. Blindly trusting the two guys who were supposed to be hers forever, who she was supposed to be matched with for some reason. But… but she was one of the good guys! She'd helped Thor save the world. She was friends with the Avengers. Sure, that made her a target for HYDRA…

That's when Darcy realised. They were watching her, alright. Brock kissed her before they even knew they were soulmates. What were they going to do to her? Seduce her then kidnap her? Kidnap her then _rape_ her? They must've been real happy to find out that they could manipulate her like this. All that protesting about the bond was just to make her want it more, wasn't it?

She jumped when Thor landed behind her. He opened his arms, and she ran into them, burying her face in his chest. He held her close, and they flew through the air back to the apartment they all shared. Jane was waiting on the balcony with an umbrella, and hugged Darcy close.

"I'm so sorry, Darce," she whispered. Darcy let go, her chest heaving with sobs. She felt terrified and violated.

"We bonded," she cried. "We b-bonded. I wanted it. I _asked them_ for it. What kind of… of _slut_ does that make me, that I just mindlessly went along with it because we're soulmates, without even thinking they were the enemy? I was so stupid, Jane."

"Hey, you were _not_ stupid," Jane said, holding her face and forcing Darcy to look her in the eyes. "There's gotta be a reason Fate put you together."

"What, because I can track their movements through the bond so Cap can kill them?"

"Not necessarily." Jane herded her into the apartment. Steve was there, watching them with furrowed brows.

"How do you feel, Darcy?" he said.

"Betrayed. Like I'm an idiot. I… I've been with them for days, mostly in bed or the shower, and I loved it at the time. Now all I feel about it is… is sick. I let them touch me—"

"You thought you could trust them," Steve said. "You had no reason to think they were HYDRA."

"If I'd sent a picture sooner—"

"I'm surprised you caught them off-guard at all."

"They slept for hours after we bonded." Someone joined them. "Oh. Hey, Sam. What's up?"

"Steve wanted to visit Peggy's grave," Sam said. "We're both okay, but we're more worried about you. I've been thinking, ever since Steve told me who your soulmates are. You're obviously never gonna become HYDRA. But what if you're supposed to redeem them?"

"Brock and Jack?"

"I used to think they were okay guys," Steve said, shrugging. "Rumlow was in charge, and we got along well. I never knew he and Rollins were soulmates, though. They sure kept that quiet"

"They were _hot_ together," Darcy said, her eyes glazing over as she remembered the shows they put on for her. But she shook herself out of it. "I don't know whether the bond is strong enough between us to be able to use it. They've probably woken up by now. Once they realise why I'm gone, they'll move on before we can go find them."

"Look, I visited you because we're all needed back in New York," Steve said. "Ian can come with us, if he wants to. Tony's sending a jet to Gatwick. As soon as we're ready, we can go."

"HYDRA knows we're in London," Darcy said. "At least we're aware of that now. The only good thing to come from this."

"They won't hurt you, Darcy," Sam said. "Especially now you're bonded. Physically, they can't.

"Physically," she whispered. "Not what I'm worried about."

But she should've been.

* * *

_Eight months later_

The Avengers eliminated most of the HYDRA agents in the Paris sweep. Natasha and Clint were reassuring civilians in perfect French, Tony was bitching to Pepper over the phone about his favourite crepe place having closed since he was last there, and Steve and Thor were holding Rollins and Rumlow in custody. They were the only agents still alive, and for good reason.

"First you're gonna tell us everything you know about HYDRA's remaining operations," Steve said.

"Of course," Brock replied.

"And then you'll be… What?"

"We'll tell you everything," Rollins confirmed.

"…Why?"

"Because God knows we've been waiting long enough for you guys to catch up," Brock said. "Where the hell have you been? It's not like we didn't leave enough clues."

"Maybe we were too obvious," Rollins said.

"Maybe."

"You wished us to find you?" Thor said as they led the agents to the car.

"If we tried to find Darcy you'd just hide her better," Brock said. "This way at least we had a chance to… I don't know, make up for all the shit we did. Especially to Darcy. We should've told her from the start, but… everything changed when she said our words."

Steve remained silent as they nudged Rollins and Rumlow into the back of the car.

"What would you have done to Lady Darcy had she not turned out to be your soulmate?" Thor asked, glaring at them from the passenger seat. The men looked at each other.

"We were going to improvise, but the ultimate plan was to kidnap her," Rollins admitted.

"She'd never waver in her loyalty to you," Rumlow said. "The only way to get her back was to change."

"And if she doesn't want you?" Steve asked, pulling out from the kerb.

"We're bonded. It's gotta be doing something to her. At least Jack and I have each other."

"Well, she's been a bit busy."

"With what?" Rollins said, frowning. "Is she okay? Has she been hurt? We would've felt it, no matter how far away we are from her."

"You will see for yourself soon enough," Thor said.

"On the ride back to America, tell us everything we want to know, and anything else you think we need to know," Steve said. "Then we'll make sure you see her."

"As soon as she is ready," Thor said. "Although I believe this meeting is long overdue."

"The only thing that's overdue," Steve muttered.

* * *

Darcy chewed her fingernails. She'd said to bring Brock and Jack – she couldn't think of them as anything else, no matter how much she tried – straight to her as soon as they were in custody. She didn't expect it to be as far away as France, which had just given her more time to worry.

"Sit down and stop fretting," Jane said. "It isn't good for you."

"My stomach's fluttering," Darcy said.

"Not the first time lately."

"It's nervousness, not… the other thing."

"You're making _me_ nervous," Pepper said. "Just sit down, Darcy. I blew off two meetings to be here for this, for you."

"Which is really nice of you, but I'm pretty sure I'll be okay."

"Especially if they really have turned over a new leaf," Jane said. Darcy half-smiled.

"For me," she said.

"Who else? They have no idea about…"

"Bit hard to miss when they see me."

Less than twenty minutes later, everyone was heading up in the elevator. Darcy had sat down at the others' urging, her back to the doors, and winced as they slid open.

"Darcy?" Jack said. She looked over the back of the chair, and exhaled shakily.

"Hey," she said.

"Hi," Brock said. "You look good."

Darcy held out her hands, snorting at the cheesiness of the line, and Pepper and Jane helped her stand. She turned to face her soulmates, whose jaws dropped when they saw her.

"Yeah, having two soulmates, one of whom is apparently _enhanced_, does not take more than one round to knock a girl up," she said, indicating her very pregnant belly. "There are three babies in here, I'll have you know, and it's your damn fault. Are you gonna step up to the plate and become father material or not?"

Brock recovered first.

"Anything," he said, nodding fiercely. "Whatever you want us to do, Darce. Darcy."

"We grew up without parents," Jack said. "Like hell would we leave our kids without fathers."

"They'll have plenty of honorary aunts and uncles," Darcy said. "But since we're soulmates, the rest of the pregnancy will go a lot more smoothly if you're there." She breathed deeply, relaxing. "I feel better already, which sucks, because you two assholes were gonna kidnap me and… I don't like to think about the rest, but you were HYDRA, and I swear if I find out that you're still HYDRA I'll cut off your balls and feed them to you. And that'll be just the start."

"You're definitely the right girl for us," Brock said, smiling a little smugly. "Fate knew what she was doing." His smile dropped. "Why the hell are you standing up? Sit down."

He and Jack rushed forwards, and Darcy was nearly overwhelmed as they made sure she sat back down, supporting her all the way and pelting her with questions. Did she want a drink, food, foot massage, whatever men were supposed to do for their pregnant soulmates? Personally, she thought they'd been watching too many TV shows and movies, but whatever meant that she was gonna be waited on hand and foot by two ex-HYDRA agents, who just happened to be her soulmates and baby daddies.

Okay, so maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

**Ship requested by ozhawk, without whom this series of soulmate fics would never have existed. Applause and undying gratitude for ozhawk!**

**Suddenly-pregnant!Darcy seemed like a fun idea. And I've been toying with another chapter idea where I may throw in pregnancy for the lulz, as well as for some fluff. Nothing is more important in this world than love, and fluff comes with that.**

**Erm, yes. *Smiles winningly***

**Please review!**


	27. Green Flames (Bruce x Johnny)

"Green Flames"

Bruce groaned, stirring awake. He noticed an ache in his feet and hands, and glanced down. Blood and large shards of glass lay around him. Windows again. It was cold, and he couldn't see many buildings. On the top of a high-rise? Crap. How much damage did he do this time?

"It's not as bad as you think," a voice said. Bruce glared up at the shape above him. It was blurred at the edges, and no matter how much he blinked the haze wouldn't go away.

"Why am I having trouble seeing you properly?" he asked. The guy inhaled sharply.

"Maybe because I'm hot around the edges," he said. He supported Bruce's back as he sat up, and Bruce noticed that he really was warm. "Sorry. I'll turn it down."

Bruce stared as his soulmate – judging by his reaction, he had to be – came into focus.

"I know you," he said.

"Johnny Storm."

"The Human Torch."

"That's me! And you're Bruce Banner, aka the Hulk. You know, you should talk to my brother-in-law. He's a big admirer of your work." Johnny helped Bruce stand up. "I'd much rather have you to myself, though."

"Do you have any clothes?" Bruce asked.

"Hey, if you wanna be equal, I'm perfectly willing to strip—"

"No!" Bruce held up his hands. "No. I've gotta tell the others where I am."

"Babe, you're on top of the Baxter," Johnny said, and he grinned. "I could put you on top of the world, if you come back to my room."

"Thanks, but no thanks. Not in the mood. And Coulson's waiting for us to debrief."

"You've already got that covered. Or uncovered, should I say."

"Johnny," Bruce growled. "I think you've got the wrong idea about this."

"Actually, it's pretty simple," Johnny said. "We're soulmates. I definitely want a non-platonic relationship with you, because holy hell, you're cut. If you want me, too, then we hug, we kiss, we cry on each other's shoulders because we've _finally_ found each other. We eat, drink, shower, go to bed." He trailed a finger down Bruce's side until he reached the mark on his hip. "Bond. Enthusiastically. Preferably all over my room. My sheets are all flame-proof, but I wouldn't wanna get too hot in case I hurt you."

"Uh, last time I tried to have sex with someone, my heart-rate kicked up too fast and I hulked out."

"Hmm." He studied Bruce. "Could be a problem, I'll admit. Lemme talk with the Other Guy first, and I'll see if I can't convince him to keep quiet. Maybe the bond will settle him?"

"Or maybe the bond will give you a big, green alter ego," Bruce pointed out. "I'm not risking it. You're my soulmate, and I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

"Aren't you just the cutest thing ever," Johnny said, and he pecked Bruce's lips in a quick kiss. "Come on. Let's get you some clothes. You should fit some of mine. Failing that, Reed's clothes are much more flexible nowadays. Very stretchy."

"So where's your mark?" Bruce asked as he let Johnny support him over to the door. The Human Torch grinned wickedly.

"In a very interesting place," he said. "Inside of my right knee."

Bruce blushed, and tried not to react when Johnny brushed his lips against Bruce's shoulder as they made their way down to the penthouse.

"Give me a chance," Johnny whispered. "No one's ever believed that I'm worth the trouble of 'taming'."

"Maybe you shouldn't be tamed," Bruce murmured. "Birds shouldn't be caged."

"Gonna apply the same logic to yourself?"

"That's different—"

"I could burn up whole cities." Johnny turned Bruce to face him, cupping his cheek. "It takes control to stop the flames from taking over. Once I embraced my power, discovered just how bright I could shine, it was no longer a matter of calling up the fire. It was a matter of forcing it down when I didn't need it." He half-smiled, tilting his head like a bird. "I've become a natural at it out of necessity. I could help you, soulmate of mine."

Bruce stared at him for a couple of seconds. Then he leaned in and kissed Johnny, pushed him up against the wall of the elevator. Johnny gasped into his mouth and grinned. He let Bruce take the lead, whimpering and arching into each touch.

"Johnny, _really_? You're… not the one naked for once, oh my God."

They pulled apart, and Johnny smirked at his sister.

"I found my soulmate," he sang. "And… he needs clothes."

"Okay," Sue said, turning her back on them. "I'll let you get on with that. If anyone needs me, I'll be dragging Reed out of his lab."

"That sounds right," Bruce said as Johnny took him to his bedroom. "If we didn't have to answer to SHIELD, we'd go straight back to the tower afterwards and return to science."

"We haven't been back long," Johnny said. "I saw you climb up here and decided to introduce myself. I didn't anticipate that you'd turn out to be my soulmate. And…" His gaze trailed down. "I thought Stark's new pants for you were indestructible."

"Something's obviously gone wrong. They were supposed to stay on."

"Huh. Can't say I'm complaining about that, sugar."

"Sugar?"

"I'm trying out nicknames for you."

Bruce watched as Johnny flitted around, pulling out clothes and tossing them on the bed.

"Why do I need a nickname?" he asked.

"Something just between us," Johnny said. "More romantic that way."

"Romance? You?"

"Yep." Johnny fished out a new pack of underwear. "Haven't started on these yet. Here. Take a pair."

"Thanks," Bruce said, accepting one. "Just in the interests of hygiene."

"I doubt you'd fit into the women's lingerie I sometimes wear."

Bruce, who was trying to pull on the underpants, tripped in shock and fell into Johnny's arms. The man caught him, and their noses brushed together as their eyes met. Johnny swallowed visibly.

"Like that idea, huh? Bruce, c-can I kiss you a—"

He cut off the words with his lips, and hauled Johnny over to the bed. This much intimate human contact was a long time coming – in a manner of speaking – and he crawled up between Johnny's legs, peeling off his shirt and nipping all over Johnny's chest.

"Okay, this is intense," Johnny remarked. "If the Big Guy starts to interfere, let me talk to him."

"Can't let that happen," Bruce said, shaking his head as he tried to retreat. Johnny caught the nape of his neck and pulled him back down.

"He's part of you, which means he's my soulmate, too," he said. "I wanna meet him sometime… just not here. This place is fire-proof, not Hulk-proof."

Bruce wrenched himself off the bed and quickly began to dress. He noticed Johnny flop onto the covers with a huff.

"You said yourself, dinner should come first," he said.

"Not exactly what I said, but I could do with a boost of energy," Johnny admitted. "You know, before you tackle me again."

Bruce winced. "Sorry about that."

"Don't be. I'd like more of that, please. Just…" He sighed. "Yeah, let me talk to the Hulk first. I'll get him to promise not to interfere when it's our playtime. How's that?"

"This can only end badly."

"Or," Johnny purred, "very _well_."

"Do you seriously ever think about anything other than sex?" Bruce asked incredulously as he pulled on the borrowed shirt. Johnny's eyes darkened.

"I like seeing you in my clothes," he said. "Almost as much as I like seeing you out of them, sugar."

"Again with the sugar."

"`Cause I wanna sugar you up."

"Please try something else?"

"Uh… buttercup? Yeah! I'm gonna call you Buttercup. Buttercup Bruce. Bruce the Buttercup."

Bruce rolled his eyes. Life was going to be very interesting with Johnny Storm for a soulmate.

* * *

**Not very long, I know, but no time for angst-ing. Not while I'm still recovering from 'Don't Cry Out Loud', and I bet some of you feel the same way.**

**Jade01 requested this ship. I agree that Bruce could definitely do with some more light in his life, and Johnny needs someone who doesn't want to suppress who he is inside. It's all well and good to joke about 'taming' him, but he's an outgoing personality. Take that away and it would change his character.**

**I finally watched 'Origins' and 'First Class'! Yay!**

**Please review, all!**


	28. Cling to Faith and Honour (Phil x Creed)

**NOTE: I HAVE NOT SEEN THE LATEST EPISODE OF 'AGENTS OF SHIELD', NOR HAVE I SEEN 'AGENT CARTER', SO **_**NO SPOILERS, PLEASE**_**!**

**Warning: This involves Victor Creed and Phil Coulson as soulmates. I cannot emphasise that enough. It's not gonna be all that warm and fuzzy. If you don't think you can handle this chapter at any point, please stop reading.**

"Cling to Faith and Honour"

The only thing Phil could do was run. Bullets were having no effect on the wild-eyed, racing man-beast behind him. After all, Sabretooth couldn't be called a man, nor could he be called a beast. And from what Phil had heard, he was beyond redemption, beyond help. All they could do was try to catch and contain him before his blood lust found itself satiated at the expense of another innocent person.

The comm. unit had gone down awhile ago. Phil had tried tapping it, bashing it, fiddling with the insides. Instead he'd attracted attention from Victor Creed, who'd given him a head start, like a lion playing with its prey. Phil's heart pounded as he continued to run for his life. If he didn't have the slightest hope that help might reach him in time, he wouldn't dare give Creed the satisfaction of making him run.

"Come on, May, come on," he hissed. "I don't know, Heimdall? If you can hear me… or Odin… Thor… Someone!"

One warning snarl had started Phil running. He knew he shouldn't glance over his shoulder, but the path ahead looked clear. He peeked over his shoulder, and realised that Creed, on all fours, was definitely gaining on him. Hell, he really was just toying with Phil; he could move faster than that. If it wouldn't look like giving in, Phil would be tempted to slow down, gives his lungs and legs a rest. But there was no time for that. He had to keep pushing himself until he was spent. 'Never give up; never surrender'. The words made him laugh when he watched _Galaxy Quest_; right now, they were the only thing keeping him going.

Blinking sweat away from his eyes, he rounded the corner, passing trees, and saw a barn up ahead. Was Creed forcing him there? Were there more bloodthirsty mutants wanting to tear him apart? Was he supposed to think the building was safe and find out that it was the most dangerous place to be?

Or was Phil just extremely lucky for once?

With possible safety – or at least some kind of end – in sight, he put on a bit more speed, and was nearly at the door when he was caught from behind and shoved against the door with a creak. A hand was around his throat, keeping him off the ground, and he tried to reach for any weapon.

"Stop fighting this and we can have some more fun," Creed growled, the deep tone moving up through his arm and into Phil's body. Tears came to his eyes when the unfairness hit him.

"I never imagined it would end like this," he said, almost wheezing around the tight grip.

He had a sudden influx of oxygen as Creed let go of his throat, but caught him around the waist.

"There, now," Creed said. "Hello. Well. If I'd known you were gonna say that to me, I would-a caught you a lot sooner. Wasted a lotta time chasin' you here when we could-a been mating in the forest, or the field, or in here if I was feelin' `specially…" He ran a hand down Phil's front and between his legs. "Amorous."

Phil groaned at the touch. His throat felt sore, but he'd had worse before. As chases and near-stranglings went, this was in the top three, easy.

"You bastard," he whispered.

"I'm sorry." Creed trailed his lips up Phil's neck, a hint of teeth and tongue dotting the way. "I'll make it up to you, baby."

"Not gonna happen," Phil said.

"You saying you don't want this?" Creed said, squeezing. Phil moaned. "Because your body is saying you do."

"Physiological reaction to stimulation. I don't want you."

"But Fate says you're gonna be mine." He pressed Phil against the wood and ground his palm harder. "I've been waitin' for you for a long time. You're the agent called Coulson, aren't you?"

"Phil."

"You want me to fill you? I'll be doin' that, no mistake."

"My name! Phillip."

Creed smiled toothily, his elongated fangs more noticeable up close. Phil wondered if all his victims felt this terrified.

"We're meant to be a match," Creed said, both his hands behind Phil's thighs. "Which means," he hoisted him up, and Phil wrapped his legs and arms around Creed to keep steady, "that your desires match mine."

"I doubt anyone's kinks could complement yours," Phil said. He held tighter instinctively as Creed opened the door.

"Are you sure about that?" The door closed behind them with an echoing thunk, and they were plunged into near-darkness.

Soulmate or no soulmate, Phil didn't care. He had a job to do, and if he had to kill Creed instead of bring him in, then so be it. It wouldn't affect his life; maybe he'd even get a replacement soulmate who wasn't a bestial serial killer, who would still at least match some of Phil's dangerous, dark desires. God knew Creed could actually do it. Could hold Phil down mercilessly, leave violent-looking love-bites all over his body, make Phil literally scream loud enough to make the windows rattle. Take everything he wanted from Phil and give him so much back just by using Phil's body for his own pleasure.

Everything he'd tried to escape from because he was one of the Good Guys. Everything he'd tried to find in people who didn't resemble the kind of monster Phil's body longed for, who embodied his horrifying wet dream.

"I can smell your want," Creed whispered.

Phil struck. He brought his joined fists down on the back of Creed's neck. As soon as he was dropped with a grunt, he ran up the steps he'd barely had time to notice when they entered the room, and tried to recall what else he'd seen. There were a few windows, but the late afternoon sun was already dipping. He heard Creed's chuckle, his footsteps as he climbed up the stairs after Phil.

"If you were a bitch, you'd be dripping," Creed said. "I could take you before you had a chance to call for help." Phil shivered, making as silently as he could for the ladder up to the loft. He could kick Creed down from there, as many times as it took. It was his best idea so far, and there might even be a skylight he could escape through, and hope that May found him. "There's no point in hiding. Now I know you're my soulmate, the animal inside of me will pursue you until you're on all fours in front of us."

Phil shook his head. That was never going to happen. He was one of the Good Guys; Creed was one of the Bad Guys. Never the twain shall fucking meet.

"There's no point in delaying the inevitable, Phil. You're going to be mine, and you're going to like it, because you were _made_ for me. I wasn't born with my mark. You were created by Fate to complement my needs. I _need_ you, Phil."

He was up the ladder now and searching for a means of escape. The light was slowly going down. Creed could probably see in the dark; Phil definitely couldn't. His only hope now was that they were soulmates; Creed was unlikely to want to kill him. Hell, from his words, it sounded like he really only wanted what Phil would freely give if Creed wasn't the enemy.

He blinked, dazzled, when lights suddenly flooded the room. Help was here!

…No, it wasn't. Creed had sped downstairs, switched on the lights, and was now leaping up steps and beams until he reached Phil. He couldn't stand, but he steadied himself against the ceiling as he struck out with a foot. Creed dodged it and pounced. Phil landed back on the hay, and it nearly knocked the breath out of him. He felt sick when Creed loomed over him, nostrils flaring.

"Whatever you think of me, I won't take you unwilling," he said, trailing a long-nailed finger down Phil's chest. "Much more fun for you to be begging for what you want. Because you know you want it. Your head's telling you that you shouldn't, but a brain can be manipulated. People can mould brains; the rest of the body is honest. Look at your HYDRA and the people they brainwash. Look at the Winter Soldier."

"Not my HYDRA," Phil choked out as Creed popped a few buttons.

"No. And if they make the mistake of coming after you, they're dead." That was… mildly reassuring. And the dark promise in Creed's tone aroused him. Phil never should've joined SHIELD, knowing that this could happen one day.

Or maybe… maybe that's why he joined. Because he knew that it was the best and safest way to find the one person who wanted the same things that he did.

"What're you going to do to me?" he asked. Creed growled low in his chest, and it felt like it travelled through Phil's, to his very core.

"I'm going to mate you," Creed said.

"I'm not a woman."

"I don't care about that."

"I can't get pregnant."

"Maybe not, but that doesn't mean I won't stop trying."

Phil licked his lips involuntarily, and he saw Creed's eyes track the movement.

"You still haven't convinced me," he said. "No amount of good sex could make me give in to you."

"I'm not promising good sex," Creed said, leaning closer until their noses were touching. "I'm promising you the best you'll ever get from anyone. And if you're interested…" He murmured directly into Phil's ear. "I have a knot."

A heartbeat later, Phil dragged him by the scruff of his neck into a heated kiss. He wrapped a leg around Creed's waist, arching against him despite everything in his head screaming at him to stop. He whimpered again as Creed shredded the front of his shirt and hauled it off.

"Careful of the tie," Phil said, handling it himself.

"You wanna be tied down?"

"I wanna be _held_ down, goddamnit. You know that."

"I know everything you wish I didn't," Creed said.

"Please, Creed."

"Use my first name."

"…_Victor_."

"Whatever you want, Phil."

"Where's your mark?"

Creed's grin widened. "Not only mate, but bond. Better than I'd hoped."

"I… just wanna know… and see it."

Sabretooth pulled off his own long-sleeved shirt and bared his left arm. Across the crook was Phil's handwriting.

"Show me yours," Creed said. Phil hurriedly stripped out of his trousers to save those from the claws. His right thigh showed a spiky scrawl that had always matched Phil's mental picture of what his soulmate would be like.

This was exceeding expectations in the most heinous way, and he wished he could bring himself to escape. Creed said that he wouldn't force Phil. That didn't rule out heavy seduction.

"I'd never hurt my mate," Creed said softly, tracing the writing. Phil shuddered.

"I know," he said. Because he did.

"Unless you asked for it."

"I won't."

"Good. The only pain you should ever feel is want." The mutant leaned over Phil again and kissed the scar on his chest. His low growl promised death. "Who did this to you?"

"An Asgardian. Thor's brother, Loki."

"I'll kill him."

"He's an alien."

"He hurt my mate. He's a dead man."

Phil was strong. He was co-director of SHIELD with May. He could defend himself from most people, had co-ordinated superheroes, found some diamonds in the rough like Clint, Natasha, and Skye. He had people willing to look after him, and always reminded them that he would protect them just as much.

Creed didn't need protecting. Phil could never hope to match him. The display of protectiveness and possessiveness went against his field training, but it appealed to his soul, the one created to match this monster's cravings. He reached out and ran his fingers through the messy, matted hair of his soulmate, who looked up at him with suspicion. He traced Creed's mouth with his thumb, the mouth he wanted again. Everywhere.

"Don't stop," Phil said, his voice rasping.

"Say it again."

"I want it."

"Again."

"I want you, Victor. Please."

Creed scented him, his dark eyes growing impossibly darker.

"One more chance to back out," he said, sliding a nail up Phil's thigh to the elastic waistband of his underwear. Phil swallowed, breathed in and out, and let go.

"Mate me."

* * *

_Three months later_

Phil had dropped off the radar completely. Missing in action, presumed dead. Last known target: Victor Creed, aka Sabretooth. May smashed her fist against the punching bag again, making the seam begin to split. It was one of the reinforced ones in Stark Tower's gymnasium. After she broke one of the normal ones, she was restricted to Cap's punching bags.

After they traced the trackers in his watch, belt, and shoes to the barn, they searched high and low. Aside from a few traces of blood in the loft – barely enough for analysis – they'd activated the chip in his body. As with the ones in the watch, belt, and shoes, it had been dug out and left behind, only it'd been left in the tack room of the barn, along with a note written in blood, saying 'He's my soulmate. I'm sorry'.

Simmons had managed to analyse all the blood, and found that some of it was Phil's, and some was Creed's. There were barely any signs of a struggle, and none of the clues Phil might have left to suggest that he was being taken against his will. Either he was dead before he'd set foot in the barn, before the tracking chips had been removed, before the note was written in what did resemble his writing…

Or he was still alive and in enemy hands. Because there was no way Phil Coulson's soulmate could be Victor Creed. Sure, Phil wasn't entirely vanilla, from what May had observed; but not to the extent that he was a match for _Sabretooth_. No.

"Still no word?" Skye asked. May shook her head and delivered another roundhouse kick. "With Stark's help—"

"As long as Phil doesn't kill me for breaking protocol and telling them that he was alive," she muttered.

"What protocol? Phil kind of over-rode all that when he took over. Don't tell me you reinstated some of them without telling us?"

"His system was better," May said.

"Want me to get you water or something? No? A salad? A sparring partner who's unbreakable? Anything?"

May just stared at Skye until she raised her hands in surrender.

"Okay," she continued. "Just don't wear yourself out. You're the only director we have left."

A few days later they got a visit from Wolverine.

"I know you," Steve said, pointing at him. "Hey, Buck! C'mover here!"

"Yeah?"

"We fought together," Wolverine said, his lip curling. "James Howlett, also called Logan."

"And Wolverine," May said, passing the others. She shook his hand. "Thank you for agreeing to help out."

"Just the kind of assignment I'll enjoy," he said, staring into her eyes. May's grip tightened.

"You're my soulmate," she said.

"Apparently so, sweet cheeks."

"Do _not_ call me 'sweet cheeks'." He smirked.

"Just kiddin', Director May," he said. "Pleasure to meet you. I hear you have a Sabretooth problem?"

"You've managed to kill him before," she said, finally letting go of his hand.

"You want me to do it again."

"He's taken one of ours." She pulled out the note and showed it to him. He sniffed the blood.

"Definitely Victor's, and someone else's," he said. "Your guy's?"

"Phil Coulson. We're hoping he's still alive."

"We were still together when Victor got his mark," Wolverine said. "It matched this. Do you have another sample?"

May frowned, and handed over one of Phil's forms. He inhaled.

"Matches, from what I remember," he said. "Do you have a photo of Coulson's mark?"

"Here." It was compulsory, and one of the things Skye hadn't deleted completely.

"Hate to say it, but that's definitely Victor's writing."

May swore fiercely.

"Phil's a good man," she said.

"Victor's more animal than I am. He'd never kill his soulmate. Take what's his, but never hurt him. I know that much."

"So either he coerced DC, or…" Skye trailed off, glancing at the others around them.

"He'd never make us worry like this," May said, scrunching the form in her hand. "He knows we'd be concerned."

"He also knows that you'd kill Victor," Wolverine said. "Is Coulson the kinda guy who'd put his soulmate above everything else?"

"No, and _especially_ not a man like that," Clint said. "He gave his life to SHIELD, and for SHIELD. This isn't like him at all."

"And how well do you know him?" Wolverine asked over his shoulder. "Victor's appetite… is specific. If Coulson matches them, it's the kinda thing he'd never get from anyone else. He's not likely to give that up. I've only just met my soulmate, but I hate the idea of leaving her." He returned his attention to May. "I'll find Victor and Coulson if I can, but if Coulson won't leave Victor, I can't make him. Victor would kill anyone who took him away, and if he thinks you're in any way responsible, you'll all be in danger."

"We'll do anything for Coulson," Natasha said. The rest of them seconded that, and Wolverine hummed.

"Don't follow me," he said. "You won't like what you find."

"I'm going with you," May said. He raised an eyebrow. "I'm perfectly capable, and one of Phil's oldest friends. And you're my soulmate. You hate to leave me? I'm not too happy about the idea myself."

He scanned her body, and nodded.

"Okay," he said. "But you don't know Victor. If I tell you to do something, you do it. It's not about being stronger than you, even though I am, physically. It's about knowing my brother better than you do. We've been around a long time, fought alongside each other. Trust me?"

May nodded shortly. "I trust you."

"Good. Then pack. Absolute minimum. We leave in twenty."

* * *

Phil was curled up against Victor's side, his head resting on a highly-muscled arm. Hair tickled his nose, and he flexed the hand resting on his soulmate's chest. The scratch marks had long since faded, but flaking blood remained under his fingernails.

"Restless?" Victor mumbled sleepily. Phil's heart clenched, as it always did at the proof that his soulmate had a gentle side.

"Aren't I always?" he said.

"If you are, it means I haven't worn you out enough."

"We have to keep moving. You told me that last night."

Phil was trapped in Victor's arms, his favourite place in the world, and Victor squeezed him closer. Phil sighed.

"Wish we didn't have to hide," he said.

"We have to until they accept us."

"They can't accept us while they still think you're the bad guy."

"We both are," Victor reminded him. Phil nodded against his arm.

"We've done what we had to," he said. "I protect what's mine."

Victor growled contentedly under Phil's hand. "You're becoming more like me."

Phil was silent for a moment. "There's no one like you."

"I saw how you took down that AIM scum. SHIELD would never approve of those tactics. Even HYDRA would turn their nose up at that."

He knew it. He was aware that prolonged exposure to Victor had changed him. The more they touched each other, the more difficult it was to stop. Now he no longer shot to kill. He shot to slow down, then relished ripping apart his victim. The only comfort he gave himself was that they were going after the enemy. Sometimes Victor's enemy, but usually Phil's. Victor hated it when Phil acted as bait, but it was the best way to draw out their targets.

The bond had sealed their devotion to each other. They mated, they rested, they made love, then they searched out their kills. They used Victor's funds from his days as a mercenary to stay alive and on the move. They kept to the shadows, and stayed wherever Victor could make Phil scream without someone calling the cops.

Phil bought a lot of cough lollies.

"What about when they find us?" he asked Victor. "I know May. She'll find someone who can locate you."

"Jimmy," Victor said.

"Your brother?"

"He'd be her best bet."

"Will he shoot first?"

"He can't hurt me any more than I can hurt him."

"I don't want you hurt at all," Phil said, cuddling closer. Victor buried his nose in his soulmate's hair and breathed deeply.

"I'll be safe, Phil," he murmured.

"Let me talk to him first. If he sees that I'm unhurt—"

"Not by yourself. I'm not leavin' your side."

Phil nuzzled Victor's neck. "Gonna try to breed me again?"

Victor grinned, and rolled Phil onto his back.

* * *

Wolverine frowned as he read the StarkPad over May's shoulder.

"What's this?" he asked, pointing at the latest report.

"Ward's not the only rogue taking out HYDRA. This must be another ex-SHIELD agent with an axe to grind. Not that we teach any of this at SHIELD. The method's too consistent for it to be improvised each time."

"You sure it's one of yours?"

"Some would call this brutal," she said, flinching at one of the crime scene photos.

"Any of `em not HYDRA?"

"Of all the killings lately? They're from all over the place. Some of your people, but mainly… mainly people Phil's crossed." She frowned at Wolverine. "You know something."

"It looks like the kinda thing Victor would do. He likes crossin' people off lists. Might be doin' it to keep your man safe. Maybe Coulson's even helping `im."

"Phil wouldn't—"

"If they're still together, there's every chance they've bonded. The longer they stay together… Victor's beyond saving, or I thought he was."

"There's no way Phil could be corrupted—"

"If they're at an impasse, it's a productive one."

May sighed, and sat back. "I almost prefer the idea that he murdered Phil to the idea that he turned Phil into… someone like him."

"Just be prepared for whatever we find. From what you told me, he'd never go all the way to the bad side. But you can't expect him to be the same man he was before."

"He'll never be the man I knew years ago. Not after he was dragged back to life."

"Like I said, prepare yourself."

Despite his hard words, he took her hand and entwined their fingers together. May leaned into his side, and wondered just how much of himself he revealed every time he spoke about the relationship between Phil and Sabretooth. Would it be anything like that if she and Wolverine bonded?

No. Wolverine was more man than animal. Phil had gotten the other end of the stick.

* * *

They found Phil and Sabretooth tearing up two of the field agents Phil had trained. May knew just how angry he'd been when he found out how many of his protégés had turned out to be HYDRA all along. He seemed to be taking it especially to heart. Three other former agents lay dead and shredded around them. Wolverine held her back until the last two hearts were ripped out. She actually felt like she was going to throw up. It was rare to see this kind of carnage, and when it was Phil committing such horrendous acts…

Sabretooth raised his head, scenting the air, and turned his head in their direction. He smiled, all his teeth on display. Phil said something to him, glancing their way. Whatever Sabretooth told him seemed to reassure him, and they walked away, Phil leaning into his side while Sabretooth held him around the waist, talking to him and stroking his side.

"If I know Victor, I can guess exactly where they'll go," Wolverine said. "He didn't challenge us. We'll let them go first, then follow."

"What if we lose them?"

"We won't. Victor isn't running. He wants us to find them." He tucked her arm around his elbow. "Let's eat first, if you think you can stomach anything after that."

"I think a stiff drink's in order," she confessed.

"I know a bar."

"You sound like the kinda guy who always knows a bar."

"It's one I've never been kicked out of."

"Make a change?"

"Sure does, sweetheart."

All the alcohol in the world couldn't clear the day out of May's head. Especially when they found Phil and Sabretooth exactly where Wolverine said they would be.

She'd wanted to run in when she heard Phil's screams. When it became clear just what he was screaming, her jaw dropped and she felt a blush on her cheeks for the first time in years. Wolverine smirked.

"Either they stopped off for food somewhere, or Victor's stamina is better than I thought," he said.

"Don't sound so proud."

"He _is_ my big brother."

They sneaked up and peered in a window. Phil was carving his nails into Sabretooth's back, begging and crying for more. The head of the bed was banging into the wall, and the look on Sabretooth's face was like a hungry animal. May had never seen a look like that on a human being, and it scared her that it was being aimed at her friend. Phil, on the other hand, was arching off the mattress, messy and red and bruised. He screamed again, body spasming, and then relaxed as Sabretooth lowered his legs back to his sides. There was a slight glow from Phil's soulmark; re-affirming their bond would make it stronger, and drag them further under each other's spell.

Judging by the look of bliss on Phil's face, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Wolverine made her wait under a tree close by. An hour later, the front door opened, and Sabretooth stepped out, wearing a pair of loose pants and nothing else.

"We're dressed," he said. "C'mon inside. I'll bet your dyin' to see Phil, even after that Peepin' Tom business."

"That _what_?" Phil asked. May walked inside, followed by Wolverine. Phil was cooking meat over a portable grill, and he flushed. "Hello, May."

"Hello?" she said. "That's all you have to say to me?"

"…I left a note."

"Written in your _blood_."

"We didn't have a pen, and I'd already taken out the tracking chip."

"We've been worried sick. I went to the Avengers for help!"

"And my brother," Sabretooth said, scowling at Wolverine. "You here to try to take him away from me?"

"He's not yours, Victor," Wolverine said.

"Yes, I am," Phil said indignantly. "Just as he's mine."

"You could've called," May said, her fists clenching and unclenching. Sabretooth moved slightly in front of Phil.

"We've been busy," Phil said.

"Real busy, from what we saw," Wolverine added. Phil flushed more red than he already was.

"That's private," he said. "You had no right—"

"Not talkin' about that. Talkin' about those dead people back there."

"We're getting rid of the bad guys," Phil said, looking at May. "That's what we do, remember? Victor wanted to help so that you'd accept us as a bonded couple."

"Why would you do this?" May asked. Phil took Sabretooth's hand.

"Because we were made for each other," he said. "I was literally made to suit him. Don't you see that I need him as much as he needs me?"

"All I see is a _monster_," May said sharply. Phil's eyes narrowed.

"That's my mate you're talking about," he said.

"Phil, you have to come back with us—"

"No!" Sabretooth roared.

"I'm not leaving without him," Phil said, holding Sabretooth back from her. "May, you don't understand."

"Phil—" she tried.

"I love him!"

There was silence after Phil's pronouncement. Sabretooth turned his head slowly and met Phil's eyes. Phil looked away, but Sabretooth cupped his face and brought it close.

"Love you, too, Phil," he said. Phil's smile was wide and beautiful.

"How?" May said, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, May," he said. "But I'm where I need… where I _want_ to be."

"But what about—"

"Nothing. I'm sorry, but I need you to understand that I can't be away from him. He's what I want."

"This is dangerous."

"Phil's as safe as he can be with me," Sabretooth said. "I'd die before any harm came to him."

May pursed her lips. "I don't like this."

"You don't have to, May. It's happening. Just let us keep doing what we're doing." Phil held out a hand to her, and she took it reluctantly. "After it's all over, we'll come back."

"How different will you be by then?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I feel better than I have since T—"

He cut himself off, and May realised what he was referring to.

Phil did seem happier. He was passionate about something again, in a positive way. The way he'd been earlier, when they were taking out the enemy… it'd been a long time since she'd seen him so alive. It was terrible, what they were doing, but at least they were taking out the right people.

"Fine," she said, letting go of Phil's hand. "You have my number. _Use it_ if you need help."

"I don't have a phone."

"Get one." She pulled out her wallet and handed him a fistful of bills. "It's on me. Bye, Phil."

She ignored his look of mild hurt and stalked out of the building. Wolverine followed on her heels.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he said. "You'll get him back one day. Best way to deal with this is find the people they're after, get to them first. You heard `im; sooner it's done…"

"The sooner he'll be back," she finished. "Let's go."

"Mind if I come along for the ride?"

She half-smiled, glancing up and down his body. He certainly was built. "I was hoping you'd say that."

"Want me to take your mind off today?"

"Please."

* * *

It was the first time Victor had been this gentle. It was sweet, but… kind of annoying.

"This relationship was never just about sex," Phil said. "You realise that, right?

"You deserve the best," Victor said. "That's not me."

"The best is my soulmate. That's you, Victor. Deal with it."

He smiled, stroking one hand down Phil's chest towards his abdomen.

"Anything for you, Phil," he said.

* * *

**Creepy.**

**Title of fic from 'My Creed' by Edgar Albert Guest. I'm inappropriate like that, it seems. Anyway! This was the other pairing I'd been discussing with AnnaDruvez, and I hope I didn't scar anyone with the results.**

**I don't think I can describe just how much this took out of me. I sincerely hope that I never meet **_**any**_** of you, because I'm pretty sure I'd die of embarrassment based on this chapter alone. I'd get myself to a nunnery, but like I could stop writing fan fiction. And I'd end up excommunicated – or whatever we do in the Anglican church – if they found out the kind of thing I write. Oops.**

**Please review! I blame ozhawk for everything, but especially for May/Logan suddenly appearing.**


	29. My Scientist (Darcy x Jemma)

"My Scientist"

It was a dream come true to work in the labs at Stark Industries. They were shiny, and the equipment was so much better. Better working order, capable of much more than Jemma could accomplish back at base. Tony Stark had somehow discovered that Director Coulson was still alive, and kindly insisted that they all stay at Stark Tower for a few weeks while everything was sorted out between them. Bruce Banner – my God, _Bruce Banner_! – had offered to share his lab with Jemma. They'd started working on a project together, which he was now running by Tony. (Yes, he'd asked them to call him Tony. And Bruce was Bruce. Jemma tried not to fangirl over them.)

"Good morning, JARVIS," she said, checking her watch. "Goodness, we were up all night, weren't we?"

"You and Dr. Banner were deeply involved in your research and theorising. Others have come and gone. At least once you were provided with sustenance by members of your team."

"Oh, that's nice of them," Jemma said. She began to close down the programs and turn off the holographs. "Will Dr. Banner take a rest soon?"

"Mr. Stark will see him to his room. I will take you directly to your floor once you have finished packing up."

"Thank you."

She gathered together the few papers she had and dumped the samples in the waste disposal unit.

"Hey, I'm looking for my scientist, have you seen her?"

Jemma nearly dropped her things, and stood stock still. Of all the places…

She turned slowly, and saw a woman with long brown hair standing by one of the tables.

"Miss Lewis, you haven't been introduced to Dr. Simmons," JARVIS said.

"Oh, hey!" Darcy Lewis – it had to be her – waved to Jemma. "How you doing?" Jemma smiled weakly. "Okay, well, I'm still looking for my scientist, so I'm gonna—"

She couldn't lose her chance! Quick, something clever to say…

"It would be lovely if you were referring to me," she said. Darcy's mouth fell open.

"Holy shit!" she said. "You're my soulmate?"

"It appears so," Jemma said, trying to contain the happiness which just wanted to pour out of her. "I'm Jemma, though most people call me Simmons."

"Nearly everyone calls me Darcy. Unless you're Thor, in which case it's Lady Darcy, because he's cute like that." She pulled Jemma forward by the hand she was shaking. "And you're cute, too. Wow. A doctor, huh? I've heard of you. You're on Agent iPod Thief's team, right?"

"Director… uh, iPod Thief. Yes, he's my boss."

"Well." Darcy put her hands on Jemma's hips; the scientist's heart started to pound erratically. "Mind if I take you out for drinks?"

"Oh, I'd love t—"

"Dr. Simmons, may I remind you that you were about to go to bed?" JARVIS interjected. "You have been awake for approximately thirty hours, and you have worked for most of that time without interruption."

"Jeez, you scientists are all the same," Darcy said, steering Jemma to the lift. "Go get some sleep. I bet you'll need coffee when you wake up. We can get some later."

"But I want to talk to you," Jemma whined. Darcy laughed. It was such a pretty sound. Jemma sighed, and leaned against her as the lift began to ascend.

"We're talking now."

"Not what I'd like to talk about."

"Aw." Darcy kissed the top of her head. "I wanna get to know you, too, baby. But you need to sleep first."

"Darcy…"

"I love an English accent. Living in London taught me that."

"Mmm." Jemma rubbed her nose in Darcy's hair. "Would you like me to talk dirty to you?"

"Oh yeah. I'd love that. When you're _awake_."

She helped Jemma through to her bedroom. Jemma curled up on top of the sheets, now feeling her tiredness. There was no way she intended to attempt getting changed.

"G'night," she said through a yawn.

"Good morning," Darcy said, grinning. She kissed Jemma's cheek, and left her to fall asleep. The last thing she heard was, "Oh, she's so cute…"

* * *

After a very light, very _late_ lunch, Jemma sought out her soulmate. She could hardly believe that she'd finally found her. And for it to be Jane Foster's famous intern? Jemma couldn't have possibly felt more lucky. The woman was witty, beautiful, and shared Jemma's habit of knocking people out with handheld electrical devices. As far as she was aware, Darcy's knowledge of bio-science was limited, but that didn't matter. Jemma knew nothing about political science.

Honestly? She could use some of Darcy's light to beat away the demons of HYDRA.

Oh dear. HYDRA. What if they went after her?

"Hey, sleepyhead," Darcy said when Jemma entered the lab. She was with Dr. Foster, who looked up and smiled when Darcy nudged her.

"You're Darcy's soulmate?" she said.

"Yes. It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Foster. I'm afraid I haven't really followed your work all that much, but we have used your readings before, and the team was in Greenwich following your… debacle there."

"Dude, you were in London at the same time as us?" Darcy said, wide-eyed. "Why couldn't we have met there? So much wasted time."

"I'm afraid it was a bit of a fly-in-fly-out visit. It's just as well. We don't always deal well with alien technology."

Jumping out of a plane to save her team… Ward being taken over by the Berserker staff… Trip dying underground…

"You okay?" Jemma had spaced out, and Darcy was holding her by the elbows. "Jem, are you alright? You kinda left us there for a minute."

"Bad experiences, that's all," she murmured.

"Well, not to worry! I know a doughnut place around the corner. Wanna come with? We can have coffee, get to know each other, arrange more dates. We've gotta set up a custody schedule as well, so I can see you more." Darcy bumped her nose against Jemma's, keeping her attention. "You don't have to tell me about these bad experiences, although it makes me wanna go after them with my taser."

"We know it works on aliens," Jane piped up. "Go on, Dr. Simmons. Darcy's gonna complain to me if she has to wait any longer to be alone with you."

"You ready to go?" Darcy said. "My treat." She held out her hand, and Jemma took it with a smile.

"I'd love to go with you," she said.

She would never know what possessed her, but she raised Darcy's hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. Almost immediately, she realised what she had done, and gaped in horror.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what made me do that," she said. Darcy laughed.

"Looks like gallantry crosses gender," she said. "Hey, Jane. I think my soulmate's just as chivalrous as yours."

"Looks like," Jane said. Jemma clapped her free hand to her cheek.

"How embarrassing," she said. Skye would never let her live it down if she found out.

"Does that make you the guy in the relationship?" Darcy asked. "Because I'm cool with either role."

"Oh my God…"

"You're the one paying for coffee," Jane said.

"True, but I'm trying to determine who wears the strap-on."

Jemma's face flooded with red. "Can we please just go now?"

"Sure thing, sweetie," Darcy said. "See you later, Jane. Don't forget to keep up your liquids. Sports drinks are in the fridge."

"Got it," Jane replied.

"Come on," Darcy continued, leading Jemma back to the lift. "We've gotta go before Coulson notices that I've stolen you for the day."

"O-okay," Jemma said, flummoxed. Was she still asleep? Because her dreams were far less confusing than this.

However, the kiss Darcy coaxed out of her in the lift was real enough.

* * *

**I wanted happy fic for Darcy. Happy chapter between the angst.**

**So I'm sorry for not posting anything yesterday. I've been working on the next chapter, and it's proving more difficult than I anticipated. It's kind of grown out of control, and I'm not sure whether or not there's going to be a dominant pairing. There was supposed to be! Then stuff happened, and there was crying, and now I'm confused!**

**Please review. Shorter chapter, but still happy. It's the longer chapters which have the angst.**


	30. Nothing's Too Broken (BB x LF x TS)

**With a major side of Phil/Sam/Steve, because I don't know what I'm doing with my life, but it sure is interesting.**

"Nothing's Too Broken"

The first time Phil had seen that writing was on a pile of forms he had Tony Stark fill out; and the second mark was also familiar. Bruce Banner's, he believed. That made sense, as the men were confirmed soulmates seeking their third. Since they didn't officially get together until after HYDRA-Gate, Skye had already pulled the team's names from the web, keeping only paper copies for the purposes of maintaining some kind of records. But there was nothing online, and no way for Banner and Stark to find out that Leo Fitz was the one they were looking for.

"I can't lose him, sir," Simmons whispered, leaning into his side. Phil wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"We won't," he said.

"I don't know whether I can give him the best care—"

"Yes, you will, Simmons. We'll all look after him. Trip has some medical training, so he can help you out. Just keep your head, and we'll get through this."

"He never even met his soulmates," she said. "He wanted to, so much. What if he loses that chance?"

"Pull yourself together," he snapped. "He still has the words, doesn't he?" She nodded. "While he has those words, he'll meet them."

"But… will he be in any position to respond?"

"…I don't know."

* * *

Skye couldn't control her powers, and Phil couldn't scrape together enough funds to keep them all afloat. After the first time she was accidentally responsible for destruction of property, he decided that it was time to find someone who could help her, and maybe help them all.

"I'm surprised you didn't go to Xavier first," May said, sounding as amused as she ever could while Phil reluctantly placed the call.

"I can't afford to get Skye to Canada," he said. "I refuse to stoop to stealing."

"You've literally used up your life's savings for this?"

"Of course," he said, frowning. "Where else could the money come from?"

She frowned at him, and he held up his hands.

"Look, I tried the Fantastic Four, but it's just not poss—"

"Who is it?" Tony Stark said. Phil saw him tinkering in his workshop, and inhaled deeply.

"Hello, Mr. Stark," he said. Stark froze, dropping a screwdriver, and then turned slowly around. His eyes narrowed.

"What. The hell?"

"I did actually die, but protocol—"

"What the _hell_? JARVIS, trace the call! This is _not_ funny."

"Neither is world domination by an alien with daddy issues, but I gave my life to avert that," Phil said sharply. "Since none of you could get your damn acts together." May raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. "Stark, put Barton or Romanov on the line if you don't trust me. But I need to bring my team to you—"

"What team?" Stark said, and he snorted. "In case you were still _dead_ while everything was going down, SHIELD turned out to be infiltrated by HYDRA. SHIELD is gone."

"Not while I'm director."

"…Say that again?"

"Fury left me in charge of rebuilding SHIELD, starting with my team. We lost one of our own when he turned out to be HYDRA, and we've since lost another to powers we don't understand. The same event unlocked the powers of another member of my team, and she hasn't learnt how to control them yet. Her psychotic father and our mole are after us, and we're down to our last five dollars."

"It's that low?" May said. "Phil—"

"Yet another of my team is still recovering from brain damage," Phil continued, ignoring her. "Hate me all you want, but my team's done nothing to hurt you. Before Skye causes any more damage, could you… please help her? And maybe," he hated to say it, "help Fitz as well? All his knowledge is there; he just has trouble expressing himself."

"Aphasia?"

"A form of it, yes. My medical knowledge is limited."

"So, what, you want us to house potentially unstable strangers in the tower?"

"Anywhere safe. Please."

"And you want money as well? How do I know this isn't some scam?"

Phil's grip on the edge of his desk tightened.

"It would clearly be a pretty poor one," he said. "Forget it." I'm sorry, Fitz. "We'll get help some other way."

He ended the call, fighting back tears of frustration. He had a few options for getting together enough money to send Skye to Xavier's Institute. He'd sold every piece of his Captain America merchandise, even the few things with sentimental value which could still earn a good sum, except the few things on display in his office. It was important to maintain the illusion that he hadn't hocked everything else.

"I'll call in a favour from my mom," May said.

"You've asked enough of her."

"If you'd told me—"

"You have enough problems, Melinda. If I can relieve any of them at all, I will. I know… that all the others see you as strong, the perfect shoulder to cry on." He reached across and touched her arm. She let him. "That's not fair on you. You can come to me at any time. We can be there for each other. We have been before."

He saw her swallow, and it touched him that she wasn't entirely stoic.

"You're a good man, Phil Coulson," she said.

"You're a good woman, Melinda May."

"I have money—"

"You're not the director. The World Security Council – what's left – isn't all that easy to smooth-talk or threaten."

"Let me try. Woman-to-woman."

"Sweet of you to offer, but it's my responsibility."

She stood fluidly.

"Tell me if I can do anything," she said.

"I will. I've only got you to lean on." He shrugged, smiling. "I'll try not to lean too hard, though."

"I'm strong."

"You shouldn't have to be. You were only supposed to be the pilot."

May gave him a look. "You and I both know that's not true," she said.

Then she left the office, and Phil stared down at his hands, weighing up his options.

Short of aligning with mercenaries or Victor von Doom – which he couldn't bring himself to do until prostitution was literally the last option – he had to sell up his remaining assets.

With a sigh, he stood up and walked downstairs. He found Mack, and stopped him before he could speak.

"This is your one chance to work on Lola," he said. Mack's eyes lit up. "Tell anyone what you're doing, and you'll never touch her again. I mean _anyone_. May, Fitz, the Pope… no telling."

"Absolutely, sir," Mack said, and he grinned. "What d'you want me to do?"

It hurt, but Phil had to do it.

"Remove her flying modifications," he said. "Leave her in pristine condition, looking like any other sports car."

Mack's eyebrows drew together, but he nodded. "Whatever you say, boss. Can I ask why?"

"No. Just do what I've asked you to do, and not a word. I will _know_ if you tell anyone."

The mechanic made a zipping motion across his mouth.

Back in his office, Phil picked up his mobile and dialled the number he was all too familiar with.

"Hi. We've spoken before. You told me to call if I had any more Captain America items for sale?"

* * *

Fitz was still depressed, as were the rest of the team after Trip's death. Skye spent most of her time away from them, somewhere her quakes wouldn't cause any problems. Mack would fetch her before it got dark, but she'd sneak out again whenever she couldn't sleep, or if she had a nightmare. Fitz was still working on designing a shock-proof room so that she wouldn't catch her 'death of cold'.

Everything was up in the air, basically, which meant that Mack was able to tinker with the cherry red car without being disturbed.

At least until he wheeled out from underneath and nearly had a heart attack when he saw May standing over him.

"Shit, I could've hit my head," he said, sitting up. "Can I help you, Agent May?"

"What're you doing to Lola?"

"Sorry, but it's a secret. Boss-man gave me orders, and I'm gonna follow `em. Or I'll never get to work on her again." He touched the paintwork with a sigh. He glanced up at May, and she was frowning.

"What made him change his mind?" she asked.

"No idea. I'm not gonna question it. I… hate to kick you out, but this is classified."

"I'm concerned that Director Coulson is going to sell his car. If that's true, you won't have another chance to work on her anyway."

"…Shit."

"Do you think I'm right?"

Mack scratched his head, eyes closing, and groaned. "I can't say."

"It's just your opinion."

"I can't say."

She hummed. "Very well."

"I'm sorry."

"You're obeying orders. I can't fault that."

Then she stalked out of the room. Mack looked at Lola, mourning the possibility that he was removing her ability to fly because Coulson planned to sell her. What was he thinking?

* * *

"Is it true?" were Barton's first words to May in a long time.

"Yes," she said.

"Phil's alive?"

"Since when did you call him 'Phil'?"

Barton clenched his teeth, and May stared at him unflinchingly.

"How did it happen?" he asked.

"After five days, he was brought back to life using an experimental procedure he'd been in charge of, and declared unsafe. His memories of the procedure were replaced with others so he'd forget begging for the doctors to let him die. Now that that's settled, I want to have a word."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, _he wanted to die_?"

"They kept him awake during the procedure. Can we please stick to the subject?"

"What is it?"

"Coulson's been using every available cent to keep New SHIELD going, and now he's running out. I believe he's planning to sell the car Fury gave him. The only other things he might have of real value are his Captain America mementos. He may have already sold most of them. I can only speculate."

"What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Her eyes narrowed, and he shifted uncomfortably.

"If you don't know," she said, using the words many women before her had used, "I'm certainly not going to tell you."

Damn Avengers. She hung up on him and called her mother.

"This favour isn't for me. It's for someone… I care about."

* * *

Mack had finished working on Lola. Phil gave her a test run, making sure that she could no longer fly. Satisfied, he drove her to the location he'd agreed to meet his prospective buyer, a Mr. Cleary. He'd had Skye run his background check, and everything seemed to be in order. He already had a good car collection, and was looking for one just like Phil's.

Fury had probably bought her using SHIELD funds. Phil may as well give it back.

"I'm sorry, baby," he said, stroking her dashboard. Mr. Cleary's car was there, and there was a man either side of it. He'd said something about his secretary, Mr. Flagg, coming along with the paperwork. Phil would get more for Lola going through private channels. He just hoped Cleary was legit, and that nothing bad would happen to his… to the car. "I wouldn't do this if I didn't have to."

Swallowing, he climbed out of the car, and took out the keys. He was armed in case of trouble.

"Mr. Cleary?" Phil said, walking over. There was something familiar about the figure, which was strange, considering that Skye hadn't found any pictures of him.

"Okay, that was a fib," replied an unmistakable voice.

The only person who could fool Skye's hacking skills would be Tony Stark. Stark. Clear. Of course.

"There was no need for an alias," Phil said. He noticed that 'Flagg' was Bruce. Bruce _Banner_. He should've picked up on that. "I need the money. You want the car. I know you'll at least take care of her… if you don't flatten her with one of your suits." He frowned. "Maybe I should find someone else." He backed up a step towards Lola.

"Phil?"

"Hmm?" He looked to the right and saw Clint emerging from the bushes, followed by Natasha. "Barton?"

"Yeah."

"You've never called me 'Phil' before."

"That's what May said."

"May?" He stared as the rest of the Avengers moved into view. "Why the hell… She should never have told you." He frowned at Stark. "You weren't interested in helping."

"No, but you've got one hell of a car there."

"Tony," Banner said, frowning at him.

"Either you buy the car, or I'll find someone else who will," Phil said. "A legitimate buyer. I need someone who's not going to turn her into scrap metal."

"What's her name?" Captain Rogers asked, looking at her. Phil beat down the lump in his throat.

"Her name… was Lola," he said in a steady voice. Rogers' eyes widened. Likely he didn't recognise the reference.

"What about your team?" Stark said. "Your other team?"

"I only have one."

"We were supposed to be your team."

"We _were_ your team once," Natasha said. It was good to hear her voice again. Phil shrugged.

"I was only your handler," he said. "And a liaison for SHIELD. Just another suit to you. Do you intend to make an offer on Lo— on my car or not?"

"What if I took your team in and looked after them?"

It was more than Phil could've hoped for.

"Is that a serious offer?" he asked. "Because if you're only joking, Stark—"

"No joke," Stark said. "As a favour, we'll take them in. Teach… what was it, Skye? Teach her control. Take care of all of them."

It was an offer he couldn't refuse. He nodded, and walked up to Tony. Then he shoved the keys into his hand.

"Take care of them all for me," he whispered. "They… Just, just take care of them."

"You're giving me the car?"

"I can't afford to keep her. Take her as payment for looking after my people."

He began to walk away, holding back unreasonable tears. Stark called after him.

"How do you plan to get back?" he said. Phil spoke over his shoulder.

"I'll call for a ride when I get to the main road half a mile away," he replied.

"What about your heart? Heard it got torn to shreds."

"Good day, Mr. Stark. Double-cross me and you'll want to sleep with one eye open at night."

Squaring his shoulders, Phil set off again. The last of his Captain America merchandise had already been paid for, and he'd sent it off as soon as he had the money in hand. It would keep him going long enough to formulate another plan. He didn't have an apartment, and it would be pretty lonely around base. Canada was a possibility, if Xavier needed his particular set of skills. Or he could go in to security, and search out more candidates for SHIELD in his spare time.

He struck out automatically when someone landed in front of him. He nearly had the guy on the ground when he noticed the wings, and quickly backed up. Before he could apologise the guy waved a hand.

"Don't sell your car," he said, and he glanced past Phil to Lola. Or whatever she'd be called now, if anything. Phil sighed, and smiled sadly at the Falcon.

"What other choice do I have?" he said. "Oh." He looked back over his shoulder and met Banner's eyes. "And take special care of your third."

"Third what?" Banner said.

"Soulmate. Your other soulmate is on my team."

As the others moved further towards him, he walked around Sam Wilson. He murmured an apology as he passed, and continued down the road. Or tried to.

"What did you say to Steve?" Wilson asked. Phil paused mid-step. "Did you quote Barry Manilow?"

'_What's her name?_'

'_Don't sell your car._'

Phil had been reborn with those words adorning his skin. His chest felt tight, and he forced himself to stay still.

"I think you know the answer to that," he said. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go."

May gave him a look that showed her extremely displeasure when she picked him up.

"Not a word," he said. He couldn't hide the tremble anymore, and his hands shook as he buckled himself in. Then he stared out the window as they drove back to the bus.

"You know me," she said. "Silence is my middle name."

Phil nodded. He couldn't speak anymore.

* * *

The next day he had everyone packed and ready to go. Skye kept asking to stay, or for him to join them at Stark Tower.

"I need to stay behind," he said. "But thanks for the offer."

"You'll be all alone here!"

"I'll pick up more strays to join New SHIELD. The Koenig brothers will be back soon."

"It's too dangerous—"

"No, it isn't. Skye, go. You all need this, especially you and Fitz. Mack will be able to keep working on the Corvette, if Mr. Stark lets him. May will be there to keep an eye on you. Simmons will have access to better equipment, and so will Fitz. It's… it's for the best."

"This has nothing to do with the Avengers?" she said, crossing her arms.

Everything. "It's complicated."

"Not classified?"

"Nothing's classified anymore."

"I wish." She hugged him, and he stroked her hair.

"You're not being confined," he said. "You're going to be set free."

She sniffled. "I'll miss you, DC. Call lots, okay?"

"Whenever I can. Now go." He pushed her towards the open doors. "Grab your bags. I'll see you around."

"Hope so."

They all waved before they left. May waited, staring at Phil.

"I don't trust the Avengers with my team," he said. "And…" He lowered his voice. "I don't trust Stark with Fitz." May raised her eyebrows. "Stark and Banner's third is Fitz. I've seen his marks and I've seen their handwriting. I need you to report back to me on the situation."

She nodded once, and followed the others out.

Phil retreated to the office. He considered contacting Audrey, and reminded himself of why that was such a terrible idea. His mark for her had disappeared after he died, and hers had died with him. He knew she had a replacement one. Had she found her new soulmate yet? Was she still looking?

He didn't have to look anymore. For some reason, he could only ever have a platonic soulmate relationship from now on. Unless he died and was resurrected again.

Phil… was tired of the idea of soulmates. How many relationships didn't work out? As a SHIELD agent, he knew the statistics. Platonic, non-platonic. It didn't mean anything when Fate screwed up.

Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson? Really? As Phil's soulmates? That made no sense.

Bruce Banner, Tony Stark, and Fitz? At least they had science in common.

* * *

"You gonna introduce us?" Clint asked. Both teams were standing in straight lines facing each other. May stood at the end.

"Alphonso Mackenzie," she said. "Mechanic."

"Please, call me Mack," he said. "Never Alphonso."

"Leopold Fitz. Engineer."

"Uh, just call me Fitz," he said. "E-everyone does."

"Jemma Simmons. Bio-scientist."

"Hello," she said, rocking back and forth on her feet.

"Skye. Specialist and… Gifted."

"With making the ground shake," she said. "Hey."

"You're the one we have to teach control to," Bruce said.

"Before I make a big hole in New York? Yeah, that'd be good."

"Barbara Morse. Specialist."

"Hey, Bobbi," Clint said, and he grinned. "Long time and all that."

"Lance Hunter. Mercenary."

"And specialist," he added.

"And my ex-husband," Bobbi said. Clint snorted.

"He's the nightmare ex you used to bitch about?" he said. Hunter looked scandalised.

"Don't even," Bobbi said, pointing at him. "You complained about me just as much to the other guys."

"That he did," Mack said, chuckling behind his fist.

"And I'm Melinda May," May said. "Specialist and pilot."

"Great," Tony said. He clapped his hands once. "Let's get to work. Anyone interested in science, come with me."

"I'll come, too," Bruce said, following him. "Come on, Skye. We can discuss a training schedule."

"Show me to the workout area," Bobbi said. "Agent Romanov, we haven't met, but I've heard a lot about you. Wanna spar?"

"Sounds like fun."

* * *

Tony kept an eye on his new charges. Bruce and Skye were talking animatedly, which was nice to see. He especially watched the engineer. He'd heard of Leo Fitz, of course he had. The first time Tony had broken into SHIELD records he'd looked up their science division to find people to poach, just to annoy Fury. When he lost interest, he checked out the academy, and was seriously impressed. But then things happened, and he never got around to plucking Fitz away for a life of leisure and ubër-science.

It wasn't just that. Fitz was the one with brain damage. Tony and Bruce had discussed it, and decided that they would do what they can, as long as it didn't compromise the Scot's intelligence and ability to do his work. He glanced down, remembering the medical record Phi— Coulson had sent. The tremor in Fitz's hands was slight, but hellish for anyone who worked manually, and especially engineers who created weapons and advanced technology of the kind SHIELD used.

They left the elevator at the research and development level. Fitz, Mack, and Simmons had remained quiet. Bruce was most interested in picking Simmons' brain, and apparently Mack was one of the few people who'd had the privilege of working on the red corvette. Fitz hung back while the others followed Bruce, who'd started showing off the labs. Tony walked beside him.

"What part of the field are you interested in?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't actually work in the field all that much, mostly in the lab."

There was a crash as Bruce ran into a trolley. Simmons and Skye steadied it for him, but he didn't notice. He was staring at Fitz, as Tony was now. The young engineer backed off a couple of steps.

"What did you say to him?" Bruce said.

"I just said that I don't… oh." Fitz blinked, looking from one to the other.

"'Oh', indeed."

"Well, isn't that a turn up for the books?"

"Fitz!" Simmons squeaked. "Those are your words, aren't they? I'm sure you said—"

"Yes, they are." Fitz scratched the back of his head and looked anywhere but at his soulmates.

This was the one Coulson had mentioned. Their third. It was Leo Fitz.

"Well, aren't we lucky," Tony said, smiling broadly. "Remind me to send a cookie bouquet to Coulson as a thank-you. He told us to look out for you."

"That's not, uh, that's not… you don't have to… it's not." He waved his hand and glanced at Mack.

"Necessary?" he supplied.

"Yes! It's not necessary. I can look after meself."

"Doesn't mean you have to," Bruce said, lifting his shoulders. "You're our soulmate. If we want to look after you—"

"Which we do, by the way," Tony added.

"Won't you let us?"

"We'll leave you alone for a minute," Mack said, ushering the girls out. "I'll just be out here if you need me, Turbo."

"I… alright."

Once they were alone, Tony hoped that Fitz would meet their eyes. But he continued to shuffle around without looking at them.

"Coulson told us you were hurt," Tony said. "What happened?"

"Nearly drowned. I was knocked out in a blast, and Simmons had to drag me to the surface. I'd told her to leave me behind, but she wouldn't."

"Thank God for that," Bruce said. He somehow managed to sneak up and touch Fitz's arm. The young man skittered away. Tony was reminded of when Bruce shied away from their bond.

"Don't," he said, his brogue growing stronger. "Yeh can help if yeh want, but you dinnae have to. I know yeh're already together. Yeh dinnae need—"

"And we've been looking for you," Tony said. "Now I know why we couldn't find anything. You all went dark after HYDRA-SHIELD was exposed, and your records were pulled."

"It was n-necessary."

"But we've got you know," Bruce said. "I know we're older than you—"

"That's not it," Fitz said slowly.

"And we live dangerous lives, just like you—"

"Not it, either."

"Then what is it?" Tony pressed. Fitz met his gaze briefly, then looked down.

"I'm b-broken," he said. Tony and Bruce looked at each other. Bruce touched the spot between Fitz's shoulder blades, and pulled him closer.

"Nothing's too broken that it can't be fixed," he whispered.

"You're only a bit dented," Tony said. "We're good at fixing things. I'll get the best medical care for you, if Brucey isn't allowed to operate because we're soulmates." He grinned, and slipped his arm around Fitz's waist. "Look at me?" He did, and Tony brushed their noses together. "Leo, it took a lot of time and energy to convince Bruce to give me a go, and for some reason he thinks I was worth it."

"You are," Bruce said.

"Theoretically, with the two of us working on you, it should only take half the time. Let's see, it took, what, two and a half weeks to get Bruce to go on a date with me—"

"Eight hundred and forty hours, so you'd take four hundred and twenty—"

"And eleven days to get him into bed—"

"Half two hundred and sixty-four, makes it one hundred and thirty-two hours—"

"Then three days to convince him to bond with me."

"One and a half days is thirty-six hours," Bruce said.

"You think it'll take five hundred and fifty-eight hours to convince me to bond with you? Less than twenty-four days?"

"Three and a half weeks?" Tony said, cocking his head as he looked at Bruce. "Either that, or—"

"But you're not taking into consideration the variables d-dependant on Dr. Banner's powers of persuasion," Fitz said. "In tandem with yours, it could take more or less time."

"It'll happen someday," Tony said. "Unless you don't want us."

"I do, I do, I…" He looked down again, blushing. "I'd like to."

"Great! Let's get to it."

"Tony," Bruce said in his warning tone. "This is a lot to take in. Hear him out."

"Thank you," Fitz said. "But my hands… and sometimes the words—"

"They came out fine before," Tony said. "When you were discussing variables."

"I… so they did."

"Maybe being bonded will help."

"Or maybe it'll make things worse for you," Fitz said. "I can't risk it."

"Please," Tony said softly. "Every time Bruce rejected me I wanted to give up. He deserves better. I knew it, and I knew – I _thought_ – he saw that. But I kept going because we're supposed to be together. Because I saw that he was trying to protect me. Then… I talked to the Big Guy, who confirmed that Bruce was being stupidly noble. He was worth it in the end, Leo. It hurts… being rejected by your soulmate. It already happened to me once." Bruce stroked Tony's cheek, and his eyes fluttered closed. "Don't do that to me again."

"You'll always be worth it, Tony," Bruce said. He looked down at Fitz, who was staring at their interaction with wide eyes. "It's the best feeling in the world when you bond with someone. It's something you'll never get with anyone else. If it makes you feel any better, let us do what we can to cure whatever damage is there. When it works, promise you'll think about a date?"

"No, I… I can't…"

"Okay," Bruce said quietly, backing off. He pressed against Tony's side, and Fitz shook his head, looking at them earnestly.

"I c-can't make you… make you…" He grimaced, shaking his head. "Damn it all ta hell!"

"You can't make us what?"

"Mack!"

"Coming," Mack said, entering the room. "What's up, Turbo? Want me to take the girls somewhere else?"

"I can't make them… do the thing where they…"

"Bond?"

"No. Take longer…"

"Uh, wait?"

"Yes. Thank you."

Mack half-smiled. "Not a problem." Then he disappeared again, and shut the door.

"I can't make you wait," Fitz said. "It's been awhile?"

"All your life," Bruce said. He smiled tentatively. "You'll let us court you?"

"Yes, please."

Tony whooped, and scooped Fitz up into a kiss. He heard Bruce laughing, and pushed the young engineer into his other soulmate's arms. Bruce let Fitz initiate their kiss. It was sweet and hot, and Tony really didn't want to wait until they 'fixed' Fitz. Honestly. He was the least broken of the three of them.

Or maybe they were just as broken as each other, and could only be fixed when they were all together. Like they were now.

* * *

Sam and Steve lay entangled together on the sofa, Steve stroking Sam's hair.

"I'm glad Bruce and Tony are happy with Fitz," he said.

"Better than them moping around, trying to find the person to complete them," Sam said.

"We found ours, and he just walked away." Steve couldn't help feeling frustrated. It'd been over two weeks since they'd seen Phil Coulson. He reported to Skye frequently, letting her know how he was going. It's possible they were all lies. If not, then he was being paid cash-in-hand or using an alias, because they couldn't find any financial records in his name. Not since he drained his last known bank account.

The former SHIELD agents among them had seen plenty of Phil's writing on paperwork and electronic forms, and were able to confirm that the soulmarks were in his hand. It was simultaneously gratifying and frustrating. Phil was constantly on the move, never staying in the one place long enough for them to pin him down. He had managed to acquire three additional SHIELD agents, including one he'd known before HYDRA-Gate. Billy and Sam Koenig had been away when Phil sent his team to the Avengers, but they were back at base now, with no clue as to his whereabouts.

"The only way we're gonna find him is by accident," Sam said.

Steve grunted. "D'you think we scared him off?"

"D'you mean _I_ scared him off? I'll admit, using the wings probably wasn't the best idea I've ever—"

"No. But the last time I spoke to him he was trying to be friendly, and I just brushed him off. Then he was confronted with both of us, well-known superheroes, secret couple, and he'd just given his car to Tony. The car he loved, and the team he was trying to look after. He would've already been emotional. Finding out who his soulmates were…"

"A bit of a shock, huh?" Sam said.

"We didn't get our marks until after he came back to life, according to Agent May. That means we're also always gonna be associated with a terrible time in his life. He lost his cellist to someone else and got us instead. We don't even know if he's bi."

"Practically nobody in this century knew _you_ were bi," Sam pointed out. "He might think it's just supposed to be platonic."

"Do you just want platonic with him?" Steve said, raising his eyebrows. Sam shrugged.

"I don't know him, but he looks like a nice guy, and the others only have good things to say about him," he said. "I'd sure like to get to know him."

"He's… a fan of mine."

"From what you told me of your first meeting, and judging by the way he reacted to you a fortnight ago, I think the bloom's been knocked off that rose."

"Thanks," Steve muttered.

"What I mean is that he probably won't wanna fanboy all over you anymore. You should be happy about that."

"It'd make me feel more comfortable if he wanted to bond with us because of me, and not Captain America."

"Hey." Sam elbowed him gently. "Maybe he came back as our soulmate because you're equal now? His crush on Captain America died with him, leaving him free to be with Steve Rogers."

"And Sam Wilson," Steve added, poking him.

"Well, the Falcon only became a superhero recently," Sam said, smirking. "No time for him to get a crush on my persona."

"Lucky you."

"We're both lucky if our third decides to get in on the act, like Fitz."

As soon as Fitz had sufficiently recovered from his surgery, he went on a date with Bruce and Tony, dragged them to bed afterwards, and they'd bonded that night. Loudly. Well, it was loud for Steve with his super-hearing, goddamnit. Fitz was the only one gracious enough to blush when Steve complained about it over breakfast.

"Sirs," JARVIS said, "I believe you will be interested in the visitor."

"Visitor?" Steve said, raising his head to look at the door. "What visitor?"

"To the tower. He rode in on a borrowed motorcycle with the Winter Soldier, who is injured and unconscious."

"Bucky's here?"

"Yes. Director Coulson brought him."

Sam and Steve looked at each other, then bolted for the elevator.

* * *

Phil kicked out the stand for the bike, and raised the visor of his helmet.

"Thanks, JARVIS," he said. "Is Simmons on her way?"

"Along with Dr. Banner, sir," the AI replied. "It is good to see you again."

"You think?" Phil said, tucking the helmet away. He pulled the Winter Soldier's right arm around his neck and dragged him to the elevator.

"Yes, sir. There are many here who will be glad to see you."

"Uh-huh?" Phil pulled the soldier – James Buchanan Barnes! – into the elevator and propped him against the wall. It'd been hell on his shoulders supporting him on the bike, especially when they were pursued. Phil was injured himself, but as long as he didn't think about it, it didn't hurt. He wasn't even aware of the extent of his injuries. "Which is the medical level?"

"I am taking you there now, sir. I dropped Doctors Banner and Simmons there on the way down to fetch you."

"Good."

"Your soulmates are especially pleased."

Phil hesitated. "Right."

"We have been unable to locate you, sir. It has caused them some distress."

"Sorry to be a bother," Phil said. A second later, the doors opened. "Help me with him."

"Come here," Banner said, and he helped Phil take the Winter Soldier to a prepared bed. "What happened to him?"

"He looks like he's been living on the streets. He was being picked on, probably just by muggers, when I found him. I worked out who he was, but HYDRA was following one of us. I presume it was HYDRA." He took off Barnes' boots. "They started shooting. Whatever they hit him with, it knocked him out. Probably would've killed me. He took the shot, and I'm not sure he wasn't doing it to protect me, though I can't think why."

"If he thought you had a common enemy and knew he had a better chance of survival…"

"I thought of that, which makes me wonder how much of his mind is his own."

"Sir, you're injured," Simmons said.

"Please don't remind me. He's in worse shape. I dragged him to cover and fired back when I could. I hotwired a bike, got back to him, and brought him straight here. It wasn't all that far. I was following up a lead in the neighbourhood."

"Sir, please sit down—"

"Simmons, help him. He probably saved my life."

"Which won't mean anything if you bleed out," she said sternly.

"It's not that bad."

"How would you know?"

"Simmons!" he barked. "Help Barnes, for God's sake. I don't know what condition he's in, but his life has sucked, and he deserves help. Don't make me make that an order."

She pursed her lips and pointed to a chair. "Not until you sit down."

"Fine then," he mumbled, and he perched on the edge of the chair.

Then discovered where one of his injuries was. Now out of the danger zone, the adrenaline was wearing off. The pain was a shock, as were the aches from his other wounds. He noticed the trail of blood he'd left, and heard Simmons' gasp at the same time there was a 'ding' in the background.

"Is it Barnes?" he said. His vision began to blur at the edges. Oh, this was familiar.

"Sir!"

"Phil!"

"Coulson!"

He slid to the floor and passed out.

* * *

Fitz did everything Jemma told him to do. His hands were steady, his tongue no longer go twisted. The words were there; he could access them. Coulson had let him come here, meet his soulmates, get better. He'd given up his car. Now he'd risked his life for a man he'd never met, but knew was important to one of his own soulmates.

It still made Fitz's head spin sometimes. He was bonded to Bruce Banner and Tony Stark, and Coulson was soulmated to Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers. It hardly seemed possible, but it was true. At least Fitz had done the sensible thing and given in to Fate.

Coulson was fighting it at every turn, and he seemed to be the only one who didn't see what a toll it was taking on Steve and Sam. They were both nice guys, who were teaching him to play pool and poker. The tricks they'd shown him had caused Fitz to win many a game of strip poker. But then, when you played strip poker with your soulmates to whom you're bonded, everyone was a winner.

Jemma was still ecstatic to be bonded to Pepper Potts and Colonel Rhodes. She pounced on them at practically every opportunity. Unless science was going on, of course. But they were among the few who could tempt her away from it. Fitz had hoped that the two of them could lead by example.

Instead, Coulson kept trying to escape. Tony had set up a new secret SHIELD base in the outer suburbs of New York, and the new recruits were trained there. It didn't keep Coulson in the state; not when he wanted to be out, finding newbies himself. It was a talent of his, but extremely annoying to his soulmates.

He could never forget that day. He'd seen the footage, and Jemma had described it often enough that he felt like he'd been there in person. Coulson slipping to the floor and passing out in a growing pool of his own blood from multiple gunshot wounds, taken when he'd defended Bucky against the half dozen agents after them. Sam and Steve had just arrived, and almost lost their minds when they nearly lost their third.

Bucky had managed to befriend Coulson, which was adorable. He'd recovered quickly after they discovered and removed the ICER-style bullet which had been keeping him unconscious. Once he was up and about, he was tending to Coulson nearly all the time. The director kept insisting that Bucky owed him nothing, that it was his own way of repaying the sniper for his efforts during the war. His work as a Howling Commando especially.

In short, it was annoying to see Coulson avoiding his soulmates like a cliché.

"When're you going to put them out of their misery, sir?" he asked, interrupting Coulson's night-time snack. The director nearly choked on his doughnut.

"Still up, Fitz?" he said.

"Science is still happening," he said. "I'm here to get something to tempt my soulmates to bed."

"I would've thought you could do that without food," Coulson said, stirring his drink. Fitz hoped it was something decaffeinated.

"It's the implication of what they could do with me _and_ food that gets them raring to go," Fitz said, making sure that his boss wasn't going to inhale any food or drink. He pulled out a can of whipped cream. "We have plenty of these, if you're interested. I'm sure Sam and Steve won't mind."

Coulson's expression closed off. "I'm not going there, Fitz."

"Then tell them. Don't just run away whenever you see them."

"I don't run."

"Yeh may as well! Don't yeh see what's happening? Can yeh no' see how much yeh're hurting them?"

"Fitz—"

He inhaled steadily. "Look, sir. It's obvious they want to talk to you, but you're not letting them close enough to say anything."

"I don't see what there is to say."

"Why not?"

"I don't belong here, Fitz. I belong in the shadows, fixing the mess HYDRA got us into. Sometimes I wonder whether the damage can be repaired."

Fitz almost chuckled. "Someone once told me that nothing's too broken that it can't be fixed."

"I think this is." Phil sipped his drink as Fitz took out a punnet of strawberries as well. "Who was it told you that?"

"One of my soulmates. They proved it true, y'know."

"Yes, I know. I'm glad for you Fitz. I wish I'd brought you all here earlier."

"You mean sent us, while you stayed behind waiting for Billy and Sam to return."

"I didn't wait. I got on with my job."

"What if you didn't resurrect SHIELD?"

"…I beg your pardon?"

"We've been discussing this, my soulmates and I, and we thought that maybe you could instead create a civilian assistant team for the Avengers. You may not get the numbers, but they'll be vetted. Jemma's not likely to leave here, and neither am I. Skye's integrated herself into the team, and I'm pretty sure Bucky will go wherever you do. I think Steve and Sam are a bit jealous of him."

"I don't think so, Fitz."

"So you don't think it's a good idea."

Coulson sighed. "I don't know what Fate was thinking. I'm not the right fit for them."

"You won't let them decide that?"

"I'm worried… that if I talk to them… I won't be able to say no."

"Why would you want to?"

"Because—!"

"Because what, sir?"

"I…" He sighed again. "I've been affiliated with SHIELD all my life, an organisation St— Rogers hates. I only know of Wilson…"

"You'd know him better if you actually spoke to him, y'know."

"But they're both young – physically – and they're both superheroes. I feel like the odd one out already, and everybody will think so. If the media found out, they'd agree. I can't say that I'd endanger them, because they're doing fine there without my help. If I bonded with them, pursued any kind of relationship, I'd always feel like the proverbial third wheel. I'm no stranger to that feeling, Fitz. I don't want it with my _soulmates_."

"You don't want them at all?"

Coulson sank his head into his hands. "I honestly don't know. I don't know how to feel about them."

"Because you won't _talk to them_."

"Because I don't want to grow attached and then be rejected."

"You wouldn't be rejected, you arse!"

He rubbed his eyes. "Damnit, I'm too old for this. I'm going to bed. See you later, Fitz."

"I'm telling on you to May."

"Good luck with that. She probably already knows. I swear she's in cahoots with JARVIS."

"I am not in cahoots with anyone, Director Coulson," JARVIS said.

"You say that now…"

* * *

The motorbike had been returned to its owner, with repairs and upgrades from Mack and Stark, and an apology from Phil. The guy had been so taken aback that he hadn't pressed charges, which was fortunate. Now Phil was on the lookout for another mode of transport, something smaller than the jet, and a lot cheaper to run. He couldn't rely on May to keep ferrying him from place to place, cabs were expensive, and public transport wasn't always reliable. Lola had stood out, but because of that no one took a second look. Why would a secret agent drive such a flashy car? She was inconspicuous because she was noticeable.

For everything else, there was the Bus.

Phil deliberately kept his eyes off his old car whenever he had to go to the garage, which was part of the reason he avoided it as much as possible. So when Stark called him down to the garage, saying that he had the solution to Phil's transport issues, he was tempted to ignore the billionaire on principle. But he knew that Fitz hated to see them at odds, and Phil had a soft spot for his engineer. Formerly his, because he was firmly with Banner and Stark now, and Phil couldn't bring himself to disrupt that.

"About damn time," Stark said when Phil stepped out of the elevator. He frowned at the billionaire.

"Take it up with JARVIS. He brought me directly here."

"I'm talking about the last few weeks." Stark pushed him forward, and Phil saw Lola. Right in front of him. Stark shoved the keys into Phil's unresisting hand.

"Stark—"

"You handed over your car _and_ your team. You didn't need to do both."

"I can't—"

"And if you'd been anywhere near us since then, we could've handed her back over to you. I'm sure she's a sweet ride, but Mack's the only one who's handled her."

"She can fly again, as well," Mack said. Phil narrowed his eyes, and then glanced at Lola again.

"There's no way I can keep her," he said. "The World Security Council isn't forking anything out, since SHIELD no longer technically exists the government's not funding us, and I don't have much left to sell. If you hand Lola back to me, I'm just going to find another buyer."

"And I'll just keep returning her to you," Stark said. "You need fuel? Let me provide it. We'll do any repairs you need. Leo asked me to, but I was going to make the offer anyway." He gestured vaguely. "To be your backer."

Phil swallowed. "I can't accept that. It's not your job—"

"The Avengers Initiative was started by SHIELD, the good guys in SHIELD. We were supposed to be affiliated with you, and you were supposed to be our liaison. One of my soulmates has vouched for you, and that's more than enough for me. You need it."

"…What exactly are you… do you want to fund?"

"The Avengers' Secret Service. You find the bad guys, take out the ones you can, call us for the bigger threats. I'm thinking TASS?"

"TASS?"

"Better than The Ass."

"If you think so, then you're not doing it properly," Phil muttered. He tightened his grip around the keys. "She's…"

"Yours. Like Fury wanted. I don't need her." He slapped Phil on the back. "Go on. We'll give you a moment alone with her." Phil gave him an irritated look, but silently appreciated the gesture. He noticed Fitz following Banner, Mack, and Stark into the elevator. "Oh, by the way. Turns out that all this stuff I'd been buying up to create a museum just to annoy Steve? All the Cap merch you've been selling off. Want it back, just ask."

Then he departed with the others, leaving Phil reeling. Alone with his car, he walked over and touched the door, ran his finger along the smooth side. He exhaled shakily.

"Hi, baby," he murmured. "Daddy's… Daddy's back. Daddy's got you."

He opened the door with unsteady hands and nearly fell into the driver's seat. He stroked the dashboard, his throat tightening. He lowered his head, reminding himself that it was just a car.

_Not just a car. She saved Skye's and my life. She's all I have left._

"It's okay," he said, reassuring both of them. "Just the two of us now, but that's okay. We'll go back to base ASAP."

"Don't." Well, that sure as hell wasn't Lola. Phil raised his head with a jerk, and stared as Sam and Steve walked out of the shadows. Sam shrugged his shoulders and continued. "Why are you keeping away from us?"

"We're your soulmates," Steve said. As if Phil needed reminding.

"I know that," he said.

"You haven't been acting like it!"

"I don't know why you're offended."

"He doesn't know why we're offended," Steve muttered, turning away and pacing. Sam approached Phil.

"You're rejecting us," he said.

"But…" Phil frowned. "You have no reason to—"

"To what?" Steve asked, scowling at Phil.

"To… to want me."

"Why the hell not?"

Phil looked from one of them to the other, and climbed out of Lola. He locked her doors and slipped the keys into his pocket, then leaned back against her.

"Why's everyone on my case about this?"

"If you don't want us—"

"I didn't say that!" Phil bit his lip, sighing through his nose. "I had a soulmate. I was in love with her. Then I died, and we both got new marks. It's a lot to take in; we're both still alive, and if she didn't think I was dead I could try to reconnect with her. But it wouldn't be fair on her new soulmate, or on her." He looked up at Sam, who was standing only a few feet away. "It would be nice to be able to bond with someone. I never got that far with Audrey. New York and Loki happened before I could… But I haven't been with a man in years, and… you two are so alike. You're so comfortable together; everyone sees that. If the world knew, it would also see that. I'd be the one who doesn't fit in." He hugged himself, and met Steve's eyes. "That's why I don't like triads. Unless everyone meets at once… and that's why I was worried about sending Fitz to the tower. I didn't want him to get hurt, just as I didn't want to lose him."

"If you stayed here, you wouldn't be losing anybody," Steve said. "You'd be getting us, for one thing."

"Two things, technically," Sam said. He took another step closer to Phil. "Let me try something?"

Phil looked to Steve, then back to Sam. It'd been a long time since he had butterflies like this, but he kept still while Sam cupped his cheek. Then Sam was kissing him, and Phil melted into the welcome touch. He held onto the Falcon's shoulders as he was pressed into the metal.

"Fuck." That was Steve Rogers swearing. "Can I join in?"

Phil stared, astonished, as Steve walked up, tilted Phil's head back, and kissed him as well. It was harder than the other; where Sam was tender, Steve was hungry. Phil hooked an arm around the captain's neck to keep his balance, parting his lips when prompted. When Steve finally pulled back, Phil had to orient himself. He fixed on Sam's wide grin.

"Let's take this somewhere else," he said, holding out a hand. Phil thought for a moment.

"Let's not," he said.

Then he unlocked Lola's doors.

* * *

On the balcony outside their room, Tony, Bruce, and Fitz lay curled up on the big sun lounge Tony had set up. Bruce was curled around Fitz, and Tony had his arm around both of them, the other holding a glass of scotch. He took a sip, content to gaze at the fading skyline over New York City.

"Let's get married," he said. He felt Leo's head turn up against his chest. Bruce chuckled.

"Good thing you're the only one still drinking," he said. "Does that have something to do with it?"

"I was sober when I bought rings for all three of us. Do you want me to get them? I'll go get them—"

"No!" Fitz said quickly. He placed his hand on Tony's knee. "Stay here. 'M comfortable."

"…Is that a no to marriage as well?"

"No, it's not a no to marriage. It's very much a yes to marriage, but would you please stay still? You're nice and warm, and I want to enjoy this moment. All right?"

Tony shrugged slightly, and looked at Bruce, who was trying to hide his grin in Fitz's curly hair.

"Well, Brucey?"

"I'm in."

"Good. Because I already asked Leo's dad about it, and he's fine."

"You asked my dad?" Fitz said. "Christ, you're brave."

"He likes tech."

"…You bribed him, didn't you?"

"Just showed that you'd be cared for by both your soulmates, and that I'd fly you out to Scotland whenever you wanted to see your family. And they're safe from HYDRA, by the way. If there's any breach of security there, we'll know."

Fitz nuzzled Tony's chest, just above the centre. "Thank you, Tony."

"Anything for the two of you."

"An' thanks for giving Lola back to Phil."

"He kinda shoved her onto me. I couldn't just accept that."

"I can't believe how much has changed."

"Like what?" Bruce asked, rubbing his hand up and down Fitz's front.

"Like finding my soulmates, and being fixed."

"Stop saying that, Leo. You weren't broken."

"And it's sweet of you to offer to find and kill Grant Ward, but he could've killed us any other way. We all knew that the box was supposed to float. Chances are, he thought he was protecting us."

"But—"

"But nothing, Bruce. I know you want to smash him, but he saved Simmons' life. He saved all our lives at one point or another, and never made a move against us. Not one which he could have perceived as life-threatening. Just because he was HYDRA doesn't mean he wasn't our friend."

Tony kissed the top of his head. "Never change your view of the world, Leo. It's naïve, but it's nice."

* * *

**Jennyrosity suggested Bruce/Fitz/Tony, with the Science Bros determined to fix Fitz and then go after Ward. Somehow, Phil/Sam/Steve happened, and I'm not entirely sure how. I considered just Phil/Sam, but I couldn't resist marking Steve with a line from 'Copacabana'. (And yes, I actually cried when I wrote the car giveaway scene. I'm cruel, not completely heartless.)**

**So we're resuming the angst transmission, apparently. On the bright side, you might be interested to hear that I'm considering the possibility of writing a companion chaptered fic to this one. Not so much continuations of the stories as… pretty much pure smut. Each of the ships bonding in their respective chapters, basically. Not all bonding has to lead to smut, but some of it will. I know many have requested proper continuations, but I like to leave endings which are open to interpretation, and then let the readers imagine what they like. Also, it means less work for me, time I could be spending on writing more chapters for this.**

**In other words, who wants smutty-smutty bonding scenes? If they're too explicit, I'll have to restrict the companion piece to AO3, but the link to my profile there is on my profile for ffnet.**

**Please review!**


	31. Metal Fusion (Bucky x Johnny)

"Metal Fusion"

Bucky Barnes stared up at the speaker in the store, scowling. The music was terrible, and if he had a gun he probably would've shot the damn thing to stop the racket. He winced at a particularly horrendous chord, and looked away, meeting the eyes of a man who seemed so familiar. But this one didn't have the right hair, and he didn't give any sign of recognition as he smiled at Bucky.

"I think it's called metal fusion," he said, jerking his head towards the speaker. Bucky's heart nearly stopped, and he clenched his fists. Without regular oiling, the left one squeaked. The man's gaze zeroed in on it.

"Whatever it is, it sounds like nails on slate," he said. The other man gasped softly, but Bucky's enhanced hearing picked it up despite the 'music'.

"I guess you'd know all about metal fusion… Sergeant Barnes."

Bucky froze, and then swallowed. He turned on his heel, forgetting why he'd even entered the shop in the first place, and hurried out. He heard his soulmate swear, and run to catch up.

"I'm sorry," he said, grabbing Bucky's right arm. The grip was probably light, but it felt bruising. "Shit. You're skin and bone." He tilted Bucky's head around. "You need food."

"I—"

"You're coming home with me. I'll look after you."

"No," Bucky said, pulling back. "I can't—"

"I know who you are. The whole superhero community's been on the lookout for you, ever since Rogers put the word out that you were around. If you want, I can say that the hunt's over now, or I can sneak you into my place. But you look emaciated, and as your soulmate I can't let that stand."

Bucky nodded. "Very well. But I'm dangerous."

"I'm the Human Torch. It's not like I'm a stranger to that myself."

"You look like—"

"Steve Rogers, I know. Not related, at least not closely. Come on." He hooked his elbow around Bucky's. "How do you feel about motorbikes?"

"Nothing wrong with them."

"Excellent! You can ride behind me."

There was still a problem. "What is your name?"

"Johnny Storm. What should I call you?"

"…Better make it Bucky. I'll have to get used to that."

* * *

Johnny kept a subtle hold on Bucky all the way to the bike, during the ride home, to the elevator, and all the way up to the penthouse. No matter how strong the Winter Soldier was supposed to be, he clearly wasn't eating. Probably couldn't risk getting a job, and the high moral code he was supposed to have likely excluded him from stealing all that much. A touch of shop-lifting or dumpster-diving, maybe, but not knocking over a store. At least he hoped not.

"Let me take care of you," Johnny said. "Until you get back on your feet. Unless you've grown used to me by then, in which case feel free to stay. In whatever capacity you want." He winked. Bucky stared at him blankly. "Food, sleep, shower, repeat."

"Or what?"

"Or you're gonna fall flat on your face, and that's not the greatest first impression to make on your prospective in-laws."

"What?" But the doors opened, and Johnny led Bucky through the apartment.

"Hey, Susan! I found my soulmate!"

"You did?" His sister ran into the room, and her jaw dropped when she saw them. "Oh my…"

"He's starving."

"No, I'm not," Bucky said.

"When did you last eat, Bucky?"

"…A few days ago?"

"Your mind isn't letting you acknowledge it, so you've obviously grown used to hunger. That ends now."

"I'll get something," Susan said. "Anything you want, Bucky?" He shook his head. "Do you have any allergies?"

"No."

"Okay. We'd better start with something small, easy for your stomach to handle—"

"Just get to it, Sue, okay?" Johnny said. She nodded, and disappeared again. The leaving-the-room type of disappearing, not the invisible kind. Johnny pushed Bucky onto the middle part of the sofa, and sat beside him. He hooked his foot on the underside of the coffee table and dragged it closer.

"You don't have to do this," Bucky whispered.

"I know, but you're my soulmate, so I'm going to. Deal with it. And you'll have to get used to Sue mother-henning you, because she will."

Bucky looked like he wanted to sink back in the cushions, whether out of embarrassment or tiredness Johnny wasn't sure. He casually rested his arm on the back of the sofa behind Bucky, who glanced at it and half-smiled.

"I used to pull that move with gals back in the day," he said. Johnny cocked his head.

"You know that same-sex relationships are permitted nowadays, right?"

"I got that impression."

"So." Johnny cosied up closer to him. "You're a good-looking guy. I'm a good-looking guy. We're soulmates. You can see where I'm going with this."

"I see alright," Bucky said, staring at Johnny's lips. Well, weren't things looking up? Johnny took a chance, leaning closer.

Then Susan chose that moment to enter the room. The tray rattled, and Johnny scooted away, keeping his hands to himself and looking anywhere but at Bucky. Susan gave him a disapproving look, but Bucky sniggered. That lightened Johnny's heart, and he peeked at Bucky out of the corner of his eye. Bucky winked at him.

"Thank you, Susan," he said, picking up one of the sandwiches. "This looks delicious."

"Is there anyone you want us to call for you?" she asked as he munched. He paused, and then shook his head.

"No," he said after he swallowed. "Not yet. I can't…"

"He's been looking for you. His soulmate's been helping him."

"That guy's Stevie's soulmate?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I nearly killed him."

"You nearly killed a lot of people," Johnny said. "'Nearly' is the operative word here."

"I _have_—"

"I'm an inconsiderate jackass and you're a war hero. I'm not the one getting the short end of the stick, sweetheart." Bucky blinked. "Eat your sandwiches. Then I'm gonna get you to bed. To sleep!" he added. "You need to sleep where you're safe." He glared at his sister. "No calling Steve Rogers. If Bucky doesn't want to see him yet, we're not gonna tell anyone where he is. He needs to feel safe here."

"Johnny—"

"He's my soulmate, Sue. If you're not happy with it, we'll go elsewhere." He grabbed onto Bucky's left hand and pulled it into his lap. Metal fingers curled around his. Metal fusion.

"Alright," she said. "Do you want me to make up the guest room?"

"No," they both said. She smiled.

"Consensus," she said. "I have a bad feeling about you two."

Bucky grinned behind his sandwich, and Johnny pressed into his side, pleased.

He had his soulmate!

* * *

It was two weeks before Bucky called Steve.

"Hi," he said.

"…Bucky? Is that you?"

"Yeah."

"Where are you?"

"With my soulmate."

"You… you got a soulmate? Who is it?"

"His name's Johnny Storm."

Johnny raised an eyebrow at the long silence. Bucky frowned from where he was resting his head in Johnny's lap, while Johnny ran his fingers through Bucky's hair.

"You still there?"

"Yeah," Steve said, sounding confused. "The Human Torch is your soulmate?"

"I feel I should tell you that I'm right here," Johnny said.

"Oh! Uh, hi, Storm."

"I hope we're all going to be friends," Bucky said, smirking.

"Of course, of course. So… you're at the Baxter Building?"

"Yep."

"And… how are you? Do you want me to visit?"

"Sure. Bring your soulmate. And… I'm good. Better with Johnny."

"He was starving on the streets, Rogers," Johnny said. Bucky scowled at him. "Don't give me that look. Anything was a step up from that."

"We steady each other. That's the most important thing, right? I need steady. I need Johnny."

"Can't think why," Johnny muttered. Bucky poked his leg.

"Can I come over anytime?" Steve asked.

"We're getting our own place soon," Bucky said.

"…Oh. Where?"

"Don't know yet. But at least I'm getting to choose things for myself these days."

"Look… can we have this conversation in person?"

"C'mon over," Bucky said. He glanced at Johnny, who nodded. "We'll get snacks ready."

"Sure thing," Steve said. "I'll be… be there soon."

"Bring your soulmate. Sam, isn't it?"

"Sure. He'll be happy to see you again, now that…"

"Now that I'm not a mindless killer."

"Uh, yeah." Bucky could almost hear Steve looking bashful.

"Don't worry, Rogers," Johnny said. "I made sure he had his mind before agreeing to bond with him."

"You…? Bucky, are you sure—"

"We're fated, Steve. Of course I'm gonna bond with him. It… fixed me, oddly enough."

"It's called magical healing cock," Johnny said.

"I really didn't need to hear that."

"Don't grumble, Stevie," Bucky said, tilting his head. "Be happy for me. And the sooner you get over here, the sooner you can see me again."

"Alright. We'll be there shortly."

After they hung up, Johnny leaned down and kissed Bucky, then nuzzled his nose.

"Thanks for sticking up for me," he said. "Not many people would think I'm a good influence."

"Same could be said about me, Johnny. But I love you anyway."

"Love you, too."

"You'll stay with me while Steve's here, won't you?" Bucky asked, wide-eyed. Johnny arched his eyebrows.

"Of course," he said. "You're my soulmate."

Bucky smiled, and tugged Johnny's arm closer around him. He was nice and warm after the decades of ice, and it drove away the nightmares. Not all, but at least Johnny could defend himself on the nights Bucky woke up thrashing and in Winter Soldier mode. Johnny just had to run a scorching hand up the inside of Bucky's right arm, where his soulmark was, and Bucky would settle right down.

It wasn't exactly a true love's kiss curing all, but it worked, and he was slowly getting better.

* * *

**Eh. It's okay, I guess. I didn't want to lay on the angst or anything. I don't know whether metal fusion is a thing? I know about heavy and light metal. Not into heavy metal, but I loooooooooove Bon Jovi (light metal). Yeah, I studied pop music at university level.**

**So! Jade01 bugged me in a couple of reviews for this pairing, and it's just another slice of happiness before I break out the angst again in the next chapter. Because we have to have angst. And I threw in background Sam/Steve, because I got Mum to watch 'Cap 2' with me yesterday, and those boys are cute together.**

**Please review, peeps!**


	32. You Do Know (Jemma x Phil x Raina)

**Note: Again, took lines from the script for 'A Hen in the Wolf House'.**

"You Do Know"

Phil knew who she was the moment he set eyes on her. Pictures were unnecessary; the flower dress was a dead giveaway. Raina looked him over, and he waited for her to speak.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure," she said.

_Shit. Please don't let it be her…_

"Lucky for you," he muttered. Judging by the way her eyes widened a fraction, he was unfortunately right. Well, this complicated matters. Unless her 'Clairvoyant' had told her the words on Phil's skin? It was a fairly generic phrase, as soulmarks went.

Then they were talking, and she made no mention of it. He only hoped to hell that he could keep Simmons away from her. It was platonic between Phil and his bio-scientist, and he had no interest in Raina. If there was supposed to be a non-platonic relationship between two in the triad… no. He couldn't let that happen.

_But Simmons has words in the same writing. They'll meet one day. I can't stop that. I can only hope that Simmons gets out of it alive._

Then he was being taken away, and nothing more was said. Not until they were in the helicopter – which reminded him of an old SHIELD design – and Phil and Raina were seated side by side.

"Did you already know my words?" he asked.

"No," she said. "But now I know why the Clairvoyant sent me especially to you." She looked up at him through her eyelashes. It wasn't going to work.

"I'd never bond with you," he said.

"Are you so sure about that?"

"You can't force a bond, either."

"No, but I can be very persuasive. Do you know who our third is?"

"No."

"Are you lying?"

"No. I presume it's a man, considering that my tastes run both ways. You don't know who it is, either?"

She shook her head, looking away again. Good. Sold.

As long as he got out of this – and he had faith that his team would find him – he could keep Raina away from their third.

* * *

_Months later_

It was the first time Phil had seen Raina since the fall of SHIELD, and he hated the date-like feel to their meal together.

"You've changed, Agent Coulson."

"Might just be circumstance, considering last time you had me strapped into your little memory machine."

"I was only trying to help."

And then she chose to threaten Simmons.

"Right now, HYDRA's looking for a spy within their ranks. I wonder what would happen to Agent Simmons if this were to fall into the wrong hands…"

It was time to weigh up his options. He needed Simmons at HYDRA for as long as possible, but every new day was just another gamble that her life wouldn't end when she was found to be a traitor. At least he had Bobbi on the inside, and she knew the procedure if Simmons was exposed.

"I don't like being threatened."

"This isn't a threat. It's a gesture of goodwill. I would like nothing more than to delete that photo."

"And in return, what do you want?" Phil asked. How did she intend to play this game?

"From you? Nothing. But I will need to take Skye with me."

"Excuse me? What in the hell is this really about? And why, also in the hell, do you think I would ever let that happen?"

Raina smirked slightly. "To prevent every HYDRA employee from receiving an automated email with that photo." She clicked something on the screen. "You have two minutes, after which there's nothing I can do."

"Where are you planning to take Skye?" Seriously, what was her end game? Bobbi would known exactly when to strike, although he wished he could get a message out to her to cut the email systems at HYDRA, just temporarily. But… he missed Simmons, and he felt better having her back on the team. It wasn't just because they were soulmates, and being close felt soothing and natural. Then Raina dropped the bombshell.

"Somewhere she's always wanted to go. To meet her dad."

Phil heard the conversation taking place in the background, but he didn't let it distract him.

"So you're, what, working for Skye's father now?"

"I'm just trying to make the best out of a difficult situation."

"By threatening the life of one of my agents?" Phil asked incredulously. How the hell had this woman ended up as one of his soulmates?

"By allowing one to find out who she really is. That's what Skye's been searching for her whole life." Phil knew that, damnit. "Ask her yourself, Agent Coulson."

He was tempted to correct her and say 'Director Coulson', but restrained himself.

As they talked, and Skye argued with him, the time ticked down. Phil knew he wasn't risking much by letting the photo get out; Bobbi was constantly on alert for threats to Simmons' safety, and as head of security she'd have to be called first anyway. Letting Skye anywhere near her father was the real danger. Bargaining with Raina was also a real danger. He had no reason to trust her, and could only assume that being one of her soulmates was an administrative error.

"You're running out of time," Raina said, gesturing towards the tablet and its timer. "Give Skye what she wants or else Agent Simmons dies."

On the other hand…

"You do know that she's our soulmate?" Phil said. He peeled the band off his wrist and showed Raina the writing that would match hers, if they shared soulmateship with Simmons. Her eyes widened and she gasped.

"It's…"

"Do you really want to let her die?"

"You… you were never going to make the deal," Raina said disbelievingly. "Because—"

"I didn't think you'd want to let your other soulmate down," Phil said. "But if I'm wrong, go ahead. Let the timer run out."

Skye began to yell at him again, but Phil heard May calming her. He tilted his head as he watched Raina warring with herself.

"No one needs to get hurt," she said quickly, her hand hovering over the tablet.

"This is your chance to pick the right side," Phil said. "I'm sure we could use your talents, but… oh, look. Ten seconds left."

"You have to know something I don't," Raina said.

"I'm taking the chance that you're not as cold-hearted as you seem."

She closed her eyes, as if she was in pain, and hesitated a second too long. The timer went off, and she looked like she'd been slapped.

"I… can't believe you'd sacrifice your soulmate," she whispered.

"Yet I can fully believe it of you. You made the wrong choice, Raina."

"I… I had no choice." She looked close to tears. Phil remained unmoved.

"Tiny violin's playing, but no one's listening, sweetheart," he said. "Who's making you do this?"

"HYDRA."

"Gee, now if only there was someplace safe from HYDRA at the moment," Phil said dryly. "I can't think of anywhere."

Raina swallowed, and met his eyes.

"You can't…?"

"After you sacrificed your soulmate? I gave you the option of saving her, and yourself, and you left it too long." He tapped his finger on the table. "None of this was necessary, Raina."

"He won't stop until he gets to her," she said, glancing around. Whether she was looking for Skye or her father, Phil didn't know, nor did he care.

"You're scared of him, and you don't scare easily," he said. One of the few things that he could admire about her.

"He's a very dangerous man," she said. "You wouldn't believe the stories."

He would. "Well, now we've established Skye's old man isn't father of the year, what's next?" Phil said, growing bored.

"Take me in. Please."

"Sorry. No vacancies."

"Once I walk out that door, Whitehall will kill me," she said, her voice shaking. Something inside Phil wavered, but Raina was the enemy, and they couldn't afford to take risks right now, at all.

"It's possible," he said. She bowed her head, and he saw a tear fall as she looked at the timer showing only zeroes.

"Jemma," she murmured. "What have I done?"

What would Simmons do?

Probably something different.

"Or," he said, and Raina raised her head. "Maybe you and I will work together after all."

"What?"

"Tag and tail it is, then."

The tracking chip was quickly implanted, and Raina gasped, staring at him.

"You're gonna use me to get to Whitehall," she said. She was quick.

"He'll be trying to find you," Phil pointed out. "Whether or not we're there to save you when he does, that's your call, depending on how useful you make yourself. You can start by telling us how to find Skye's father."

* * *

Jemma knocked at the door. Coulson looked up, and he smiled when he saw her.

"How are you going, settling back in?" he said. She shrugged.

"I wasn't able to grab my things before leaving, but I'm just glad to be back in one piece. Thank you again for sending in Agent Morse."

"You're welcome," he said.

"I wasn't sure whether she'd be our third or not."

"No, she isn't."

"Well, I worked that out when our words didn't match," Simmons said, smiling.

"I… know who it is," he admitted. She gaped.

"Really?" she said. "Who is it?"

"The woman who sold you out?" Simmons clearly hadn't been told who it was, because she chewed her bottom lip and waited for him to clarify. "Raina?"

She inhaled unsteadily. "Oh my goodness."

"Or words to that effect."

"The woman in the flower dress… who's made our lives hell on more than one occasion… and blew my cover at HYDRA…"

"Yes," he said. "Which is why I didn't tell you after you all rescued me in the desert."

"No," she said. "No, I suppose that's reasonable. But when is she supposed to say this?" She gestured to her arm. Phil knew the words there. 'Thank you for that'. "And what am I supposed to say in return?"

"Anything or nothing," he said. "She recognised the writing; clearly she has a mark. But you choose what to say when the time comes."

"Do you think I actually help her, or is she being sarcastic?"

Phil fought the urge to roll his eyes. He understood Simmons' concern. "I don't know. There isn't a font for sarcasm yet. You'll have to wait and see what happens. In the meantime, I'll try to avert fate by keeping you away from each other."

"Is that a wise move, sir?" Simmons asked. He moved his shoulders in a token shrug, but there was no real energy to it.

"We'll see what happens," he repeated. "Try not to think about it."

She nodded, and then left the office. Phil rubbed his temples, and tried to drive both his soulmates out of his thoughts.

Two pretty young women, one evil, one good. What the hell did that make Phil?

* * *

_Some canon divergence later_

Raina had studied the obelisk, and its fellow Diviners, which had all come from Mount St. Helen's Volcano in Washington. Every eruption led to another Diviner being released, picked up by a HYDRA agent in Washington. The obelisk everyone was after had been the last artefact created by the volcano. After weeks of being pursued by both sides, she'd flirted her way into stealing the obelisk and was now returning it to its place of origin. With any luck, the obelisk would be destroyed, rather than causing a volcanic eruption.

It was a definite risk, but one she was willing to take.

"That would not be a sensible move."

Whitehall had followed her here. Of course he had. Where was Skye's father when she needed him? He was hell-bent on killing Whitehall; it would have been the absolute best timing in the world.

She sighed.

"You'll kill me either way," she said. "I can do this for my soulmates."

"Your soulmates?" Whitehall said, and he laughed. "If you are doing it for them, they must be against me, which means they are against you. They would never accept you, Raina."

"And you would?" She continued to hold the obelisk away from her body. If she threw it into the volcano, that was it. The end of her. If she didn't, Whitehall would take her down for her attempted betrayal, and the object would fall into the wrong hands.

As far as she was aware, the tracker chip hadn't been disabled. But would Coulson's team get there in time? Was there even the slightest chance that Simmons was still alive?

"Don't we already?" Whitehall said. His sinister smile turned harder. "Didn't you already accept us?"

Raina looked away, sweating from the heat of the lava. She noticed people running towards them. Whitehall's people, or Coulson's? Everything was growing hotter, like the volcano could sense that the obelisk there. Her vision blurred, and she shook her head.

"No," she said. Then she flung the obelisk into the mountain. The roar of blood in her ears nearly drowned out Whitehall's scream of frustration. There was a gunshot – she didn't know where it came from, or who was hit – but she began to teeter backwards. She tried to steady herself, tried to reach out for the railing that was supposed to be there, and lost her footing instead. This would hurt like hell…

Just as Raina began to fall, a cold hand clasped her wrist and pulled. It wrenched her shoulder, and she hissed at the ache. Her feet still went from under her, and she lost at least one shoe to the flames below.

"Just hold on, Raina!" a voice called. She tried to reach out with her other hand, and someone gripped it.

"Come on, we've got you."

"Coulson?" she said, blinking furiously to get her sight back under control. She was led far away from the mouth of the volcano, and stood there on unsteady legs.

"Just get your breath back," he said. She nodded, and then glanced to the side. The small hand was still holding onto her.

"Thank you for that," she said.

"You're welcome." Raina's gaze sharpened, and she recognised the girl on her left side.

"You were the one who said 'Just hold on, Raina', weren't you?" she said. "Those are my words."

"Just as yours are mine," Simmons said, stroking her back. "Let's get you sitting down, shall we?"

"Ye…"

Exhausted, Raina fell into Coulson's arms, and tried to stay awake as her soulmates spoke to her, shook her shoulders. She groaned at the burst of pain from her sore one.

"Lie her down, lie her down, carefully."

"I'm being careful, Simmons."

"Why are we helping her again?"

"Be quiet, Skye. Here. Fold up my jacket and put it under her head…"

* * *

They watched her stirring awake.

"I don't like this," Phil said. Simmons shrugged.

"We have no choice," she said. "Raina knows things about the Diviners that we do not."

"Why does she look human again?"

"That's something only she can answer, I imagine."

He sighed, and grimaced when she looked over at them. She was attractive, and used that to her advantage. She would've made a good second Natasha Romanov. Well, with a bit more physical training. There was no one quite like the Black Widow. He'd once perversely imagined what Raina and Simmons would look like together, milk chocolate and white chocolate, intense and light. Bad and good, like the yin and yang. That's when he reminded himself that it was a bad road to go down, and that he was doing Simmons a disservice by even thinking about it.

"Would you want her?" he found himself asking. Then he mentally kicked himself, especially when Simmons goggled at him.

"What?" she squeaked.

"I mean… never mind. Sorry. It's… because we're soulmates. You just have to wonder."

Simmons turned her head to watch Raina again, who was trying to pretend that she wasn't looking at them while she drank from the water bottle.

"I would have, if she wasn't on the wrong side," she said.

"And if she joined the right side?"

"She's been responsible for so many deaths, so much pain." Simmons looked at him with moist eyes. "Look at what she did to you. Look at what happened to Trip!"

"And at what point would you start forgiving people?" he asked. "What about the Winter Soldier?"

She shook her head. "He didn't have autonomy. Most bad people have the choice, and they make the wrong one."

"Hey, how do you think I feel about this whole thing?" Phil asked, arching an eyebrow when Simmons looked at him. "I met her just before she kidnapped me and blew up Mike Peterson. Not exactly the best circumstances. At least you met her after she destroyed a dangerous object and nearly fell to her death."

"That doesn't make me feel any better, sir."

He squeezed her shoulder. Simmons opened the door, and he followed her into the room.

"Thank you again for saving my life," Raina began.

"Strategic," Phil said. "Clearly you have more experience and knowledge when it comes to these Diviners."

"They're dangerous. I was trying to keep you away from them—"

"Because of course we have absolutely no experience with dangerous and unstable objects," Simmons said dryly. Phil chuckled, and Raina smiled self-deprecatingly.

"Of course," she said. "Did it ever occur to you… that if you'd let me die, you might've gotten a new soulmate?"

"Yes," Phil said. "But we were able to save you. It would be negligent not to try."

"I'll do what I can to help you, but it's imprecise—"

"The location of Skye's father would also be good."

"He moves around, and he'll probably know by now that you have me."

"But if he thinks you can take Skye to him, he'll believe anything you say," Simmons said.

"Do you really want to risk losing her? He's… _insane_."

"We're used to dealing with insanity," Phil said. "We need information. Everything you know."

Raina frowned. "I don't like doing this. Once you start, you can never look back."

"We passed the point of no return a long time ago." He held out a notepad and a few pens. "Get started. If you need anything, ask the camera and someone will bring it to you."

"I'm good at making sandwiches," Simmons said. Raina half-smiled. Then Phil ushered Simmons out the door and closed it behind them.

"That'll keep her busy for awhile, if she does what she's promised," he said.

"Do you think she'll do the right thing?"

"She'd better. She's right. If she died, we'd probably get a new soulmate. But I can't bring myself to kill someone like that; it sets a bad precedent."

"The alternative is to jail her, and it won't do us any good," Simmons said. Phil felt her hand brush his as they walked along, and he twined their fingers together.

"We'll figure something out," he said. "There are ways. You know that."

"I know."

* * *

**Author doesn't know. Author gives up on this chapter. I have no idea how I could get them all to bond in the companion piece. (Which I **_**will**_** start soon, I promise.)**

**Please don't be angry with me for this story, but I wanted to try something with Raina. At first I was just thinking Phil, and then I remembered when Raina exposed Jemma as a spy. Decided to make things a bit more interesting. But… how do I fic? I don't know anymore.**

**I've noted down everyone's ship requests, and will try to fill most of them. It's been hellishly busy lately, or so it feels, and I didn't get the job I interviewed for last week. But then I didn't have the necessary qualifications and experience; I only got short-listed because I've been volunteering there for a year and a half. (Yeah, that's the interview where I'm pretty sure I left everything thinking I was a nutcase.)**

**Please review! Author needs a boost in spirit due to terrible chapter.**


	33. Hack Into My Heart (Skye x Tony)

"Hack Into My Heart"

It should never have started, but if Flower hadn't tried to hack into Stark Tower, Tony wouldn't have had to stop it. And he wouldn't have had to get so damn interested when he discovered that she – yeah, Flower identified as female – was actually a formidable opponent. It became a kind of game between them. Tony would give her an in, she'd find another one and nearly succeed, and he'd throw up a block at the last second. She would admit defeat, and insist that one day she'd get into the system.

For Tony, it was a weird form of flirting. Not as awkward as the time he'd told Bruce that he actually jacked off to one of Bruce's articles. There wasn't a near Hulk-out, but Bruce avoided him for two days straight, and blushed every time they met. It took a week before things got back to normal. In hindsight, it wasn't one of Tony's better ideas.

"Where did you learn all this?" he murmured as he typed. They had an open chat as Flower tried to break his coding, and Tony kept an eye on the systems. Although he had JARVIS to do it, that would be cheating.

'_Mostly self-taught. Now stop distracting me._'

"Come on, Flower. Perty Flower."

There was nothing for a minute. Then…

'_Damn it, my boss needs me._'

"You're doing this while you work?"

'_I'm doing this while I'm waiting for work. Talk to you later. Next time…_'

"Yeah, yeah. Dream on, Flower Girl."

'_Jackass._'

"You'd like my ass. Everyone likes my ass."

'_Just to look at it? Seriously, though, I have to run._'

Tony sighed. When had this become his life?

* * *

The next time they scheduled was Valentine's Day, weirdly enough. Totally not Tony's fault; it was JARVIS who suggested it, actually, and Tony wondered whether he was being set up by his AI.

"Let's talk first," he said, typing away as soon as he saw that Flower was on.

'_No time to waste, Mr. Stark._'

"If you're not gonna call me Tony, call me something else."

'_Alright, Something Else. Now be quiet. I'm running on a tight schedule here._'

"But it's our first Valentine's Day together, honey." Tony considered sending that, and glanced up at the ceiling. "What do you think, J?"

"I do not see how my opinion could possibly be considered valid when it comes to amorous interactions, sir."

"Was the word 'amorous' intentional?"

"How could I possibly use a word unintentionally?"

"Brat," Tony said. He sent the message anyway, and waited for a reply. He drank half of his coffee before it came.

'_Are you flirting with me?_'

"Am I…? Is she kidding, JARVIS?"

"I would not know, sir."

"No, seriously." He brought his keyboard closer and typed fiercely. "Of course I've been flirting with you, Flower. For weeks. Months. How did you not pick up on that?"

There was nothing for awhile, and he hoped he hadn't scared her off. She was continuing to hack the system, so it's not like she'd disappeared. When another break came, he got a reply.

'_Guys have let me down in the past. I don't know what or who to trust anymore. I can't even tell if someone's interested. Besides, there's no body language between us. It's not like I can judge any other way._'

"So? We could meet."

There was another long pause. He headed her off when she got to close to breaking into the system, marvelling that she got that far. If he could find her, he would recruit the hell out of her. (Then take her to bed, because she had a beautiful mind and he wanted to make love to every part of her… not that that was an appropriate thought to be having right now.)

'_Not a good idea, Something Else. I know you're capable of looking after yourself, but I've still got enemies._'

"A hacker like you? I'm not surprised."

'_Not those kinds of enemies._'

"Just one voice-to-voice chat, sweetheart. Okay? It can be your reward for hacking my system, if you manage."

'_Why would I want that?_'

"Oka-ay," he said to himself. "Why wouldn't she want that? JARVIS?"

"Are you asking my opinion again, sir?"

"Sounds like it'd be a waste of breath."

"You never take my advice seriously, sir. Why would you start now?"

Tony resumed typing. "If I block you this time, I get to open a voice-chat."

'_Ugh, fine. But I've been practising. Now don't interrupt._'

"I never said I played fair, Bluebell."

'_Not my name._'

"But I'm gonna have fun guessing."

"Sir, she is actually breaking the code."

"What?" Tony nearly fell off his chair, and he pulled the screen closer. "JARVIS, we have to stop her."

"You will not allow her a win just this once?"

"Can't," he said, fixing the code furiously. "Who knows what her end game is?"

"You should have thought of that before you began this competition."

Tony snorted, trying to catch up. "I'm betting you advised against it at the time?"

"Vehemently, sir."

"Great."

Fantastic.

She'd done it.

"Okay, Daffodil, show's over. Don't make me shut down the electrics here."

'_Nah, that wouldn't be any fun. And you still haven't guessed my name._'

"Rosemary?"

'_That's a herb._'

"Damn." He sighed. "And I really wanted to talk to you for once."

Nothing for about ten seconds. JARVIS had already started repairs. Tony was just about to switch off the computer when there was a reply.

'_Fine, but make it quick. I'm on my own._'

"That's my favourite type of phone conversation," he said, grinning, and he opened up a two-way voice-chat. He couldn't hack her webcam, but he could do this. He cleared his throat, straightening in his chair.

"What've you got for me now?" Flower asked.

Tony's world damn near stopped. Even the lighting seemed to falter, like JARVIS was surprised by this turn of events as well.

_Say something. Anything, so she'll know it's you._

"All the time in the world, if you want it," he said, pleased with himself for the suave sentence.

There was silence again. She was probably reeling just as much as he was. His soulmark had been kept tightly under wraps all his life. It was the reason he always wore long socks, even in bed, and why his bathroom was the most secure place in Stark Tower.

"Shit," Flower said.

Then she disappeared. Tony blinked, and tried to find her; but she was completely offline.

"Okay, that reaction was unexpected," he said. "J, did you see that coming?"

"I did not anticipate any of this, sir," JARVIS said.

"I never should've installed that shocked voice in your programming. A flat tone would be so much more reassuring right now." He groaned, sitting back in his seat. "My soulmate just rejected me, JARVIS."

"So I noticed, sir."

"You know what that means, right?"

"Binge drinking and bad porn, sir?"

Tony pointed at the ceiling. "You are _so close_, J. This means that I need to get the gang together and bitch about it. Actually, put a call through to Rhodey and Pep. I need people to commiserate."

"Do you wish me to continue attempting to trace Flower, sir?"

"Yes, very smart artificial intelligence of my life. Please find my soulmate for me."

* * *

Skye was sulking through her withdrawal symptoms. Now that she'd hacked her way into Stark Industries once, it'd be almost anticlimactic to do it again.

She didn't want any of the information on the system, per se; she did it for the challenge, and because it was there. Because she needed to pit herself against the best to keep her skills fresh and strong. She wasn't invited to join SHIELD for her physical skills, but for her hacking. Coulson needed her at the top of her game at all times. Even now that she had her earth-quaking powers, she had yet to get those fully under control, so it was useless on missions. One thing which had kept her from letting loose was distracting herself with Tony Stark's challenges.

The tenuous control was sorely tested when Coulson came up to her during breakfast and broke the news.

"I want to get help for you," he said. "Canada or New York: take your pick."

"Uh… New York is closer?"

He nodded. "I thought you'd say that, and I'd prefer to keep you close."

"What are you talking about?"

"And you'll be safer there. Safer than you would be at Xavier's."

"DC, what the hell are you talking about?" Skye said, snapping her fingers in front of his face. He gave her an unimpressed look.

"I'm sending you to the Avengers," he said. "Bruce Banner will be able to help you where we can't, and Romanov and Barton will keep you on your toes in training."

"Uh…" Not good. "Is it too late to change to Canada?"

"Oh, Skye, what an opportunity for you!" Jemma exclaimed, squeezing her hand across the table. "You could work with Tony Stark. I know you're a fan."

"Which is exactly why I shouldn't meet him. I-It'd be awkward."

"Nonsense. What I wouldn't give to meet Bruce Banner… and try out those labs…" She sighed dreamily, but sat up straight quickly enough when she met Coulson's eyes. "Not that it isn't wonderful to work here, much less stressful than working at HYDRA, and… never mind."

Coulson's lips quirked. "Regardless, you probably won't have much to do with Mr. Stark, unless he wants to pick your brain. Or try to recruit you." He hummed. "On second thoughts, maybe Professor X—"

"She'll be too far away from us then," May said. "Skye, do you have any legitimate objections to staying with the Avengers?"

"Uh—"

"Just give it a try," Mack said. Why were they ganging up on her? "If it doesn't work out, we'll come rescue you."

Skye just hoped she wouldn't run into her soulmate.

* * *

May took her there, in an attempt to keep the Avengers from finding out that Coulson was alive. She couldn't say 'still alive', of course; more like 'alive again'. But then she couldn't say anything at all about it to her new house-mates. Tower-mates.

And especially not Tony Stark. If he didn't recognise her voice, his AI probably would, not to mention the words on her feet. She resolved to speak quietly and infrequently.

"They know what brought on your powers," May said as they travelled up in the elevator. Skye gaped at her.

"What?" she said.

"Dr. Banner needed to know what he was working with, the same with Barton and Romanov. Which means that Stark found out and told everyone else."

Skye buried her head in her hands. "This is a bad, bad idea." May patted her shoulder.

"You'll be fine," she said. "Coulson wrote some very creative threats which I've conveyed."

"Even a threat to Captain America?" Skye asked, curious.

"Yes. It was one of the nastier ones."

"I guess it'd have to be, what with super healing."

They arrived on the floor where Skye was going to be introduced to the team.

The whole team, judging by the large crowd waiting for her.

"Shit," she muttered as May led her closer. Tony Stark's head jerked up and he stared at her. She averted her eyes. He couldn't possibly have known it was her just from that one word.

…Admittedly, it was the last thing she'd said to him.

"Nice to meet you, Skye," Bruce Banner said, looking at her over the top of his glasses.

"You too, Dr. Banner," she said, shaking his hand. "My friend Jemma's a big fan."

"You're the hacker," Tony said. Skye nodded, still unable to look at him directly.

"No poaching her from SHIELD," May said. "You got my message."

Tony ignored her which, y'know, not exactly sensible. Especially if Skye knew anything about Coulson's 'creative threats'.

"Show me your soulmark," he said.

"Stark!" May snapped. "Back down."

Tony approached Skye, all his focus on her. "Show me. Your goddamn. Soulmark."

"You have no right—"

"It's okay," Skye said. "He does have the right."

"As soon as I found out you were a hacker whose birth name was a flower, I… I had to hope."

"What?" May said. It was a popular word. Skye removed her shoe and pulled off her sock. Then she held onto May's arm as she raised her foot. Tony knelt before her and stroked the words on her sole. Skye giggled involuntarily, and he looked up at her with a smile. Then he sprang to his feet and hauled her into a kiss. She relaxed, holding him close and letting him work it out of his system. When he finally pulled away, Skye drew in a deep breath and scrunched her fingers in his hair, keeping him close.

"Hi, Something Else," she whispered.

"Why the hell did you hang up?" he growled.

"I freaked. I'm sorry. I've… had bad relationships before—"

"Because they weren't with your soulmate," Tony said, frowning. "I've had that problem myself."

"Yeah, I think everyone knows that."

He winced. "At least… I'm experienced?"

"Hey, haven't got much of a leg to stand on."

"On the contrary." He ran his hands down to her hips. "You have two."

May cleared her throat. Skye exhaled slowly, and turned to face her.

"You knew," May said.

"…Yes."

"Why didn't you want to come here if you knew you'd see your soulmate?"

Skye rubbed her arms. "I told you, I was scared." She shrugged. "A tall tower isn't exactly the best place for an earth-shaker to live. Especially." She cleared her throat, blushing. "If bonding happened."

Tony blinked, then turned to Bruce.

"Start training immediately," he said. Bruce grinned in amusement.

"As soon as Skye's ready," he agreed.

"How's tomorrow sound?" she asked.

* * *

**Skye Coulson requested this pairing. It was only after I saved the document that I realised the horrific double meaning of the chapter's title. Oops.**

**Please review! And no spoilers. I've got a couple of links to episode 11, so I've got to follow up on that.**


	34. Deduce This (Darcy x Sherlock)

"Deduce This"

Strolling around Greenwich while it was being repaired was possibly not the greatest idea, especially when SHIELD agents hit the scene. Darcy associated Agent iPod Thief with them, which was probably why she hallucinated him. Shaking her head, she wandered away, wanting to avoid the jackbooted thugs for as long as possible. Diplomatic immunity with Thor only extended so far, after all. So she decided to go through the underground tunnel, the one running beneath the Thames. She hadn't been there before, and wanted to see whether it really was as eerie as everyone said.

There was a tall, curly-haired man staring at the scene of destruction and muttering to himself. He clearly wasn't SHIELD – the long coat, the scarf, and the insane look kinda gave it away – so Darcy risked strolling over to him.

"Got a problem with it, mister?" she asked.

"There is something I cannot work out about this," he said. Her mouth fell open, and she saw the moment it clicked for him when his eyes widened. He looked down at her, and she raised her eyebrows as he scanned her body.

"You haven't got any experience with aliens, have you?" she asked.

"Aliens?"

"The kind that fall from the sky. Or come via a rainbow bridge run by a guy named Heimdall. You heard of Thor?"

"Ah, yes," he said, nodding. "Because we're all meant to believe that a mythical Norse god is running around the streets of London."

"He doesn't need to run. He has a hammer he uses to fly around. The cape just makes it look more dramatic. I don't think he's seen _The Incredibles_."

"Mjolnir? You believe in such things?"

"I've seen Mew-Mew myself! My boss, Jane, she's Thor's girlfriend. She's been to Asgard and everything. And you'd believe in gods, too, if you'd seen Thor's arms up close."

"I believe in science," he said. "Not mythology."

"Hey, I'm into science, too," she said, giving him a gentle punch on the shoulder. He frowned. "Okay, poli-sci, but—"

"But you work as an intern in a field of science with which you are unfamiliar. You are obviously from North America, not from the deep south, nor Canada, judging by your accent. You deferred your studies to work with your boss in London, and clearly you have seen activity of this nature before, not to mention your run-ins with the American government—"

"Hold up, hold up," she said, raising her hands to stop him. "How did you know all that? What're you, a mind-reader?"

"I deduced you," he said. "If the rumours are to be believed, this boss of yours is the astrophysicist Jane Foster. I have no interest in the solar system; it has nothing to do with my line of work." He cocked his head. "I _am_ interested in how you came to be my soulmate."

"I was born with my soulmark. What's your story?"

He hesitated, and then held out a hand. She shook it. "Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective. And you are…?"

"What, you couldn't deduce that?" she asked.

"Not without pocketing your wallet and consulting your ID. You're hardly the type to wear name labels in your clothing. Not since you left high school. I find it interesting that you refer to your primary level of education as elementary, though, a favourite word of mine. Do you know why that is?"

"No, I don't," she said, a little dazed. "Darcy Lewis. Intern to Jane Foster, friend to a Norse god or alien, it's open to interpretation."

"What do you believe?"

"I'm on the fence about that. Until I see Asgard, I'm not committing myself one way or another. But the dark elves were definitely aliens. From another planet equals aliens."

"Mmm-hmm." He looked her over again, this time not so much assessing, more looking at her for the sake of looking. He was welcome to.

"What does a consulting detective do? Just to warn you, if you say that it's a detective who consults, I might punch you on the arm again, and this time I won't hold back."

He half-smiled. Or smirked. It was hard to tell, since he'd been pretty expressionless up `til then.

"When Scotland Yard needs my help, I assist them in their investigations," he said. "I also work on a private basis."

"Get a lot of work?"

"Considering the rising rate of crime in London, yes, I do. Especially as the majority of the detectives at Scotland Yard are incompetent at best."

"Wow. Really not feeling safe here any more."

"Are you any safer in America?"

"Well, I'm less likely to get shot at the supermarket here. But I'm not safer from aliens, as it turns out. C'mon." She turned away from the scene. "I was gonna walk under the river. Wanna come with?"

"Very well," he said. "How long are you in London for?"

"Until Jane wants us to leave."

"When will that be?"

"I don't know."

"If you would prefer to listen to your iPod, I won't be offended."

"My iPod?"

"The musical device you keep fiddling with in your coat pocket."

"Ah. Yeah, I love my iPod. I'm glad I didn't lose it in the alien invasion."

"Tell me about SHIELD," Sherlock said. And really, what kind of a name was that? Then again, he'd probably ask her what kind of name Darcy was.

"You wouldn't rather talk about me?" she said. "Or you? Or us?"

"I can discover anything I wish to learn about you either in person or online. No doubt my brother has already discovered everything he can about you, and will meet us in a large black car at the other end of the tunnel."

"…What?"

"Mycroft works for the British government. Or, should I say, he _is_ the British government. He will wish to meet my soulmate."

"Will he scare me?"

"He scares everyone. You?" He examined her again. "I doubt it. You may surprise him."

"Not if he's pulled up my history using one of his lackeys. But how would he know?"

"There are cameras everywhere. People who lip-read. Facial recognition. He will undoubtedly have your full dossier by the time you meet him."

"Yeah, that's not scary at all. He should work for SHIELD."

"I think he prefers working for the queen."

"Queen and country, huh?"

"No. He answers directly to her, on occasion."

Darcy nearly tripped on a non-existent stone, and Sherlock caught her around the waist to stop her from falling. She clutched his arms, and then ran her hands up to his shoulders.

"Well, aren't things looking up?" she said.

"…Yes. We had best get moving."

"Okay, Sherlock," she said, entwining her gloved hand with his. "So, tell me all about yourself. What've you been doing the last five years of your life?"

"Chasing down a criminal mastermind, faking my death for two years, nearly getting sent on a suicide mission after killing a blackmailer, and currently working to find out who is behind the criminal mastermind's return, considering that he committed suicide in front of me. Oh, and I was the best man at my best friend's wedding, which was before his new, pregnant wife turned out to be someone quite different and shot me."

"…Sounds fun."

"And you?"

"Well, I studied for awhile, took on an internship for extra credit, helped stop an alien robot from destroying New Mexico. Uh, hid out in Europe with Jane when Thor returned to stop his crazy brother from leading an alien invasion in New York City, then came over here where we stopped the dark elves from destroying all nine realms."

"I suppose this makes us somewhat compatible, then."

Darcy laughed kind of hysterically. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"I am still baffled as to why Fate chose you for me, but," there was that smirk again, "I look forward to finding out why."

"You don't think your brother will have the answers for you by the time we get out the other side of the tunnel?"

"He is cleverer than I am, but I am still a genius in my own right."

"And I'm used to working with those. I'm kind of a scientist wrangler. I keep them alive by feeding and watering them and making them sleep sometimes."

"John would say that you are the perfect woman for me," Sherlock said, moving her hand so that it was tucked in the crook of his elbow. Darcy leaned into his side as they continued to walk through the ghostly greenish tunnel under the river.

"He's your best friend?"

"Yes. My… only friend, really."

"You've got me now. My friends are gonna see you as their friend, too."

"I may alienate them. Very few people can stand to be around me for a great deal of time."

"Aw." She stopped and kissed him on the cheek, then tugged him along. "We're nearly there. Is there anything else I should know about your brother?"

"You will learn enough simply through conversation with him. He will take us straight to Baker Street. Unless you have somewhere else to be?"

"That's a tube station, right?"

"Yes."

"Great. I have one of those app things which'll help me get back to the apartment where we're all staying at the moment."

"Darcy… if you had no real reason to return to America, would you consider staying here in London? With me? Only if I do not drive you off."

She poked him. "What'd I say? Less likely to be shot in the supermarket here. And it's not like another alien thingy is gonna happen anytime soon. The convergence is kind of a one-in-a-millennium event."

"Mycroft will be delighted to hear that."

"Will Mycroft be 'delighted' to meet me?"

"He will be relieved that I have found my soulmate. He has yet to find his."

"Wait, really?"

"He would not tell me if he had, I'll admit that," Sherlock said, leading her up to the daylight, and the promised black car. A man with an umbrella was leaning against the door, and he looked up as they approached.

"This your brother?" Darcy said. "I can kinda see the resemblance."

"No need to start our relationship by insulting me," Sherlock muttered. Darcy poked him again, earning herself an unamused eyebrow-raise.

"Miss Lewis," Mycroft said.

"You can call me Darcy," she said, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you, Mycroft."

"The pleasure is mine," he said. "Please climb into the car. Would you like to be taken to the flat you share with Dr. Foster, Dr. Selvig, and Mr. Boothby?"

"And Mr. Odinsson," Darcy said. "The god formerly known as Prince Thor. But he's not on the list of renters, and seriously, you know about Ian?"

"I know about everything, right down to what you had for breakfast."

"And brand of toothpaste," Sherlock added.

"You hadn't already told her your deductions?"

"I was attempting to make a good first impression, Mycroft."

"I'll be okay with Baker Street," Darcy said, trying to stop the brotherly argument.

"You may wish to find a better place – or at least learn to tidy up after Sherlock – once you are married," Mycroft said. Darcy nearly hit her head on the way into the car, and Sherlock grumbled something as he followed her.

"Married?" she said. "Dude, we just met twenty minutes ago."

"Our parents will be eager for grandchildren," Mycroft said. "They have certainly dropped enough hints."

"They're unlikely to get any out of Mycroft," Sherlock said acerbically. Darcy just buckled herself in with half-numb hands.

What the hell had she gotten herself into?

* * *

**After bringing Mycroft and Anthea into the Jane/Jemma chapter, there was a call for more **_**Sherlock**_** crossing over. Lavanyalabelle and Bullla both requested Darcy/Sherlock, which could kind of work. I'm still writing Deadpool/Jemma (with background Audrey/Phil), and the chapter's already exceeding 8000 words, bordering on 9000. No idea when I'll have it finished, so I thought I should speed-write a lighter one before the potential heap of angst.**

**Please review!**


	35. Give Me a Sign (Clint x Jemma x Leo)

"Give Me a Sign"

They crept between cars until they reached the entrance to the park. Darkness had only just fallen, which was the very imprecise time they were supposed to meet their contact.

"This is insane," Leo whispered.

"What choice do we have, Fitz? We were separated from the team. Director Coulson told us to rendezvous here, and he'd send someone to take us safely back to base."

"It could be anybody!"

"Shh," Jemma said, resting a finger on her soulmate's lips. "Now isn't the time to lose our heads."

"No, we could be about to lose them in an entirely different way. A more permanent way."

She rolled her eyes, grabbed his hand, and led him to the forked tree. From there, they could see a bench, where a man was slouched, his legs crossed out in front of him, and wearing sunglasses.

"Isn't it too late for sunglasses?" Leo said.

"Just give him the signal."

"Och." He looked down at the phone again, trying to remember the gestures he was supposed to make. The battery was getting low, and they'd lost Jemma's phone. "Right. Hold this for me so I can see him."

"There's still enough light," she said.

"But he's wearing shades."

"I… I know those arms."

"Mine? I should hope so."

"No, his! That's Hawkeye, the Avenger!" She elbowed him. "Clint Barton."

Even at this distance, the man's smirk was noticeable. A bit riled now, Leo signed the words Coulson had told him. The man tensed, and then lowered his sunglasses.

"Christ, I hope I didn't just mis-sign, and say something extremely bad," Leo said, lowering his hands. He plucked his phone out of Jemma's hand and started to go over the pictures on Google.

"If it's him, he'll be able to see us well enough from where he is," she said, and she looked at the agent. "Would lips be better?" she stage-whispered, loud in the still air.

"That's not the code phrase!"

"Oh Lord, he's coming over to us," Jemma said, burrowing into Leo's side. "Even if it's not our contact, he really does look like Hawkeye, which means we're safe with him."

"It would explain the glasses. He can't risk blindness from the sun."

"They're probably a special prescription."

They stayed very still as the man approached. Sure enough, it was Clint Barton, tucking his shades into his vest and raising his eyebrows at them.

"What were you using?" he asked Leo.

"I was trying to make it easier by using ASL, but… it didn't work?"

"I looked up British Sign Language especially."

"Oh." Leo ducked his head. "That's very… thank you. But I didn't know either, so I was just going off Google."

Clint smirked, and looking Jemma up and down.

"And with you, it depends on how you plan to use them," he said.

"Use what?" she asked, baffled.

"Your lips." Then he unbuttoned his tac vest and pulled up his shirt. "This your writing?"

Jemma's eyes widened. "Yes. Oh my God. You… you said my words."

"Mine, too," Leo said.

"Fitz!"

"I know, Simmons."

"You call each other by your last names?" Clint said, straightening his clothes again.

"Everyone calls us FitzSimmons," Jemma said.

"So it just made sense to continue like that," Leo added.

"But I wouldn't mind calling you 'Clint'."

"Neither would I."

"Hold that thought," Clint said, pulling his ringing phone out of his pocket. "It's Coulson, probably wondering why I haven't checked in. Hang on." He hit the answer button and held the mobile to his ear. "I've got them here. Well, we're busy talking. If you have to know, they're my soulmates. Seriously? You sneaky son of a bitch. Be honest, that's why you get us all to fill out paperwork, isn't it, to see our handwriting?"

"He knew?" Jemma said. No, she did _not_ squeak, no matter what Leo's snigger and Clint's grin implied.

"We'll come at our own damn pace. Yeah, and we'll meet up with you when we're ready as well." That time, Leo was the one to blush. "Half an hour? I can't do much in that time, boss. Fine, fine. If you think there's more room for us on the bus. Why do you even call it that?" He sighed. "Okay, I'm bringing them in. You too, Coulson." He hung up, and smiled ruefully. "My car's this way. Let's go."

"Director Coulson sent you all the way to fetch us because he knew we were soulmates?" Jemma said.

"Yeah. Set up the whole damn thing, the match-making bastard."

"I think we owe him a damn big vase of flowers and a lifetime subscription to Cadbury," Leo said as they trailed behind Clint to a plain sedan. Clint urged them both into the back, so that they could duck at a moment's notice if someone opened fire.

"I know you two are valuable to Coulson, and now you're valuable to me," Clint said. "So buckle up."

They made it back to base in sixteen minutes. When all three were out of the car, Clint ushered them around to the dark side, out of sight of Agent May.

"If you're happy together, I won't ask to be a romantic third," he said. "But I'm hoping I can convince you to give me a chance."

"You… you want to be with us?" Jemma said, her eyes widening. "But you're a superhero! And I thought you were linked with the Black Widow!"

"She's not my soulmate," he said. "You two are."

"Well, that would, uh, that would be nice," Leo said, moving half a step closer to Clint. He and Jemma smiled their twin smiles of mischief. Slowly, Clint grinned.

Then he hauled Leo close and kissed him. Jemma cursed as Clint turned and pressed Leo against the front passenger door, exploring his mouth with a single-minded focus that was razor sharp, lethal, and extremely arousing. He let go with a final nibble, and then pulled Jemma into his arms. She trembled as he coaxed her lips apart and dived in, one hand on her upper back and the other sneaking beneath her blouse. He stroked a patch of burning hot skin, and she whimpered.

No sooner had she made a sound that he broke the kiss and shushed her.

"Don't want May coming out and finding us like this, do you?" he said. "Damn, I wish I had more time, but this'd be better in a bed. And with more light. I wanna see the two of you." He manoeuvred Jemma in front of Leo and sandwiched her between them. "Where are your marks?"

"P-put it this way," Leo said, one hand on Jemma's waist and the other on Clint's upper arm, "we'd probably have to be in about this position to b-bond." Clint was grinding gently against Jemma, which was pushing her back against Leo's hips.

"I like the sound of that," he said.

"Barton, are you bringing them in, or do I have to send for Coulson?" May called. All three sighed.

"Coming!" he called back.

"Oh no," Jemma said, tracing a finger down the front of his vest. "Not yet, you're not."

"Later, when the others have gone to bed," Leo said. "Then yeah, definitely."

"Looking forward to it already."

* * *

Clint watched them as they sauntered off, hips swinging slightly. He dogged their steps, reminding himself to be alert for threats, although it was really hard when he was faced with his two young soulmates, both science geniuses and tough as nails. They also had a sass about them that no one had mentioned, and was possibly something they only showed to each other. And now Clint, because he was their soulmate.

He claimed it was to save the batteries in his hearing aids, but one of his soulmarks was the real reason Hawkeye requested code phrases to be signed when he was meeting strangers. He had a vague suspicion that he'd meet both soulmates at once, else his other soulmark – 'Would lips be better?' – would sound way less innocent. And he'd always known they were younger than him, considering the rough dates he'd received his soulmarks. If it wasn't for SHIELD – and especially Coulson and Natasha – he probably would've tried to keep FitzSimmons as friends due to the age difference.

But with experience and good friends came self-acceptance. He was in a dangerous profession, and had no reason to expect to live to a ripe old age while his soulmates grew tired of him and left. He was gonna seize the chance while he could.

May was all but tapping a foot as Clint stuck close to them, and she shut the door a nano-second after he walked through.

"Coulson wants to see you in his office," she said.

"He sent us to each other," he said.

"But there's the shovel-talk."

Grumbling, Clint stalked up to Coulson's office. He resisted the urge to close the door loudly – he wasn't that much of a child – and plopped down on the seat in front of the director.

"I'm not gonna hurt them," he said.

"I should hope not."

"I've been waiting too long for this. I'm not gonna screw up my only chance with my soulmates."

"Good."

"Then… why am I here?"

Coulson smiled. "Because no matter what she says, May knows I can come up with far more creative threats than she can. If she thinks I'm doing a good job of scaring you out of your wits, then you don't have to face the same from her."

"…I knew there was a reason you're my favourite."

"Go. And look suitably terrified."

* * *

May watched a much paler Clint Barton emerge from the office. He put on a brave face for FitzSimmons, who naturally reassured him, before going to the office when beckoned. Barton kept touching points on his bodies, no doubt the parts which had been threatened the most creatively. She remembered one time when Phil described to someone the ways in which he could get information from them, all with a pleasant smile, while the suspect was nearly writhing where they sat and bursting with information. Even a tenth of that scariness would be enough to make Barton's hairs stand on end.

"They'll like me, won't they?" he said. She tipped her head.

"I don't think you'll have to work for it," she said noncommittally. He grimaced.

"They deserve better," he said.

"They won't think so, Barton. Just don't hurt them."

"Yeah. I… I got that that would be a bad thing. Believe me." He winced, and looked away from her. She half-smiled.

"Right!" Simmons said, her voice slightly higher-pitched than usual as she and Fitz closed the office door and approached their soulmate. "Let's go and have some tea, shall we?"

"And sandwiches," Fitz said. "You like sandwiches, don't you? Everyone likes sandwiches. Tell us what you like and we'll make it. Anything."

May shook her head. She had a feeling that Coulson would give those two the shovel-talk as well. He'd always been protective of Clint Barton. She would have to warn Romanov not to threaten them, though; FitzSimmons were no use to the team if they were on constant alert for Russian spies.

* * *

**I don't even know anymore.**

**Gabrielle_Maxwell requested this ship at least once, and zandperl asked what kind of mark a deaf person would receive. I didn't really answer it in this, did I? But when I was researching sign language for this chapter – before deciding I couldn't write it well enough – I discovered sign-writing. It's a system of written versions of sign language. Apparently. But since the soulmark is in your soulmate's handwriting, it would just be however they wrote the words first addressed to them.**

…**Author is confused. Author is coming down with a sore throat, and still working on the Deadpool/Jemma chapter. It's lo-o-o-ong, with no end in sight.**

**I've also been working on a non-soulmate AU fic with fem!Phil being dosed with sex pollen and trusting Garrett, Sitwell, and Blake to help her through it. And she's in love with Blake. Then all the HYDRA stuff, and… yeah. Might adapt it for one of these chapters. I don't know. Kind of just wanna write Phil/Garrett and Phil/Felix.**

**Please review!**


	36. You Give Love a Bad Name (Blake x Jemma)

**Note: Some dialogue taken from 'The Hub' quotes page on IMDb.**

"You Give Love a Bad Name"

_FZZT_

Jemma Simmons gazed out the window of the lab, still on edge, and watched as Agent Coulson handed the helmet over to Agent Blake. She'd heard that he had ordered her (the 'infected cargo') to be thrown off the plane, rather than allow her to come up with a cure. Well, she'd taken that out of his hands when she chose to sacrifice herself, needless though it was.

Agent Blake looked past Coulson and met Jemma's eyes. She lifted her chin, eyes narrowing, and waited for _him_ to look away first. She wasn't going to be intimidated by a senior officer on her own turf. He couldn't touch her while she was under Coulson's protection. And now Ward's protection as well, which was lovely.

"He can't do anything to you," Fitz said, touching her back. She smiled sweetly at him, and then returned her attention to Blake, who was still watching her. He looked away, spoke to Coulson, and then left with the Chitauri helmet.

"He was following regulations," she admitted. "Agent Coulson was the one who broke protocol—"

"And saved your life!"

"I know," she said. "But be honest, Fitz. If I was any other agent, if Coulson didn't know me personally, would he have disregarded orders? Or would he have done what he was supposed to?"

"No," Fitz said, shaking her by the elbows. "Because he knew that you could fix the problem, whether it was your life on the line or someone else's."

She smiled. "Sweet of you, Fitz."

"That's me. Always the sweet one."

* * *

_The Hub_

Walking through the Hub with a straight back and a nervous smile, Jemma muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

"This is never going to work," she said.

"Do it for Fitz," Skye said.

Heart pounding, she found and opened the hidden panel. Footsteps neared her, and she gulped. Stay cool, stay calm.

"Agent Simmons?"

Not the first time she had heard her soulmark words, and certainly neither the ideal place nor time. She pasted a fake smile on her face and turned to see who was disturbing her very, very bad, against-regulations—

Speaking of against regulations.

"It's fine," Skye hissed. "Just play it cool."

"Hello, Mr. Agent Blake, sir," Jemma said. "May I help you?"

He stared at her for a few seconds, and she wondered whether it was supposed to be making her crack. Because she was pretty close to that, and the only thing which stopped her from confessing all was the thought of Fitz and Ward in danger. Especially Fitz. He was a science boffin like her, not a field agent.

"This could be considered problematic," he said. "No one's ever said that to me before."

"Ever said what?" she asked.

In answer, he removed his jacket – enough to make Jemma's eyes bug out of her head – and then rolled up his left sleeve. He held out his arm, and she saw the soulmark in her handwriting. Oh dear.

"Isn't that interesting?" she said, somewhat high-pitched, she could admit.

"You get 'Agent Simmons' a lot, do you?" he said, rolling his sleeve back down.

"What're you _doing_?" Skye was whispered.

"Nothing," Jemma said through her teeth. Agent Blake frowned slightly.

"Nothing?" he said.

"I mean, I get it before people know that I'm a doctor," she said. "Then they tend to call me Dr. Simmons, although both are accurate."

"You can… call me Felix," he said.

"Then you can call me Jemma, I suppose."

"Where's your mark?"

"Oh. It's, uh…" She half-turned, pointing at her lower back. "Here. I'd show you, but this is hardly the time or place."

"Speaking of time or place," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Um." She panicked slightly. "What brings _you_ to this restricted hallway so late at night?" Yes, because that didn't sound suspicious in the _slightest_, and why was she doing this again?

"I could ask you the same thing," Blake said.

"Oh, no, don't," Jemma murmured, trying not to fidget.

"Simmons, focus! Just make up an excuse."

"I was just on my way to the loo," Jemma said, pointing vaguely. "I c-could swear it was two rights and a left, but is that it here?"

"That's a wall panel," he said dryly. "Why are _you_ accessing it?"

"Don't spiral," Skye said. "Just say something. Anything."

"Would you like to see my soulmark?" Jemma blurted. "You know, so you can make sure it's your writing, just in case, for some strange reason, I don't know—"

"It's pretty deserted in this, as you called it, 'restricted hallway so late at night'," Blake said, stepping closer to her. Jemma's heart raced. "You could turn around and I could lift your shirt. The only bathrooms around here are restricted access. Like that panel."

"Um… certainly." Inspired, she faced the wall, blocking it from his view as he raised the back of her shirt. It was difficult to concentrate on helping Skye hack the panel while his fingers were tracing the two words on her skin, taking… taking a bit long…

"Interesting."

"Is it… is it your writing?"

"Yes."

"Great time to meet your soulmate, Simmons, really," Skye said. "And Agent Blake? The guy who wanted Coulson to throw you into the Atlantic?"

"Jemma?"

"He's onto me," Jemma breathed.

"Stop talking to me; he can hear you!"

"Who are you talking to?" Blake asked. Jemma turned around and backed off.

"No one," she said. Yes, she was a horrible liar, but she couldn't tell him the truth.

"Jemma—"

"Okay, I need you to keep distracting him," Skye said.

"I have to go," Jemma said, trying to leave. Blake was faster, and stood in front of her.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"Simmons, remember our team? I need you to stay focussed."

"I'm, uh… meeting my soulmate, obviously."

"You're bugged, and I have a right to know why," Blake said. Less flustered and more annoyed, Jemma drew herself up.

"What right?" she asked. "We never would have met if you'd had your way. I would've either drowned or been electrocuted if Agent Coulson hadn't ignored your orders."

He flinched. "I was following—"

"The rules, I know, but it's not something I can forget."

"I heard that you jumped anyway."

"Yes," she said. "When it was literally the last option, and _not_ the first."

He nodded. "I underestimated your abilities to create a cure. But." He moved closer, still holding onto her arm. "You can't distract me. You're reporting to someone. Who?"

"Don't tell him," Skye said.

"I'm… doing this for my team," Jemma replied. "No one's telling us anything."

"Who's 'us'?"

"Uh…"

"Jemma, you're my soulmate—"

"I didn't know that until now!"

"I wouldn't have wanted you to be thrown out of a plane if I'd known."

"So you'd… bend the rules for me?"

His brow furrowed. "That's not an invitation."

"Please. My best friend is out there and we deserve to know what's happening—"

"Simmons, this isn't the best time," Skye said.

"I know that," she hissed.

"Tell me who you're talking to!" Blake said, tightening his grip. Panicking again, Jemma tore herself away. "Jemma—"

She would never know what made her do it, but she shot him. Perhaps all those classes in self-defence, necessary for any SHIELD employee, had finally kicked in. But he hadn't even hit the floor before she gasped.

"Oh my God, I shot him, Skye."

"You _what_?"

"With an ICER!"

"Okay. Just… get him out of sight and finish up, then _get out of there_. I'll take over at this end."

Jemma dragged Felix around the corner and into an empty room. He still hadn't put his jacket back on, so she folded it up and used it to cushion his head.

"I'm sorry, Felix," she whispered. She hesitated, then kissed his forehead.

* * *

_End of the Beginning; Turn, Turn, Turn_

They all heard May's announcement over the radio.

"May to Hub, Deathlok's here! Blake's down!"

"No," Jemma said, covering her mouth.

"Repeat, Agent Blake is down!"

Neither Jemma nor Skye had told anyone that Agent Blake was her soulmate, and apparently he hadn't told anyone, either, or someone would have approached Jemma with the appropriate paperwork. Coulson was somewhat amused that Jemma had iced him, but he didn't give her any message from Blake, so she had stayed out of sight the rest of their visit.

"Please don't let him be dead," she murmured. "Oh, please…"

He wasn't. Skye reminded her over the phone that as long as her soulmark was black, it meant that Blake was alive. Jemma checked it religiously through the hours that followed. She tried to distract herself by studying Skye's blood in the more advanced labs, but it was hard to concentrate on anything.

Then SHIELD fell. Jemma and Trip were reunited with the team, and Jemma pleaded with Skye to find out where Blake was. He was still alive – the words on her back confirmed it, to her continuing relief – but Deathlok had tried to kill him, and Blake couldn't possibly be HYDRA, which made him a target.

"And what're you gonna do if we find him?" Skye asked, typing away on her laptop.

"_When_ we find him, we're going to take care of him," Jemma said determinedly.

"You barely know the guy. You met him once—"

"And he's my soulmate, Skye. That counts for something."

"What?"

They both turned around – well, Skye turned her head – to see Coulson staring at Jemma.

"What did you say?" he said.

"Agent Blake… is my soulmate," Jemma said.

"And when were you going to tell me this?"

"There didn't seem much point, sir. It wasn't going to go anywhere."

"Because of the age difference?"

"What?" She blinked. "Of course not. Because he doesn't like me. Especially considering that I shot him." Coulson chuckled while she winced. "He was terribly brave and level-headed when he faced Mike Peterson and shot him with a tracker. He can't possibly be HYDRA, sir."

"I thought the same thing about John Garrett," Coulson said.

"But was he your soulmate?"

He sighed. "No."

"Sir, we _must_ find him. I never had the opportunity to apologise to him… not while he was conscious."

"You sent him that card."

"A card?" She growled. "That hardly makes up for it. I owe him more than that."

Coulson looked at Skye. "Let me know as soon as you find him, and we'll get there."

"What if it's one of the places HYDRA has taken?" Skye said.

"Then… we may not be able to risk it."

* * *

HYDRA was attacking and ransacking each SHIELD medical facility, taking out the bigger threats and stealing chemicals and supplies. Three remained by the time they discovered where Agent Blake was being held. He was stable, but in no condition to fight, nor even escape. Not by himself. It was too dangerous, according to Coulson.

"You can drive," Jemma said, poking Skye.

"We're not field agents!"

"We're not going in, guns blazing. We're sneaking in."

"Yeah, because we know what happened last time you sneaked into a SHIELD facility," Skye said, crossing her arms.

"Yes. I found my soulmate, and I intend to again. If you won't take me, I'll go by myself."

"Fine, fine," Skye muttered. "Let's go now, before I change my mind.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Shh!"

Perhaps it was a bad idea; but it wasn't their fault that HYDRA infiltrated the hospital while Jemma and Skye were walking through the corridors. At the first sound of gunfire, they pulled out their ICERs and ran until they reached Blake's ward.

"There he is," Jemma said, and she hurried to her side. "Felix, wake up. Wake up!"

He stirred, frowning, and she kept patting his cheeks until his eyes focussed on her.

"We need to get out of here," she told him.

"Mmm? Jemma?"

"That's right," she said, smiling encouragingly. "It turns out that HYDRA was part of SHIELD all along, and it sounds like they're attacking now, so we need to get you out of here. Can you move?"

"You're the doctor," he said, trying to sit up. "You tell me."

"Put it this way," she said. "If we leave you here, you'll almost certainly die. If we get you out now, you've a far greater chance of living."

"Gotta live," he said. She helped him swing his legs around. "For you."

"That's right," she said. She grabbed the wheelchair from the corner, and found it was thankfully squeak-less. She rolled it to the bed and helped him sit down. "Just put your feet up on these… there."

"Guys, hurry, they're getting closer," Skye said.

"Gimme a gun," Blake said tiredly.

"Not while you can't aim straight," Jemma said.

It turned out that the lifts weren't working, _of course_, which meant the stairs.

"It's only two floors," she said. "Felix, you watch ahead of us and keep an eye out for threats. Skye, will you cover my six?"

"Sure," she said. "But how will you—?"

"It's not the first time I've taken a wheelchair down stairs. Just… not usually this many."

They only encountered two HYDRA agents and a nurse. They iced all three, just in case the nurse reported their location, and sneaked back out the way they came.

…And encountered five HYDRA agents.

"Um… hello," Jemma said.

"Shut it!" Skye said. "You're horrible at improvisation."

"I'll say," Blake grumbled.

"Um, we're just going to go now," Jemma said, pointing to the right. "If you could pretend you haven't seen us, that would be wonder—"

Five shots rang out, sending each agent to the ground. Skye and Jemma both pointed their ICERs to the left, ready to fire.

"Stand down," May said. "Good thing I'm a suspicious person."

"Very good," Jemma said, nodding. "Most excellent. Thank you for being so suspicious."

"Are we getting out of here?" Blake said. May sighed.

"Come on," she said. "You can ride with me. Bonnie and Clyde here can take the vehicle they 'borrowed' from the bus."

"How did _you_ get here?" Jemma asked at the same time that Skye said, "Which one of us is Clyde?"

May helped Blake out of the wheelchair and supported him with an arm around his waist.

"Lola," she said. "Phil needed more fuel for her anyway, and it's good to know that she's still running. Anything might've happened while Garrett was on board."

"I'd prefer to stay with Felix," Jemma said. "Just in case something happens. I _am_ a doctor, after all."

"Fine," May said. "But let's go. Now."

Lola was parked near the van. May helped Blake climb into the passenger seat, though he seemed to be gaining strength. Jemma strapped herself in, not as confident behind the wheel as she should have been; but at least she was with her soulmate.

"Were you ordered to come get me?" Blake asked as they followed Lola's distinctive red.

"No," Jemma said.

"Were you ordered _not_ to?"

She breathed out slowly. "Coulson advised us against it, due to the HYDRA takeover. Um… the Clairvoyant? It's Garrett."

"…Fuck."

"Later," she said absently, indicating to follow the others. When she realised what she'd said, she turned red. She glanced at Blake, who was staring at her.

"I… can pretend you didn't just say that," he said.

"W-well, put it this way," she said, flexing her hands on the steering wheel. She hated driving on the wrong side of the road. And the car. "SHIELD technically no longer exists. No ranks, no rules." She swallowed. "No barriers between soulmates."

"You'd want to?"

"Yes. I've waited all my life. These aren't the best circumstances, but we need to rest sometime. When we're settled, will you… consider bonding with me? At least?"

"At least? It's a huge commitment."

"And I don't want to lose you again," she said. "I think we need all the connections we can make at the moment."

"You don't think life will be more dangerous?" he asked.

"Things will never be the same again," she said. "But I need… I need you, Felix." They approached the bus. "I need all the support I can get; we all do. Please consider it."

Coulson was waiting for them, his arms crossed. Jemma whimpered with nerves. Blake reached over and squeezed her hand. She met his gaze.

"I'm looking forward to coaxing more of those sounds out of you," he said. Then he unbuckled, leaving her sitting there with her mouth open, and climbed out of the van.

"Felix," Coulson said.

"Jemma told me," Blake said.

"And she told _me_. About the two of you."

"What about the two of you?" Fitz said. Well, wasn't this awkward?

"Agent Blake… Felix and I… we're soulmates," she said. She stood close beside him in case he needed to lean against her. "Come along. I want to check you over. I didn't have time to view your medical record and find out what treatment you're being given."

"If you hurt her," Coulson said, "or if you turn out to be HYDRA—"

"She'll give me what for," Blake said. "Or have you forgotten that she shot me about five minutes after we met?"

"That's a story for the children," Jemma said, pulling him along.

"The… the what?"

"I think I'm gonna enjoy this," Coulson said, grinning.

* * *

**And so would I, if I kept going.**

**OneMoreDay and I have been discussing this ship, right down to the horror of Blake wanting Simmons thrown off the bus, and what would happen if he was the one who found her instead of Sitwell.**

**I can't find the Marvel Shorts on Youtube, which makes me sad, because I wanted to show my mother when I started corrupting her into MCU. Not a huge loss, but still a bit saddening. And no, we don't have them on the DVDs here. *Sobs***

**Please review!**


	37. In the Field (BrucexJemmaxJohnnyxSkye)

"In the Field"

Skye was in big trouble. Her escape had been cut off by the spreading fire – thanks _so_ much, Victor von Doom – and she couldn't exactly climb down. Her comm. unit was playing up thanks to interference, and she could only send out her feelings of extreme panic to wherever Jemma was supposed to be. Feelings of concern were returned, and she heaved a huge sigh of relief that someone knew she was in trouble.

"C'mon, Fitz, fix the damn reception," she said through gritted teeth.

Below, Jemma Simmons was racing down the street, ignoring the fighting going on around her, to search for her soulmate. One of three, and she had yet to meet the other two. Now was hardly the time to be thinking about that when she had to find Skye and help her. Until all four soulmates were fully bonded, they could only sense one another's emotions, especially in times of great stress. If Skye couldn't even rescue herself with her powers, let alone her ingenuity, then the situation must have truly been dire.

There was a roar nearby, and she stood quite still as the Hulk bounded into sight. She heard cries above and looked up. Finally! She waved to Skye, who was gesturing towards the Hulk.

Did she honestly think Jemma was going to…? She sighed. If it was the only way, she'd do it. For Skye.

"Excuse me!" she called, walking over to the Hulk. He threw away a Doombot, smashing it to pieces against a wall, and looked down at her. "Could you please help my friend? She's trapped up there and can't get down." He turned towards her and lowered his head. Figuring that he couldn't hear at that distance, she said, "My friend is up there." She pointed. "Could you please fetch her down for me? I would be terribly grateful."

He blinked, then leapt up the side of the building, his huge hands digging into the concrete walls. She heard Skye's scream as he reached out and grabbed her. Then he jumped back down with a landing that shook the ground. He placed Skye beside Jemma, and the girls embraced. Skye looked up at him.

"Thanks so much for saving me," she said.

He grunted, and then went to attack more Doombots. Jemma pulled Skye along, out of the line of fire, and back to where they were supposed to be waiting.

"You got the _Hulk_ to get me down?" Skye said as soon as they could hear each other. "The _Hulk_, Jemma?"

"You asked me to!"

"No I didn't!"

"Well, you certainly pointed at him."

"I was trying to show you he was there so you'd run for cover!"

"He's a little hard to miss, Skye."

Skye huffed out a frustrated breath. "Okay, I'll give you that." She pecked Jemma on the lips. "Thanks for the help. Now get back to Fitz, and I'll jump into the fray. And get the comms online!"

Jemma hurried back to Fitz, and was nearly knocked over by the Human Torch.

"How did you tame the beast?" he asked, jerking his head back towards the Hulk. Jemma blinked twice, shocked, before she replied.

"I'm not going to say that it was beauty, nor will I say that I tamed any beast," she said.

"…What'd you just say?"

"Get back to your job, and let me get back to mine," she said, starting to hurry away. "And find me after everything has calmed down!"

"Uh… yeah! Okay!" Shaking his head, Johnny flew off, and chased the girl who'd been rescued by the Hulk. He knew he should be concentrating on fighting, and he was turning on the flambé for every Doombot he came across. But he was damn curious now, and turned off the flame to fight back-to-back with the girl.

"Are we allowed to murder dictators?" she asked. Johnny grinned when he realised why he'd seen the two kissing.

"I'll answer that if you tell me her secret," he said.

"…What the _hell_?" She kicked one Doombot with particular viciousness, and then shot at another heading their way. She turned and stared at Johnny. He lit a flame on the tip of his right index finger, then blew the fire into the jaws of another rabid robot. Victor seriously had a lot to answer for.

"Hi," he said. "I met your girl. Do you know who our other soulmate is?"

"No," she said. "Are you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna 'flame on'?"

"I can do both."

* * *

Bruce was used to waking among rubble. However, this time he had a pretty woman running to his side with a first aid kit. That wasn't so bad.

"Dr. Banner, thank goodness you're alright," she said in an English accent. "I don't know whether you remember, but you saved my soulmate Skye? I know I thanked you at the time, but in case you've forgotten, I thought I'd say it again."

"Not a problem, always happy to help," he said, sitting up. Her jaw dropped, and he raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Those… my soulmate words… oh my." She unbuttoned her vest and lifted her shirt. "Is this yours?"

He looked closely, and then nodded. "I know, my writing's bad, but then I _am_ a doctor."

"So am I," she said, and she smiled kindly. "Let me look after you?"

"I'm starting to remember some of it," he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he shut his eyes. "The other girl, your friend. You both said my words."

"Where are mine?"

"On my back."

"Jemma, how's it going?" the other girl – Skye, was it? – ran up to them. She skidded to a halt. "He's not dressed yet?"

"No, not yet, but I will be soon," he said. Her eyes grew wide.

"It's him!" Jemma said. It seemed to be her name.

"You're Skye and Jemma, right?" he said.

"Jemma Simmons."

"And I'm Skye… no last name."

"Huh." He studied Jemma. "I've heard of you."

"I'm a huge fan of yours, Dr. Banner. I've read every one of your articles and dissertations, and I would love to discuss some theories—"

"Okay, cool your jets there," Skye said, putting her hand on Jemma's head. "We don't wanna overwhelm the doc, here."

"Do you know who our fourth is?" he asked.

"We only just found out ourselves," Jemma said, beginning to clean some of his cuts.

Johnny Storm landed nearby, and strode up to them.

"Hey, English Rose," he said. "You told me to find you afterwards?" He looked at Bruce and grinned, tilting his head. "Now Elphaba's de-greenified, it's about time to introduce myself."

"Because I've never heard that one before," Bruce said, holding out his hand. Clearly stunned, Johnny shook it. "Gave me a hell of a shock the first time Tony called me that."

"You… you said you didn't know," Johnny told Skye. She shrugged.

"I didn't, until about two minutes ago," she said.

"This is really quite fascinating," Jemma said. "Dr. Banner—"

"Bruce, please."

She blushed. It was charming. "Bruce, who brings you clothes after a battle?"

"Whoever grabs the bag first. Looks like it's Natasha."

"Is your room at Stark Tower big enough for all of us to get acquainted?" Johnny asked.

"Uh, are we ready for that?" Skye said.

"No," Bruce said firmly.

"I meant to talk, without anyone hearing us."

"JARVIS won't report anything unless I ask him to. I have my own floor, so I guess that's definitely big enough."

"I'd better tell Coulson," Skye said.

"Use your phone," Jemma said. "Doom tampered with the transmissions."

"Typical," Johnny muttered as Skye spoke quickly.

"Show's over," Natasha said, climbing over broken concrete to reach them while Skye ended the call. "The audience can leave now."

"I prefer the peanut gallery," Johnny and Skye said together. Then they looked at each other and grinned.

"Oh Lord, at least we don't have to worry about them being occupied while we get lost in science," Jemma said, brushing dust out of Bruce's hair.

"They're my soulmates, Natasha," Bruce explained. She relaxed.

"Good," she said. "You're not entertainment."

"I wouldn't mind watching him do anything," Jemma said, touching his abdomen. Then she met his eyes and scooted back. "I'm so sorry! I got a bit… distracted."

"You should see him doing yoga," Natasha said, handing Bruce a pair of pants. Tony had finally designed stretchy underwear, but it was great to cover up some more. Jemma's eyes glazed over at the prospect, giving Bruce time to finish covering up. He chuckled, breaking her out of her reverie.

"If we ever get any science done," he said.

"Of course! I appreciated your mind long before I ever saw a picture of you," she said indignantly.

"Not me," Skye said, her eyes raking over his body. "I can't understand all that bio-chem-whatever. I'm a hacker."

"A computer scientist," Jemma said.

"This is all very interesting, but we should be getting to the debriefing," Natasha said. "Is Coulson conducting it?"

"Yeah," Skye said. "May will be here soon to collect us."

"We're definitely getting to know each other as soon as it's over," Johnny said. "I'd better get back to my team, but I'll drop by the tower as soon as we're done with our report for your boss."

"Looking forward to it," Bruce said. When Johnny met his eyes, he winked. The Human Torch's smile widened.

"See ya later, then," he said. "Flame on!"

As he flew off, all three soulmates cocked their heads to watch the slender body perform various aerial tricks.

"Do you think he says 'Flame on' during sex?" Skye said.

"Only one way to find out," Jemma said.

"Ask him?" Bruce suggested, amused.

"Fine then. Only one _fun_ way to find out."

* * *

**Because I've been dithering over the possibility of setting all four of them up together, and got sick of just sitting on the idea. People have agreed with the concept of Jemma and Bruce meeting in the field – hence the title – so I went with it for this story.**

**Please review! Another quickly written chapter, but that's because I got on a roll.**


	38. Bad Habits (Deadpool x Jemma)

**Note: Yay for canon divergence! That is all. Oh, and title was supposed to refer to something, but I've forgotten what. Author's bad habit of coming up with obscure titles? And the location of Wade's soulmark was inspired by one of ozhawk's 'Soulmate Shorts'.**

"Bad Habits"

Phil sighed as he heard cello music. It evoked such wonderful memories for him. He knew there'd never be another like Audrey for him. Her words were still stamped on his skin, branded in black which had never wavered. She'd probably received a new soulmark after he died – her heart and soul were too big not to be shared with someone, and they'd never taken that chance – so there was no point in trying to contact her. He stayed away, to keep her safe and give her a chance at the life she could never have had with him.

Raina had been toying with him, he knew. But it made him acknowledge that Audrey had loved him just as much as he'd loved her, brought it home that he chose SHIELD over her and the family they could've built together. He'd chosen an organisation which now turned out to have been semi-corrupted the whole time.

"Sir?"

He looked up at Simmons. "Come in."

His platonic soulmate stepped into his office, wringing her hands.

"I felt I should tell you," she said.

"That Audrey's your other platonic soulmate?"

She breathed out slowly. "Yes. How did you know?"

"I know your writing, and I've seen her mark."

"Is… that why you sent me?"

"No," he said. "It's because we're low on people. But I think she'll need your help. Just… don't tell her I'm alive yet."

"I asked if she'd found her non-platonic soulmate, and she told me it was you. She said that she loved you so much that the mark was still as black as though you were alive, even though it had turned grey for a few days."

"It's… still there?"

Simmons smiled gently. "A love for the ages, sir? Please tell her yourself. If she found out I was keeping such a big secret from her, she'd never forgive me."

"I can't, Jemma."

"Sir—"

"_If_ she ever finds out – any way – I'll make it clear that I gave you a direct order."

She frowned in disapproval. He could practically feel it coming from her.

"Is that all, Simmons?"

"I have her phone number. When you want it, you only need ask."

He snorted. "I could get it anyway. But… thanks for the offer. It means more."

"You're welcome, sir."

* * *

He'd been director for two days, and already he was encountering staffing problems. It gave him a headache of epic proportions, but he pushed on through, even when they all found themselves in the middle of a fight they could never hope to win. Fitz was still under, they were all still reeling from Ward's betrayal, and Phil was trying to sort through the administrative mess Fury had left behind after destroying his papers, and after Skye had taken their information off the web. The World Security Council – the remaining quarter – had also gone dark for the time being, which meant – hoorah – no funding.

Basically, he was having a terrible day. His migraine was getting worse, there were gunshots every which way, and even he was having trouble keeping track of where his team was, and who was fighting whom.

"May, is there any backup we can call in?" he asked, loading another cartridge. "Damn it, Nick, I swear to Odin…"

"I did a sweep of the area," Skye said, interrupting him. "Checked out any known supers. I only found one guy who's supposed to be around, and sent a message to his phone. I don't know whether he—"

There was a shriek from someone – Phil had no idea who – and then the sound of clanging. Someone jumped over crates and landed beside him. He stared as the guy sheathed two swords over his back, opened up a satchel, and pulled out a grenade. He pulled out the pin and threw it over the barrier. Phil peeked through and was relieved to see that none of his team were hurt. He glared at the stranger, though he had an unfortunate idea who it might be.

"Excuse me," he began.

"Why, what'd you do?" the man asked, now pulling a large gun out of his bag. "Here, do you know how to use one of these? I found it yesterday. It's easy."

"Uh, yeah." Phil studied it, then set it up. The magazine was full, and he rested the butt on his shoulder. "Are you…?"

"Deadpool. Wade Wilson, depending on the writer."

"What?"

"Try not to shoot me. If you do, aim for the head. Quicker to heal."

Phil stared as Wilson jumped back over the crates and began to slash bullets out of the air. He busied himself with firing at the enemy, calling for his team to bring them his way. With Wilson's help, it was soon over, and he reached full awareness when he was shaking the man's hand and thanking him.

"Hey, it's no problem," Wilson said, waving a hand. "You know I love a good fight. Or a bad one. I can make a bad one good, because I'm awesome. Say, have you seen _The Lego Movie_? I haven't, but I watched the Oscars and they sang that song and now I want it as my theme tune, but I only heard it the once and it's hard to find as a ring-tone. It's not like I could get it to play on cue each time I walk into a room. But wouldn't that be cool?"

"Thank you again, Mr. Wilson," Phil said, managing to extract his hand. "You really did save us back there."

Wilson brightened. "I know! I'm trying to get on the side of the good guys, but no one really wants an ex-mercenary on their side. Well, the bad guys do, but then they get tired of me real quick, and… well, everyone does, to be honest, but if you're willing to take me on I can promise a really reasonable fee. I'm thinking shelter, food, someone to stick my head back on if someone else cuts it off. I've got rhythm and I've got music – and an excellent array of hardware, if you know what I mean – but I'm thinking it'll be easier to find my soulmate with you guys anyway—"

"It's good of you to offer," Phil said. "And God knows we need more hands."

"I've got the rest of the package, too."

"And someone with your skills would be great. But… you're not exactly known for working well in a team."

"Really? I thought people liked me."

"I'm sure that's true," Phil hurriedly said. "But none of us are enhanced. Are you sure you wouldn't get bored?"

He saw May signing behind Wilson 'Are you really this desperate?' He nodded subtly, and her expression turned resigned.

"Nah, I can go find trouble anytime," Wilson said. "Just take my number in case you need me while I'm out, and give me a call when things get bad. As long as I have somewhere to return each night, and a reason to stay, you can bet I'm willing to stick around."

"Well." He really hoped he wouldn't regret this. "You got yourself a deal."

As Wade walked off, already chatting to a bewildered Skye – and it was her own fault – May stood beside Phil.

"What about the lie detector?"

"Honestly? I don't think he knows truth from fiction."

"Or maybe he can differentiate too well."

"And you don't think that might come in handy?"

She sighed. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Now that he's met us, he'd probably butt in anyway. At least this way we have some control over his movements. Don't tell me you don't think it's useful to have someone like Deadpool at our side."

"Like him, yes. Actually him?"

"Be careful he doesn't hang out with you. We all know what a big talker you are."

She elbowed him, but he could see the amusement in her eyes, and the way her lips turned up at the corners.

* * *

Jemma looked up as Skye brought the man known as Wade Wilson into the lab. No one had been injured – ostensibly due to Deadpool – and Skye confirmed that.

"He saved our asses back there," she said.

"I haven't even checked out any of your asses," he said. "I'm so proud of myself." Then he looked Jemma over, and she waited for him to continue talking. Skye's text had warned her, and she was waiting for the big monologue. Perhaps if she averted it she could return to her work?

"Thank you so much for saving my friends," she said, offering her hand. He seemed to freeze, and then shake himself out of it. He took her hand, and pressed the mouth of his mask to the back of it. She nearly melted at the gentlemanly gesture she hadn't seen in years, and never experienced personally.

"I'd do anything for you, dear, anything," he declared.

"…I need to sit down."

"Why?" Skye said. Jemma could almost feel herself turning pale – paler than usual, that is – and Deadpool helped her into a seat. Or perhaps she should call him Wade?

"Please do," he said.

"Do what?" she asked.

"Call me Wade. I wanna hear you say it in that cute little English accent of yours."

"Oh, alright. Hello, Wade. Lovely to meet you."

"That's one I haven't heard before," he said, tilting his head. "No one's ever thought it was lovely to meet me."

"Well, you _are_ my soulmate. I wasn't sure when to find you. I wasn't sure I _had_ a soulmate until a few years ago."

"What? You would've been born with your soulmark!"

"He's your soulmate?" Skye said. She grinned. "Excuse me, I have to go tell everyone."

"Skye!"

"They'll find out anyway! Stay. Talk. Get to know each other. Let me be the bearer of… really weird news."

"Great idea!" Wade said, shooing her out. As soon as they were alone he sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her. "So how come you didn't know that you had a soulmark? Really awkward position?"

"…You could say that. That's… a terribly accurate description."

"But no one else ever saw it?"

"I was waiting!" she snapped. She couldn't tell whether he'd raised his eyebrows – he hadn't removed his mask yet – but he tipped his head again. It reminded her of a bird. "It… wasn't until I was asked to develop a means of scanning someone for their non-platonic soulmark in case it was being concealed, and to tell whether or not it was fake. There have been people taken in by gold-diggers – or worse – and I was supposed to solve the problem."

"I'll bet you did, honeybun," he said, stroking her knees. She placed her hands on top of his, stilling them, and entwined their fingers. Her stomach fluttered with nerves. What she was about to reveal was highly embarrassing.

"I scribbled on my arm with ink – just nonsense, really – and then did the full-body scan. It proved that the ink was false… and revealed the location of my soulmark."

Wade shifted in place. "I'm starting to get an idea."

"Where's yours?"

"Can't you guess?"

Jemma blushed furiously. "To bond, we'd have to—"

"Go all the way. Yeah."

She exhaled, rubbing her hands over his. "I would want to, anyway. All my other soulmates are platonic. You were the only one I hadn't met so far, which means that you're my non-platonic soulmate. And the writing is darker."

"Who are your platonic ones?"

She rolled up her sleeve, the blue writing – her favourite colour – showing her other marks.

"This one's Coulson," she said. "This one is Fitz. This is Skye. This one is May. This here is Trip. I… did have Ward, but he turned out to be HYDRA. And this one is the person I met most recently, aside from you. Her name is Audrey, and her non-platonic soulmate is Director Coulson."

"Am I gonna meet all these people?"

"I honestly don't know," she said, frowning slightly. "You've already saved Coulson, Skye, May, and Trip. Fitz is still in recovery. Audrey… she doesn't know that Coulson is alive, which is a horrible secret to keep from her, but he insists. It's so terribly unfair. She still has his mark, and he still has hers." Her frown faded into a smile as she cupped the side of Wade's face. "But I've got you now."

"Of course you've got me," he said. "I'm working with you now. Well, not you specifically, but with the whole team, at least when I'm needed, and I'll be living here most of the time, except when I'm out."

"Do you think we could get rooms next to each other. Or… or share a room? Eventually?"

He hesitated. "Not a good idea. I'm a few crates short of a load, and I can't see us sharing a bed or anything."

"Why not?" she asked, hurt.

"Not that I don't want to, God, look at you, I'd make you scream for days given the chance. Good kind of screaming, not bad kind of screaming. I wouldn't torture you, unless you asked for it, and you look like a nice girl so you probably wouldn't, or at least I hope you wouldn't because I'm not into that in a sexy way. In a getting information way? That's different. But wow, not exactly the best conversation topic to have with your soulmate, huh?"

"You don't want to sleep with me?"

"Didn't you hear what I just said? Of course I do. But we shouldn't. We can't. You're too good for me."

"No, I'm not! You're my soulmate, Wade—"

"And that's another thing, Skye didn't introduce us. You know who I am, but I didn't catch your name, doc."

"Jemma," she said. "Last name Simmons."

"Last name is an odd middle name for someone."

"My name is Jemma Simmons! Simmons is my last name. That's what I meant."

"Oh," he chirped. He looked her up and down. "I would love to take you right now, but then I'd wanna kiss you, and that's not gonna happen."

"I'd like you to."

"If you saw my face, you wouldn't, sweetheart." He squeezed her knees, then stood up. "Let's just say it's platonic, and you can find someone else."

"But your words on me are black! Or they were the last time I checked. It's… difficult to get pictures. I could get Skye to help me, I suppose. Or perhaps May. That might be _marginally _less awkward."

"Sorry, Jemma," Wade said softly, stroking her hair. "But I'm not the one for you. I'll still be around, though!"

"But, Wade—"

"Ask around. I'm not the idea of anyone's soulmate."

"Clearly Fate thinks otherwise, since I was born after you," she said, trying to stop him from leaving. "Take off your mask."

"The phantom of the opera's got nothing on me. Ever seen pictures of the Red Skull?" She nodded. "I'm the flesh-coloured, more scarred version. Not good."

"Wade—"

"I don't want to drive you away, which I will," he said, holding up his hands. "Please, just leave it alone."

Jemma was baffled – and disheartened – when he teleported away. She didn't know that he could do that. It seemed there was a great deal she didn't know about Wade Wilson; and if she was to continue to coax him out, she would have to do her research.

* * *

Audrey was being chased. She was glad not to be hampered by her cello, but she'd had to drop her groceries. Her only hope right now was to get home, lock herself inside, and call the police. Or, if not the police, call Jemma and ask for her help.

There was a scream, and she looked around. A man was on the ground, clutching his leg, and a woman – girlfriend? Wife? Sister? – was kneeling over him.

"Stop running, Ms. Nathan, or they both die," someone said. She slowed to a stop, unable to squash the feeling of utter helplessness, and turned around to confront her pursuer. He was tall and scarred. "That's right. My boss wants to see you. He thinks you're valuable to the head of SHIELD."

"What value could I be to Nick Fury?" she asked.

"Not Nick Fury. Phil Coulson is the new director of SHIELD."

She shook her head. "Phil's dead. He… he's dead."

But she still had her soulmark. It faded for awhile, then came back. What if…? The man smirked.

"He still hasn't told you," he said. "How sweet. He didn't die for long."

"That… that _bastard_!"

"Please, let me call an ambulance!" the woman cried. "My husband…"

"Commander."

There was another man behind Audrey. She whirled around and stared. This one was unkempt, wearing a hoodie, and… was that a metal hand?

"Soldier, stand down," the first one said.

"Not gonna happen, Rumlow. Miss, could you stand aside?"

Audrey backed up against the fence. Then Metal Hand took a run at the first guy – did he say 'Rumlow'? – and they began to fight. The woman across the street was still crying, and there were people gathering at the sides, not sure what to do. Audrey ran across the road.

"Call an ambulance!" she ordered. One of the bystanders pulled out their cell phone and began to dial. Audrey dropped to her knees beside the woman, and saw the man's eyelids fluttering. She glanced to the side and saw, to her horror, that the woman was pregnant.

"Don't leave me," she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please, Mark, don't leave me. Don't leave _us_."

Audrey pulled his shirt apart, ripping from the bullet hole outwards. It'd hit his stomach. A fatal wound.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. The woman beside her, Mark's wife, continued to sob, one hand over her baby bump and the other clutching her husband's left hand. Their wedding rings sparkled together in the light.

Phil was alive, Rumlow said. It wasn't right for Audrey to find out that her soulmate was fine only for this woman to lose hers.

Anger built up inside. Anger, and fear for the woman and her child. The man's eyelids began to close, his breaths sounding more like death rattles. Audrey's hands began to glow where they were spread either side of the wound.

"What… what're you doing?" the woman said, staring at her. Audrey had no idea, shaking her head.

"I don't know," she said. "Oh… oh my God."

The skin began to stitch back together. It was soon closed over. But… but what about the stomach acids? What about the blood probably building up in his throat?

With a huge, gurgling gasp, the man turned to his side and spewed out a mass of blood. Audrey patted his back absently, grunts still audible from where Metal Hand and Rumlow were fighting. She pulled up the back of Mark's jacket and shirt, and saw no sign of any shot wound there. On the ground was the slug. He must have had an exit wound, judging by the puddle of red liquid there, but that had sealed as well.

"Ambulance is on its way," the bystander with a phone said. They were all staring at Audrey, whose hands had lost the glow. She looked up at Mark's wife, who was so pale that Audrey worried she was about to pass out. Mark sat up, and he must have noticed this as well, because he pulled her into his arms.

"I'm fine," he said. There were traces of blood around his mouth, but he was moving without a flinch. "I'm okay."

"Ger her checked out at the hospital at the same time," Audrey said. "Just in case the stress has caused… anything."

"Thank you," the woman whimpered. "I don't know what you did, but… thank you."

Audrey got to her feet to rounds of applause, and smiled uncertainly. She crossed the road again, and watched as the men reached a stalemate.

"I'm gonna call SHIELD," she said loudly. Rumlow glared at her. Metal Hand broke his neck, and let him fall to the ground. "I'm sure as hell not helping him."

"I must go," Metal Hand said.

"Wait! Uh, thanks. For saving me. And, I guess, for saving everyone else here. I don't know what he would've done."

"Bad things."

"What's your name?"

He wouldn't meet her eyes, and shuffled in place. "James."

"Do you want cocoa or something?"

"Just do your shopping during the day."

"I have a feeling my life plans might change very soon," she said. "Why did you save me?"

James shrugged. "I wanted to kill him. He threatened innocent people. He was with HYDRA. Stood by while they wiped my memory."

"Oh." She chewed her bottom lip for a moment. "I'm still going to call them. One of my platonic soulmates said she'd help me if I needed it. I'm sure they'd all help you."

"I'll find them one day, or let them find me. I can't stay in one place for too long. But he's down." He nodded to Rumlow. "That's one down." He began to walk off.

"Thanks again!" Audrey called.

He didn't reply. Just glanced over his shoulder once, and then continued on his way. With a sigh, Audrey entered her apartment, letting the ambulance officers do their work without a fuss, and went to the middle of her apartment. Then she pulled out her phone and dialled a familiar number.

"Jemma? I need your help. Something weird just happened, and I'm pretty sure you're supposed to examine people like me."

Jemma promised to come pick her up. While she was waiting, Audrey took out one of her sharp kitchen knives. She had to know whether what happened was just a one-off, just brought on by stress, or whether she could do it again. She pulled up the left leg of her track-pants and ran the blade of the knife along the skin just above the knee. A red line formed, and blood began to trickle. She put the knife down, placed her hands either side of the cut, and concentrated.

Nothing happened.

"C'mon, use the mind," she told herself. "Like all those self-help books say."

She gathered what she figured must be energy and directed it along her arms, her skin prickling where her mind was activating the nerves, and her hands began to glow again. There was a weird kind of pull, and the light faded. When she ran her thumb along the line of blood, shifting it out of the way, she was amazed to see that there was no cut at all. Nothing. Not a raised edge, no evidence at all that she'd been bleeding. Only the smear of red around the site. She dealt with that quickly enough, then created another wound.

By the time someone was knocking at the door, she'd gotten the hang of healing small wounds. Whether she could save someone from a bullet again was another matter. But she smiled in relief when she saw Jemma standing there.

"Thank God," she said. Jemma stared down at her leg, where Audrey hadn't wiped away all of the blood.

"What on Earth happened?" she exclaimed, and she pushed Audrey into the apartment. A tall, dark man followed them, closing the door on the way.

"I cut myself," Audrey said. "On purpose."

"What? Why would you do a thing like that?"

"Look."

Audrey slashed along her leg again, and Jemma shrieked. Then Audrey formed the glowing light, now easy to draw on her energy to heal the cut. When it was done, she wiped away the blood with the tea towel she'd been using. Jemma calmed down, and studied the area.

"Not a scratch," she said. "How did you do it?"

"I don't know," Audrey said. "But I think you'll need to run some tests."

"You must be Gifted. Have you ever done this before?"

"Not until tonight. A strong surge of emotion brought it on."

"Perhaps you have latent powers," Jemma mused. "Well—"

"Some guy tried to attack me tonight, and he said that Phil's alive. Did you know?"

Jemma cleared her throat. "He gave me orders. I'm sorry. I kept pestering him to tell you, but he's—"

"So stubborn, I know." Audrey rubbed her hands on her face, and then realised she'd probably left tracks of blood on her cheeks. "Damn it. I need to clean up."

"Then I think you should come with us."

"I'm bringing the cello."

"We should have enough room."

"You'd better."

* * *

It wasn't much warning. Phil walked out to meet the car. Trip lifted the cello out of the trunk, and Audrey – beautiful, gentle Audrey – got out of the car, walked right up to him, and stared at him, fuming, for five seconds.

"You _ass_!" she shouted, flinging herself at him. She thumped her fists on his chest and shoulders, calling him names while he smiled and pulled her close.

"I know, I know," he said. "I'm sorry. I was trying to keep you safe."

"Didn't work, Phil! Some man named Rumlow came after me tonight, and if James hadn't fought him off I don't know _what_ might've happened!"

"Who's James?" he asked. She'd stopped hitting him now, which was just as well, considering that he'd taken a cut to the shoulder during training. It was his own fault for not paying attention; his soulmark had itched, and it threw him.

"I don't know," she said, wiping a tear off her face. "Some guy who helped me. It looked like he had a metal hand. He said he was going after HYDRA agents, and he killed Rumlow."

"…Uh-huh?"

"What? What do you mean, 'Uh-huh'? What do you know that I don't, Phil Coulson?"

"I'll tell you later." He cupped her cheeks and brought her face close. "My God, you're a sight for sore eyes."

"I'm a sight for sore anything."

"Good, because I think you've opened the stitches on my shoulder."

"Show me," she said, trying to push off his jacket. Well, if that didn't take him back…

He obliged, shrugging off his upper layers until she could see the reddening bandage. Audrey touched it lightly.

"How did it happen?" she asked softly.

"Distracted while sparring. Your words on me… they sort of flared. I was just glad they didn't disappear."

"I can probably guess when it happened."

"What brings you here? Simmons said you were in trouble."

"This brought me here," she said. Then she ripped off the dressing and rested her hands either side of Phil's injury. He opened his mouth to ask her what the hell she was doing, when her hands seemed to light up. He stared – and so did everyone around them – while the stitches slithered out and the flesh knitted itself back together seamlessly.

"What…?"

"She could have an x-gene which only manifested itself tonight," Simmons said brightly.

"Tonight? What happened?"

"A pregnant woman's husband took a bullet to the gut, and I healed it before he could die," Audrey said. "Don't ask me how. I need Jemma to run some tests on me."

He looked her up and down. As gorgeous as ever. "Not just yet."

"Oh?"

Phil discovered that she tasted the same as ever, too.

* * *

The next time Jemma saw Audrey was when the woman came to the lab to give blood samples.

"Would a recent bonding have any effect on it?" she asked sheepishly.

"Considering the state of your hair and neck, I'm not in the least bit surprised," Jemma said, raising an eyebrow. "If I thought that would be the case, I would have at least tried to stop the two of you first."

"Okay." Audrey winced slightly as she sat down. "It's been a few years. Last time was only a week before New York, and Phil…" She trailed off.

"Did he explain how he was brought back to life?" Jemma asked.

"Yes. It's horrible. I wish I could've been there for him."

"But you don't regret the procedure taking place."

Audrey bowed her head. "That makes me a terrible person, doesn't it?"

"No, of course not! You get a second chance with your true love. I wish I had that chance at all."

"Still haven't found him?" Audrey asked as Jemma wiped her shoulder with antiseptic.

"Oh no, he's here," Jemma said. "Most of the time. His name is Wade Wilson, and he goes by the sobriquet of Deadpool."

"That sounds ominous."

"We've talked to each other, although he does most of the talking. He's nicknamed the Merc with a Mouth for a reason."

"Not the good kind of reason, I'm guessing?" Audrey said as Jemma drew a few samples of her blood.

"He hasn't given me the chance to find out."

"Why not? You're smart, kind, pretty. He should at least be interested in a date."

Jemma snorted delicately. "The closest we get is if it's just the two of us having a meal without any of the others around."

"Do you have anything in common?"

She shrugged. "Not really. If we do, it has yet to show itself. But I don't mind. I like him being the opposite of me. I've always been around people I share interests with, and not had many opportunities to explore others. Is it too much to ask for one kiss?"

"It shouldn't be," Audrey said. She drank the juice Jemma handed to her. "Do you think he's attracted to you?"

Jemma perched on the bed beside Audrey. "He says that he is, but that he doesn't want to drive me off with the scars on his face. Doesn't he realise that I don't care about how he looks? My heart doesn't have eyes, nor does my soul."

"Didn't it occur to you that the thought might make him uncomfortable?" Audrey pointed out. "When I first met Phil, it took awhile to get him to see that I wanted him. He was sure I'd be better off without him, kept trying to dissuade me."

"How did you convince him to give it a try?"

"Me? I jumped him. But he doesn't wear a mask."

"Damn," Jemma sighed. "Wade's mask completely covers his head, and he wears gloves. I haven't seen an inch of skin, at all. He heals quickly, so there's never a reason for me to examine him for injuries."

"Sudden-kissing him doesn't sound like it'd work, then."

"No." Her shoulders slumped. "I should introduce you to everyone else, you know. Maybe you have some soulmates among the rest of the team?"

"Phil was planning to do that." They looked over at the door, where he was hovering, his own hair untidy and neck pink in several places. "He wanted me to heal the love-bites, but I refused."

"Well, I'll let you know when I have the results," Jemma said. "Can you stand?"

"Absolutely." Audrey got to her feet carefully. "Thanks for the talk. And the snacks."

"Thank you for listening," she said, watching anxiously as Audrey made it to Phil's side. He slid an arm around her waist, and Jemma couldn't help the stab of jealousy that Wade never touched her like that.

* * *

Sure enough, Audrey had the x-gene.

No one had discovered it before because no one had been _looking_ for it. Jemma had studied the biology of mutants – or Gifted people, to use the politically correct term – and cross-checked with her notes from the academy. As she suspected, the x-gene was present in Audrey's blood stream. As far as they knew, her gift extended to healing surface injuries within a matter of seconds. Jemma sneaked her into her a morgue and inflicted wounds on the bodies. Audrey could heal them, but she couldn't raise a newly-killed rat from the dead.

"I don't want you to push yourself to try," Jemma said. "You can bring people back from the brink of death by healing their injuries. That's more than enough. That first man should have died, and he didn't, thanks to you. If he had, his wife could have lost their child, and she didn't."

Audrey had taken a sabbatical from the orchestra, although she continued to practise on base. They all enjoyed listening to her at the end of the hard day. Nothing like a bit of Saint-Saëns or Elgar to heal the soul. Her days became a blur of physical training so she wouldn't get caught off-guard again, strengthening her healing powers, and playing the cello to keep her skills fresh. And at night, she and Phil renewed their bond.

Fitz and Mack reinforced the sound-proofing on the doors. And Jemma continued to wish that she had a reason to activate the sound-proofing on her own door.

"Hey, doc, how's it going?"

"Hello, Wade," she said, keeping her eyes on the computer screen. "I'm fine. Just working."

"Sounds boring. Wanna see a movie?"

She paused, and then turned her head, trying not to get her hopes up. "A movie?"

"Yeah. I'm getting everyone together so we can go see whatever's on. I was thinking an action film with science, so there's something for all of us to mock! Or something we'd all find boring. Or a comedy. There isn't much we're all gonna be able to agree on, so it's about finding something we'll all hate equally…"

As he continued to chatter, Jemma lowered her eyes and returned to comparing Coulson's before and after blood samples, to see whether bonding with a Gifted person had changed his blood. Nothing so far.

"This is quite time-sensitive," she said, interrupting the flow.

"We can wait. We don't even have to go right now—"

"No, no, it's fine," she said. "Don't let me spoil the evening. I'm sure I'll be safe on base. Is anyone else staying behind?"

"Bobbi and Hunter have their own plans, so they'll probably be back before us, but that'd just be to have sex. I've sounded out pretty much everyone else, but I could ask—"

"Please go," Jemma said. "I need to concentrate on this."

"…Okay. I'll give you a review later."

"I look forward to it," she said, closing her eyes as he left the lab. Fortunately like a normal person, i.e. through the door. She steadied herself against the bench, frustrated and pissed beyond belief that she'd even contemplated the idea that Wade was finally showing interest in her. He was full of wild anecdotes, had super healing, was effectively immortal, a skilled fight… she must have seemed quite dull by comparison. And he had no reason to like or trust a scientist, even his soulmate, considering his history.

With a heavy heart, she returned to studying the samples and cursing Wade Wilson in the privacy of her own head.

* * *

Audrey was resting on Phil's chest, tracing circles around the scar, when her finger began to glow. Her eyebrows drew together.

"What's the oldest injury I've healed so far?" she asked.

"I don't know," Phil said drowsily. "Maybe an hour or two old? Why?"

She leant up beside him and placed her hand over the scar. He peered at her.

"Audrey?"

"Shh." Her whole hand shone, and Phil gasped. He grabbed onto her arms, neither pulling them close nor pushing them away. When the light faded, Audrey raised her hand. The flesh was perfect. "Roll onto your side." Phil obeyed, and there was no trace of a scar there, either. "Oh my God."

"Audrey, do you realise what this means?" he said.

"Hey!" Someone hammered at the door. It was Skye. "Got an alert. Mostly muscle needed, but that includes you, DC. May said we don't need Audrey for this."

"Except as a healer," Audrey muttered.

"Don't jinx us," Phil said, standing on unsteady legs. There was a certain brief euphoria that came with Audrey's healing. He opened the ice box and pulled out a sports drink, always good to have on hand if she'd been using her powers. She was getting better at drawing on her ever-regenerating energy, but a little boost never hurt.

"C'mon, you guys, May's starting up the van. FitzSimmons are staying behind, but the rest of us are heading out."

"Coming!" Phil called, struggling into clothes. He was still trying to take in the fact that Audrey could cure old wounds. At least ones on the outside. They hadn't tried out internal injuries yet, and weren't eager to inflict any for the purposes of testing. Even though, as Simmons pointed out, it would probably work. That was the thing; he didn't like that 'probably'.

"I love you," Audrey said, and she kissed him before he walked off to join the others.

"I love you, too," Phil said. He waved, and Audrey retreated to the lab to see if Fitz and Jemma needed any help.

They were arguing. She hated to see that, and frowned as Fitz tried to find the words he wanted. His hands shook, and Jemma attempted to hold them still. He yanked them away from her and stalked to the other side of the lab.

"Mind on the mission," Audrey reminded them. Fitz ignored her as his face crumpled, and Jemma turned back to Skye's laptop. Skye was also yelling at them to be helpful by doing what she told them to. Jemma and Audrey had to do most of the manual work, because Fitz was so frustrated that he was undermining himself.

"I can't do this," he kept muttering. Even after the others declared the mission finished without injury – except Wade, who healed quickly enough – he continued to talk to himself. Jemma looked about ready to explode, and Audrey strode to his side.

"Here, let me try something," she said, placing her hands either side of his head. "Just close your eyes."

He stared at her for a moment, and then let his eyes flutter shut. Audrey was careful, sending her power to seek before automatically healing. Something seemed to happen, and she kept an eye on Fitz's reactions. When the glow faded again – as it always did when her work was done – she lifted her hands away and stepped back.

"How do you feel, Leo?" she asked. His eyes snapped open, and he glanced from her to Jemma and back again.

"Give me something to do," he said. "Something fiddly."

"Can you remember any poems or Shakespearean speeches?" Audrey asked as Jemma searched for something suitably difficult. "Do you know _Much Ado About Nothing_?"

"Uh, no, I don't," he said.

"Never mind," Jemma said. "You'll be tested soon enough. You can give the debrief about our side of the mission."

He looked nervous, but nodded.

* * *

Wade was sharpening a katana when Jemma entered his room.

"How are you?" she asked.

"I'm good," he said, holding the blade up to the light to inspect it. "Yep, this one's good as well. Nice and sharp. You know what makes these special? Sometimes blood drips off them, and sometimes I can stab someone – or behead them or slice them or generally maim them in some way – and no blood is left on the blade at all. Weird, isn't it? Of course, it could just be lazy film or picture editing, but it's much more effective when there's actually some evidence of injury, you know? Except when you've got some random healing power because the author figured that a character needed it to justify pairing them with someone who works with enhanced people—"

"Wade, do you like me?" Jemma said, cutting off his confusing ramble. He cocked his head in one of the few ways he could show expression.

"Of course I do. You're very likeable. You're a gem, Jem. Heh. Also, you're my soulmate, so it'd be weird if I didn't like you, but then I've got a few screws loose anyway, thanks _so_ much, people at Marvel, really feeling the love there—"

"You won't let me see you at all? Not one part?"

His voice turned serious. "Not even my soulmark, babe. No one's ever prepared for it."

"Why not? I _am_ a bio-scientist, and I've seen some truly horrible things. You can't be that bad."

"I'm not gonna challenge you on that point, sweet-thing."

"Show me. Please." She stepped closer, and he moved his katana away.

"…Promise to let it go if I show you one of my hands?"

"Wade—"

"Promise."

She sighed. "It won't change my mind. You're my soulmate, and I like you. Very much. The more I get to know you, the more I want to _help_ you."

"Ah, so this is pity?"

"No! This is me trying to connect with my non-platonic soulmate who's being incredibly stubborn."

He sighed, and pulled off one of his gloves. Jemma sucked in a shocked breath, and touched the wrinkled, pock-marked, reddened skin.

"Is it all like this?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Who did this to you?"

"People who are dead now."

"Pity," she muttered. "I would've liked to eviscerate them myself."

"Good luck with that. It was before your time."

"Oh, Wade."

"Now you've seen it," he said, snapping the glove back on.

"Does it hurt?"

"Nah. It's basically my skin now. I did get better for awhile, but then I got burned. Then the cure turned out to be temporary, so everything was that much worse. People have thrown up when they see the real me. I can't handle that from you. Not when you're supposed to be my soulmate."

"_Am_ your soulmate," she said, kneeling in front of him. "Wade, please let me see your face." She reached up to lift his mask away. He slapped her hands back and sheathed the katana he'd been working on.

"You promised to leave it alone," he said.

"Wade, please let me see you!"

"What, so you can see me as a test subject?"

"_No_! Because I want to love you, but you make it so hard when you won't let me close, won't even show me your eyes. You won't take me out on dates, you don't hold my hand. You tell me stories about you and the people you've worked with, but not about the things you like. I don't even know your favourite colour!"

"Well, it used to be red, but now it's the colour of your eyes," he said. She nearly screamed.

"Then you go and say something like _that_, which makes me think that you like me, but you don't deliver on it," she said.

"You really want to see it, Christine? You want to see Erik's face?"

"The reference to _Phantom of the Opera_ was unnecessary, but yes. I do." She lifted her chin, staring him down defiantly.

"Fine!" Then he pulled off the hood that served as a full head mask.

Jemma gasped, covering her mouth as she stared at her soulmate's face. It seemed even worse than the hand she'd seen. What kind of horrors had been inflicted to create such damage? Even without the apparent burns, he was still horribly scarred, some patches looking like a toe after it's been in the water too long, and it brought tears to her eyes. He was scrunching the mask in his hands, looking at her unflinchingly.

"There's the truth," he said.

She fled into his arms, burying her face in his chest and just holding on. His hands touched her waist and she turned her head to the side.

"I wish they were still alive so I could kill them myself," she whispered. He chuckled.

"They got what was coming to them," he said. "At least you haven't run screaming."

"I told you I wouldn't," she said, raising her head to look him in the eyes. They were a nice, light brown, set amongst such terrible injury. She stroked his cheek. "Does that hurt?"

"No."

"Then this shouldn't." She pulled him down by the neck and kissed him. He sort of had lips, but it hardly mattered, because he swiftly broke it.

"Don't," he said.

"Am I that repulsive?"

"Are _you_ that…? Jemma, it's not you at all."

"Wade, please let me—"

"I can't. I want to, badly. Well, not badly, I want to _well_. But I definitely can't subject you to this. Your first time shouldn't be with a guy who looks like a failed experiment. Well, technically I _am_ a failed experiment, and I have the appearance to go with it."

"We can't bond unless we have sex, Wade."

"You shouldn't even _want _to bond with me, Jem! You should be running as far away as you can from this."

"I see a brave man who's trying to make up for sins of the past," she said. "And looks aren't everything. If you'd seen pictures of me when I was at school…"

"Did you look anything like this?" He indicated his face. Slowly, she shook her head.

"No," she said. "I'll admit that I didn't."

"And that's the big difference, honey." He let her go and pulled the mask back on. She dropped her hands to her sides.

"I'm so sorry, Wade," she said. "I wish you could accept it so that you could accept me."

He stroked her hair. "I'm sorry, too, Jemma," he said.

She nodded, and left the room silently.

* * *

After half a day of seeing Jemma moping around, Wade gave in. He'd thought about it, thought about Audrey healing Coulson's scar and Fitz's brain damage. Armed with energy drinks and bars, he teleported into Coulson's quarters.

"Okay, I'll come back in five minutes, so you should probably be dressed by then."

"Get out, Deadpool!"

"Roger that, Coulson," he said, saluting, and teleported back out of the bedroom. Probably not a good idea to have zipped right in there, in hindsight.

He waited twenty minutes, and then Coulson emerged from the bedroom into his office. Wade perked up.

"Wow, I was expecting you sooner," he said.

"I had to make it up to Audrey for you _interrupting_ us."

"Actually, it was Audrey I wanted to see. Well, not like that. Not that she isn't attractive and all, but she's your gal, and I want mine, and I need her help for that."

"What do you need help with?" Audrey asked, rubbing her tangled hair as she walked in.

In answer, Wade pulled off his mask, and they flinched.

"This," he said. "It's… all over my body. I brought sustenance! You know, if you wanted to see if you can… cure this?"

"Do you think it's possible?" Coulson asked, leaning against his desk and crossing his arms. "Would it be too much for you, Audrey?"

"I don't know," she said. "I can start with a hand—"

"This one," Wade said, holding up the one Jemma had touched. "These are extremely old injuries, injuries upon injuries. I don't want you to get hurt. It's just… Jemma kissed me. But I can't touch her like this, not like I want to. Not like I _have_ to for us to bond. And I want to bond with her, sweet hell, of course I want to bond with her, she's my soulmate and I think I'm kinda in love with her, but who can blame me?"

"Alright, stop there," Audrey said. She took hold of Wade's hand and looked it over. Well, neither of them had vomited when they saw his face, so that was a start. "This might take awhile."

"And the healing might wear off, since my own super healing never fixed it. I know. But I can't say that I've tried everything until I've, y'know, tried everything. And you may be the last resort."

"No pressure, in other words," she said. "I'll start with a finger, and work from there."

"I could say something really inappropriate, but I won't."

"Good," Coulson said.

"Okay," Audrey said. "Hold your hand there."

Wade sat as still as he could, biting his tongue to fight the impulse to talk. Audrey's hands glowed, the light streaming down her arms and meeting his skin. It slowly turned pink and healthy. Wade stared, unable to believe that this could actually work.

Then there was a drop of blood and he looked up.

"Stop!" he shouted, yanking his hand away and grabbing her around the waist.

"I'm fine," she said weakly.

"No, you're not," he said, pushing her into Coulson's arms. He grabbed one of the energy drinks, opened it, and gave it to Coulson. He poured it down her throat, making her drink, while Wade grabbed tissues and cleaned the blood from her nose and his hand.

"Lemme try again," she slurred.

"Not until you're stronger," Coulson said.

"Not at all!" Wade said. "I'm sorry. It was selfish of me. I'll go now. We're _never_ trying this again."

"Did it… fade?"

He looked down at his hand. She hadn't gone far, but it looked good as new. His ring finger.

"Nah, it didn't fade," he said, showing her. "See?"

"Then I'll keep working at it," she said, nodding. "Bit by bit. It just takes practise, like learning a concerto."

"Ha, I saw what you did there. Using a musical comparison, right? Well, it'd mean more if I knew more about music. But because the _author_ has such a ginormous musical background that just _had_ to be included."

Shut up, Wade.

"You shut up."

Everyone _else _uses sports references I don't understand.

"Use Wikipedia, then! Everyone else does!"

"What's going on?" Audrey asked.

"I have no idea," Coulson said, helping her to his desk chair. "Just go with it."

"It's not happening again," Wade said, pointing at Audrey. "Even though this chapter is going on way too long and is too ridiculously angsty."

"Is 'angsty' even a word?"

"No, which is why there's a red squiggly line under it in Microsoft Word, along with 'ginormous' and my name. Or there was until it was added to the dictionary, so yay! I'm in the dictionary on the author's computer."

"Good for you," Coulson said. "Wade, we'll continue to look for ways to help you."

"I can do it!" Audrey insisted.

"In bits. But the scars must run deep for it to take that much out of you with just that patch of skin."

"And I might be able to fix his memory."

"No!" Wade said. "My craziness is an integral part of my character. Take that away and what am I? And no fixing the cancer inside, either. It's keeping me alive. But if the surface could be cleared up… that'd be good. Just not if you're gonna spring a nosebleed every time. If Coulson wasn't so hung up on keeping his whole being-alive thing from the Avengers, you totally could've consulted Bruce Banner about this, since he's the go-to person when it comes to learning about control. But don't forget about the orchestra! An orchestra is nothing without its cellists. Just ask the author."

"Jemma helped me," Audrey said. "She saved my life and brought me back to Phil. She's one of my platonic soulmates. If I can do this, just a piece at a time, then I will. If you want, think of it as a way to strengthen my skills. I don't wanna start raising people from the dead, but I also can't rely on anger to heal someone who's been shot in the stomach. That first time was a fluke which kick-started my powers. That's it."

"Be a test subject for you?" Wade cocked his head. "Sounds like a sweeter deal than others I've had in the past."

"It's for the greater good," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, okay then," he said. "If we're gonna throw in Harry Potter references, I'm there."

"Where's your soulmark?"

"On my penis."

Audrey's jaw dropped and Coulson covered his face.

"Why am I not surprised?" he muttered.

"Okay," Audrey said. "Well, I shouldn't have to… uh… if we leave that until I can do a larger patch of skin. Hopefully. And Phil will be with me, of course. He could even direct my hands and I can shut my eyes. Yes. We'll… figure something out."

"Save the best `til last," Wade said.

* * *

The first time Wade asked Jemma to have a private dinner with him, it ended up being in the hangar. He – or someone else – had set up a table with a candle, and Skye served the food while Audrey poured the wine. Jemma couldn't stop smiling. It had been two weeks since their only kiss, and she'd feared that he was avoiding her because… well, she still wasn't sure why, but most likely because of his insecurities. She understood – everyone had their issues – yet it was impossible for her to help him work through everything unless he opened up to her.

He didn't. Not on their first 'date'. And there weren't any kisses. She didn't see any more of his body at all, which was disappointing. However, she could acknowledge that he'd been terribly brave to give in to her prodding and expose a part of him he never wanted her to see, fearing her disgust. The only disgust she felt was towards the scientists who'd inflicted such cruelty on her soulmate.

It was a month before Wade let her hold his hand as they strolled around outside the base, just talking. Well, he talked as usual, and Jemma prompted the changes of topic.

"I've never been to Puerto Rico, but I saw _West Side Story_ once. I liked the fighting. Sure, it was choreographed, but it's a musical, so of course stuff is choreographed. Do you like movies? What's your favourite kind of movie? You didn't go with us when we did our group outing, so I have no idea—"

"I thought you were asking me on a date," Jemma said quietly. "Then it turned out that you had asked everyone else first. It wasn't going to be just the two of us."

"Oh."

"Nothing else to say?"

"I figured it was gonna be a chance to hang out with you, without it looking like a date."

"So… it _was_ supposed to be a date?"

"A non-date."

"Oh, well that clears everything up—"

"Time to go!" May called across to them. Jemma sighed. Wade slipped an arm around her waist as they strolled back.

"Won't you say something?" she said. "Please."

"What do you want me to say?"

"That everything's going to be alright."

"I don't wanna lie to you, honey."

"It's time to get going," Coulson said as they climbed the ramp.

"What if something terrible happens?" Jemma whispered.

"You always say that," Wade said. "Then something bad happens and we fix it."

"Wade—"

He pulled off his mask, only the second time she'd seen it. He looked the same as he had last time; the difference was that this time he kissed her without prompting. She jumped at the opportunity, throwing her arms around his neck and letting him take his time. Or as much time as Coulson would allow before he cleared his throat. Jemma couldn't help shooting him a dirty look for the interruption, especially when Wade swiftly slipped his hood back on. Jemma hugged him, and then joined the science team.

"Be careful, sweetness," Wade said loudly. She blew him a kiss, and he saluted her.

* * *

Everything was going to hell. Phil had disappeared down into the tunnels to find Skye.

Damned if Audrey wasn't going to go after her soulmate.

"Phil!" she shouted, running through the underground maze and hoping she didn't run into Mack. On the other hand, maybe she could fix him? But where was Phil? And where was Trip? "Guys, where are you?"

"Audrey?"

"Finally," she murmured, racing around the corner. Phil and Trip were at one end, trying to get past Mack, who was clearly still possessed. He turned and looked at her, and even from here she could see how dark his eyes were.

"Audrey, run!" Phil said. He and Trip tried to distract Mack. Audrey caught a glimpse of the girl in the flower dress and heard Skye's voice. "What're you—?"

She ran after them, pulling out her ICER, and found Raina putting the obelisk on a table.

"Audrey, what're you doing in here?" Skye said.

"We're trying to get you out!"

The wall slid shut behind them, and something weird began to happen. Audrey tried to find some means of opening the door, or whatever it was, but couldn't find a single gap.

"Oh, come _on_," she muttered while Raina was talking.

"Sorry," Skye said. "I don't buy into the whole 'this is your destiny' thing. We're taking the obelisk and we're leaving. There's too many lives at stake."

"You got it all wrong," Raina said coolly. "Whitehall, everyone has got it wrong. This doesn't destroy. It gives life, new life. We finally get to find out what we become."

Audrey glanced back and saw the obelisk rising above the table-altar thing. Recalling what it could do, she searched the nooks and crannies frantically for some kind of button or lever or _anything_.

"Make it stop," Skye said.

"I can't," Raina replied. "Neither of us can now."

Next thing Audrey knew, the obelisk was showering crystals on Raina and Skye, turning them to stone.

"No, no, _no_!" she shouted. She aimed the ICER and fired round after round, destroying it completely, she hoped. Instead, it exploded as they become rock, and Audrey clutched her stomach when she felt something hit it.

_God no. Phil_…

Something happened. Audrey could swear she'd stopped breathing. But she was on the floor, gasping for breath, her body glowing. The world around her was quaking. The wall scraped open and something – Raina? – flew past. Skye was still shaking off whatever rocks had formed on her.

"Audrey!" Phil sounded panicked, and he picked her off the floor. "Oh God, oh no, what happened to you?"

"I don't know," she said. "We have to get out of here. Skye, come on!"

"I'll help her," Trip said, moving past them. Audrey tensed, but Mack was holding the explosives and his eyes were normal.

"I'm me again," he said.

"Oh good," she said. "Phil, put me down. I can walk."

* * *

"Quarantine sucks," Skye declared.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Audrey said. "What happened to me… it was different from what happened to you."

"We shouldn't be alive." Skye paced the room, despite the monitor attached to her arm. Audrey had her own monitor, and they were waiting on their blood results.

"But we are, so we should be happy about that."

"I'm not! What if something is wrong?"

"Skye, calm down."

"I can't calm down. Raina said 'what we become'. What've we become?"

"I don't know," Audrey said. "I already had the x-gene. I don't know whether that's changed or gone or been amplified." She frowned, and picked up a scalpel. Skye stared.

"Don't do what I think you're about to do," she said.

"I have to." Then she slit across her arm. Skye leapt forward.

"Don't do that!"

Audrey's hand began to glow. Before she could even touch the cut on her skin, the light covered it, and then disappeared. No cut. Not even any blood.

"Hey, now I don't have to clean up after myself," Audrey said. "Or anyone else."

"That's impossible." Audrey gave Skye a withering look, and she corrected herself. "So what, now you don't have to touch to heal? And the blood goes bye-bye afterwards?"

"I didn't even have to consciously summon up my energy to do it. It was like my power knew what to do before I did, and just… healed me."

"Try me," Skye said. She grabbed another scalpel and slashed a long scratch down her arm. Audrey groaned.

"What if this skews the monitoring?" she asked.

"Just tell them what we were doing, and they can see what it does to your body," Skye said. "Don't leave me bleeding."

Audrey reached out her hand. Again, her power washed over the injury, curing and cleaning it.

"Explains why you were lit up like a light-bulb," Skye said. "But I don't have any powers to amplify. What… what does it mean?"

Before they could begin to speculate, Jemma bounced up to the window.

"Skye, Fitz is working on your results now that I've finished examining Audrey's blood," she said. "Audrey, the x-gene has strengthened. It hasn't doubled in number of cells, but it _has_ tripled in intensity, from what I can tell. That's the only change I've been able to detect."

"Yeah, we figured out that much," Skye said. Audrey demonstrated by cutting her arm again and healing it without having to touch the surface. Jemma's jaw dropped.

"W-well, then that just confirms my hypothesis," she said. "Uh, you're free to go. Sorry, Skye, but you still have to stay—"

"I know, I know," Skye said, holding up her hands. Disappointment welled up inside.

"Everything will be fine," Audrey said. "Don't worry, Skye."

"Uh-huh. Now go find DC and tell him you're not dying or anything."

Audrey smiled and left, leaving Skye alone and worried. What _had_ she become? And where was Raina?

* * *

"Hey, cute stuff!"

Jemma wasn't expecting the cuddle from behind, but she welcomed it, and turned around in her soulmate's arms. He was still wearing his mask, so there was no surprise kiss, but she supposed it would have to be baby steps.

"Hello, Wade," she said.

"How's it going with our favourite captives?"

"If you're _referring_ to Skye and Audrey, Skye's still in quarantine. Audrey's out now; whatever the obelisk did, it amplified her healing power. That seems to be it. She's displaying no other signs of… where are you going?"

"I'll see you later, Jemma! Say, your room, about an hour?"

"Um… I'm supposed to be drowning the… temple." He was gone. She sighed. "Well, I suppose there isn't much to do. He can come and find me." She looked around. "And why am I talking to myself?"

When Raina – whatever she was – killed one and injured two of the men Jemma was in charge of, she finished the operation down there as quickly as possible. With Wade there to protect her, because as soon as he knew about the danger he teleported straight to her side. She was grateful, both for the company and the protection; and it was nice to lean into his side as they flooded the temple to kingdom come.

"I thought we were supposed to meet in your room in an hour," Wade said. Jemma checked her watch.

"It's actually been about fifty-seven minutes," she said. "So if you can—"

Then they were in her room, and she blinked to get her bearings.

"Get us here quickly, we'll be on time," she finished.

"We're early," Wade said.

"So I see."

"Which is great, because Fitz is still running the blood work, Coulson and Audrey are reaffirming their lives or something – again – and I have plans for you. I thought I'd have to wait longer, but then Audrey's powers got boosted, and we're done for the day, so now I can take you to bed and we can bond—"

"Really?" Jemma said, her eyes widening? "You want to? _Finally_?"

"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry, but I wanted to wait until…"

"Until?"

"You can't be mad at me because it was actually good practise for her, and I did this for you as well as for me, and we were able to finish it off tonight, with Coulson supervising of course, because that's something we all agreed on at the beginning—"

"Mad at you for what?" Jemma asked, crossing her arms. "I'm only mad that you've made me wait this long."

"Well," he said, yanking his mask off. "I knew you were something special, Jemma."

She gasped. If it wasn't for the voice and the eyes, she might have taken a few seconds to recognise him. Wade's skin was smooth, pink, and clear. He was grinning widely as he undressed, and Jemma remembered that it would be a good idea to close, lock, and soundproof the door. She couldn't stop staring at him as more unblemished skin appeared.

"You like?" he asked, kicking off his boots.

"Oh, Wade," she whispered, and she touched his flawless shoulder. "You did this? For me?"

"Well, Audrey did this for both of us, but I asked her to. It took a hell of a long time just to do my hands, because of the extent of the injuries. When you told me that she was more powerful now, I asked her to try again. This time, it only took about five minutes to repair all the scars and the burns."

"Did it hurt?" Jemma ran her hands over his chest and arms. "I know it's a peculiar sensation, and it must have—"

"Didn't hurt at all," he said, capturing one of her hands. He kissed it. "I had the thought of you to keep me going."

"You _didn't_ have to do this," she said, trying to sound cross. He was dazzling now, of course, and it was wonderful that his confidence was boosted. But he shouldn't have felt it was necessary, just to make her happy.

"It was a long time coming," he said. "I wanted to do this, for us."

She kissed him. He returned it with more gusto, backing her up against the wall. She cupped his face, stroked his cheeks with her thumbs.

"So you'll bond with me now?" she asked.

"As much as you want, sweetheart."

* * *

**Aw, yay! Finally finished this chapter.**

**I'd been mulling over the idea of Audrey being a latent mutant with healing powers, and throwing that into Deadpool/Jemma with scarred!Wade. Combine that with 'What They Become' (I took some of the dialogue from the episode's IMDb page) and I decided to do my own thing. Because that always works. *Rolls eyes***

**Please review! Monster chapter is over. Re. companion piece: stick to chapters in order, or just post smutty bonding scenes as I write them?**


	39. Lend an Arm (Bucky x Tony)

"Lend an Arm"

Soulmates were an imprecise science. The one time Tony tried to study it, his headache grew rapidly and he gave up. If he couldn't take it apart with his hands and put it back together in a different, better way, he wasn't interested. All that bull about marks appearing soon before you meet your soulmate, having multiple ones of varying shades depending on how important that person would be to you.

The problem? No one would know it to look at him, but Tony was clingy.

He didn't have a single soulmark until the day before he met Rhodey. They were both definitely into women, although Tony's soulmark remained as dark as his coffee, just as Rhodey's remained as light as the foam. Then came Pepper. After he returned from Afghanistan his soulmark for her was much darker, as hers was for him. They tried dating; they really did. Then he found another soulmark. The words 'Natalie Rushman' said to him. Pepper took it as a threat, even though the soulmark was light compared to his others.

(He was so busy being Iron Man and not sleeping with Pepper that he'd missed the words which had formed on his back. Just 'Mister Stark', nothing he hadn't heard before; but it was in Phil Coulson's handwriting, and disappeared without Tony ever noticing that it'd been there.)

One day, four more marks showed up on his body. Tony took a cold shower to fight past the pain of so many words appearing at once. He clenched his fists, resting them against the wall as he let the cold pour over him.

And this. This is where things got complicated. Because he was soon meeting and fighting with all these people; a Norse 'god', Captain Goody-Two-Shoes America, and Bruce Banner who, yeah, he was pretty excited to meet. Then a battle happened for real, and afterwards he had the pleasure of meeting the new Robin Hood. Turns out? They were all soulmates. Platonic ones – he wasn't so sure about Romanov and Barton – and he was cool with that.

Until they moved into the tower.

After he and Pepper failed to work, her soulmark dimmed on his body and Bruce's began to darken. Tony wooed him with dried fruit, high-tech machinery, and stories about himself, as well as a few donations to Bruce's favourite charities. It seemed pointless, since most of the money went to administrators instead of where it was needed, but the guy seemed to appreciate the gesture.

But… he was still stuck on one of his soulmates, Betty Ross. Tony already had plans to ruin her old man, so he included a plan to kidnap and bring her to the tower. Only at the most opportune moment, of course. So Bruce's mark grew lighter.

Clint needed shelter, so Natasha brought him there. When it became clear that they were somewhere between platonic and non-platonic, he began to think that he had a chance. Sure, there were the jibes about Natasha always trying to set Steve up with various women – and really, no one had told the guy about bisexuality? – but before this whole Avengers mess Fate had known they were soulmates on some level. When Natasha showed no interest, Tony stepped up his game with Clint, providing a top of the range… range, and trapped him in the workshop with new arrow designs. It helped that Clint refused to leave Tony alone with his bow. He should've taken that as a sign that it wasn't going to go anywhere.

Steve moved in next, and his friend Sam – another platonic soulmate, apparently, but not Tony's – visited a lot. Tony gave them every help that he could in searching for Bucky Barnes, aka the Winter Soldier, and sneaked trackers onto Steve whenever the two went out following leads. And when they became non-platonic, Tony was torn between disappointment and wanting to laugh when he pointed out that Natasha should have widened the field when trying to find him a date.

When Thor joined them, Tony tried not to like the guy so much. But, as with his other soulmates, he couldn't help but fall a little in love. The guy already had a girlfriend, Jane Foster, who he'd brought with him. Tony got on well enough with Darcy, but they didn't have each other's words. More than that, she seemed to have a long-distance relationship with her intern.

Then one night, he had that burning feeling on his back again, and ran into the bathroom. He couldn't have been getting another soulmate, surely? At his age? But if he was… could this person be the non-platonic soulmate he'd been waiting for?

"JARVIS, show me," he said, craning his neck to look in the mirror.

"It says 'Mister Stark', sir."

"Run handwriting matches."

"It resembles the one which was on your back some years ago."

"Wait, what?"

"You had a soulmark there, sir. It appeared after your return from Afghanistan."

"And you didn't tell me?" Tony said incredulously.

"You never mentioned it, sir."

"I don't exactly stare at my back all the time."

"Surely you felt it?" JARVIS sounded confused. Okay, Tony was an awesome programmer, but he wished he hadn't built in so many voices to choose from. Still, better than a monotone. Less creepy.

"I was in pain from being tortured for a month! I wasn't exactly gonna notice it, was I?" He twisted again, tracing the letters. "Any idea whose it was?"

"It disappeared after the battle of New York, sir. During that time, the only person who died that you knew personally was… Agent Coulson."

Tony felt sick. He clutched onto the bathroom sink.

"No," he said.

"Sir, it looks exactly the same. This indicates that Agent Coulson died, but was brought back to life, and that you are to meet him again soon."

Tony shook his head.

"I really hope you're right, J," he said. "If that's true, we're all gonna have _words_ with him."

He found out at breakfast that Natasha, Clint, and Sam had received marks in similar writing overnight. The two former SHIELD agents were equally pissed off, and confirmed that it was Phil's handwriting. Different marks to their original ones for him – for both, it was just their surname – but they'd seen their names in that writing often enough. Sam's was more interesting.

"Why don't we all have marks for him?" Steve asked, frowning. "Why does Sam have one, and not Thor, or me? We both met Coulson."

"If he died and came back to life, and has been away somewhere all this time, maybe he'll need my help?" Sam suggested.

"It still seems weird to me. We're non-platonic soulmates."

Then Sam came down with a cold the day before he and Steve were supposed to follow up another lead on the Winter Soldier. Thor, Jane, and Darcy were headed out that way, tracking down more strange star signs, and Bruce went with Steve in case the Hulk was needed. Or, for that matter, in case a doctor was needed.

So it was Tony, Clint, Natasha, and Sam who greeted Phil when he arrived with his team.

"Mr. Stark," he said. "Barton. Romanov." Sam sneezed. "Bless you. Mr. Wilson, isn't it?"

"You can call me Sam," he said. Phil's eyebrows rose.

"I was hoping to find Dr. Banner here," he said. "Skye needs help." He indicated a young woman with olive skin, long hair, and a nervous look in her eyes. "She's just received powers and needs to learn to control them."

"I'm here to support her," a young man with a Scottish accent and curly hair said. "My name's Fitz."

Introductions and confrontations were swiftly dealt with. Phil tried to leave, but Tony demanded that he stay and explain himself to the others, and Skye – who could apparently make the ground move, why the hell was she in a _skyscraper_? – convinced him to stay. He agreed to see them settled in, and got JARVIS to record his story. He described his resurrection, and the part he was trying to play in rebuilding SHIELD.

The next morning, Tony received a new soulmark, and apparently Phil had gained a few as well.

"You're not seriously leaving before you've met them?" he asked Phil. "Spitting in the face of Fate, are you?"

"I have a job to get back to—"

"Captain Rogers and Dr. Banner have returned with Sergeant Barnes," JARVIS announced, interrupting him.

"Shit," Phil muttered.

"You wanna be the coward and not stick around while they watch the recording?" Tony said acerbically. "Fine. But you've gotta meet them sometime. We all recognised Steve and Bruce's writing, and we all have new soulmarks in writing which has to be Barnes'."

"I'm not here to play nursemaid to all of you," Phil said. "I was supposed to be, but then I died, got my own team, and now I have to fix the mess HYDRA got us into. I don't know what the hell your father and his friends were thinking, letting Zola work with the SSR from the beginning." He shook his head. "I'm leaving. Goodbye, Mr. Stark."

He reached the elevator just as it arrived. The doors opened, and Barnes walked out, flanked by Bruce and Steve. Phil stepped back, but they just stared at him. Even from this distance, Tony saw him swallow.

"Rogers," he said, nodding at Steve. "Banner. Sergeant Barnes. Good to see that you're back."

"Thank you," Barnes said, eyes wide. "You're one of my—"

"I have to be going," Phil said. He waved to Fitz and Skye, who were eating cereal together on the sofa. "I'll say hello to the team for you."

"Bye, DC."

"See you later, sir."

"Good to see you again, Agent Coulson," Bruce said, staring at him.

"Good to see you _alive_," Steve said. "Aren't you going to explain yourself?"

"Ask JARVIS. I'm not going through that again."

"Or you could ask me," Fitz said. "Since I've seen the records."

Without another word, Phil left in the elevator, and Tony lowered his head. He noticed Barnes walking over to him, and braced himself for… he didn't know what.

"I'm sorry about your parents," Barnes said. Yep. Kind of what he expected. "It was my fault." Tony shrugged, still not looking up.

"Guns don't hurt people; people hurt people," he quipped. When he peeked, he saw Barnes staring at the floor, obviously distressed. "HYDRA killed my parents. You were just their gun."

"How… how can you just…?"

"I've had more time to come to terms with it, I guess." Tony sipped his scotch. "The Blame Game's no fun. Clint was brainwashed once, and Loki tried it with me. I can't hold it against you, especially when it was so much worse for you. Clint organised a couple of attacks during the course of, what, a day or two? And he wasn't cryogenically frozen repeatedly. _And_ he still has both his arms." He looked at the metal one, fighting the urge to reach out and touch it. "If you ever want me to tinker with it, or just do some repairs, let me know. Hell, if you don't trust me, you could try Fitz over there. He's an engineer. A damn good one. I would've poached him from the academy if I wasn't going through my whole mid-life crisis at the time, or whatever the press called it."

"Thank you," Barnes said quietly. "For not calling me a monster."

"Ah, hell," Tony said. "Of course you're not a monster. Don't believe anyone who tells you that."

"My dad's the definition of a monster," Skye piped up. "You look a hell of a lot more sane, if it's any consolation."

"Um… thank you?"

"Let's get you a drink," Tony said, dragging Barnes over to the bar. "What would you like? C'mon, pick something. If I haven't got it, I'll have someone get it, okay?"

"Anything?" Barnes looked unsure. Tony knew how important choice was for the man.

"Whatever you want," he said. "I'll get it for you."

Barnes gave him a small smile, and that's when Tony knew he was in trouble.

* * *

Bruce was still working with Skye, and Fitz had refused to leave her. Tony tried to tempt him into the workshop, thinking that that might've been why the Scot was still around; but no. He was just that ridiculously loyal to Skye.

Tony had heard of FitzSimmons, of course. Yeah, he'd been going through a personal crisis – at one point dying – when he first heard about their work at the academy. He was only interested in Fitz's work, but he would've found something for Simmons to do nearby if he'd been able to snap up the engineer. The next thing he'd heard, they'd gone into the field. A huge waste of talent, he'd thought; but at least they'd been keeping Phil alive.

It took awhile, and a bit of observation, before he realised part of the reason Fitz wouldn't work with him: brain damage. JARVIS reported it, and Phil had confirmed it when Tony bugged him about why Fitz spent more time with Skye than doing engineering work. His hands and his mental dictionary? Tony and Bruce could totally help with that. Or at least Tony's money and hiring the best specialists could help, since Bruce pointed out that he wasn't that kind of doctor.

Mulling over problems was a great way to keep Tony awake. He ventured out to the kitchen during the night a few times. Due to his tower-mates being the kind who had nightmares on a semi-regular basis, it was inevitable that he'd run into Bucky at some point. He probably had the most nightmare fuel to deal with. When Tony saw him sitting alone, still as a statue, he clattered about making hot chocolate. Well, getting the coffee machine to make hot chocolate, and why did nearly everyone else have trouble working it? The only two people aside from Tony who could work the coffee machine were Fitz and Thor (to Tony's ever-lasting surprise).

"Here," he said, placing a mug in front of Bucky. The soldier rubbed his eyes with both hands. That must've hurt with the metal one. "C'mon, Edward Scissorhands, drink up. Not allergic, are you?"

Bucky shook his head, and took a sip. His eyes closed, and he smiled. Yeah, Tony's heart was definitely in danger. He peered while Tony tried his own hot chocolate. Oh yeah. Perfect. Tony was a certified genius.

"Who's Edward Scissorhands?" Bucky said. Tony nearly choked.

"No one's shown you that movie yet?" he asked. Bucky shook his head. "Actually, yeah, I can see that some people might consider it insensitive. But it's Tim Burton and Johnny Depp and… yeah, we're gonna watch it. You wanna go straight to bed after this, or are you up for a movie?"

"I can handle a movie."

"Great!"

They were settling down when Tony became aware that Bucky was watching him.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Who is your non-platonic soulmate?" he said. "Which one?"

Tony sat back slowly, cradling his still-warm mug of chocolaty excellence.

"I'm no one's non-platonic soulmate," he replied, hoping that was it.

It wasn't.

"By choice?" Bucky said far too perceptively. Tony fiddled with some of the foam as JARVIS automatically selected English as the language.

"Nope," he said. Better to be honest. "But I've gotten by like that for years, and I'll _continue_ to get by like that. Never know when I might find someone who'd actually… want that with me."

Bucky remained silent as they watched the film. Tony was crushed with guilt when he saw the tears on Bucky's cheeks by the end.

"This was a bad idea, wasn't it?"

"No," Bucky said. "Best idea in the world. I hate it when people tread lightly `round me. How am I supposed to adjust if I'm not challenged sometimes?"

"Good way of looking at it," Tony said.

"Thank you," he said, turning his head to look at Tony. "For being what I need."

"Anytime."

* * *

Fitz was playing with a screwdriver when Tony realised that he wasn't alone. He looked up and grinned.

"Come to play with my toys?" he asked. "Finally! What took you so long?"

"Bruce requested time alone with Skye. Said he wanted to see whether she learnt faster without me monitoring her progress. Besides, JARVIS is always watching over us."

"That he is," Tony said, straightening up. "Wanna help me with the latest design for Clint's trick arrows? I want the tip to be able to stick like blue-tack to whatever it hits, but stick fast. Super adhesive. Then we need to be able to un-stick it. The idea is to reduce the level of damage by not breaking windows, or walls, or desks, or columns—"

"Simmons would be better at the, uh, the s-solution. Chemicals."

"But we still need to be able to shape it, and have it stick on impact," Tony said. "It'd be even sweeter if the arrow could bounce back into shape afterwards. Here. These are the specs I've drawn up."

While Fitz was studying them with a dexterity that was impressive, muttering notes to himself, Tony considered how to broach a delicate subject.

"I was so preoccupied with the soulmark on my back turning out to be Agent's, that I didn't notice the two other marks, just around my arc reactor," Tony said. Fitz glanced over his shoulder at Tony. "Not uncommon for it to itch during the night. I need it to fill up the cavity, and it does power the suit, but it's a phantom itch from when the shrapnel used to be there. Thing is, the words are the first ones you and Skye said to me. I'm used to soulmarks being all in random places – sometimes I forget where – so it took awhile."

"That's alright," Fitz said. "We knew it was unlikely that we'd find our, our non-platonic soulmates here."

"What about the two of you?"

Fitz hesitated. "How do you know?"

"How do I know what? There are a lot of things I know, Scotty."

"When you've found your, uh… romantic one?"

"I wouldn't know," he said, shrugging. "I keep thinking I've found them, and they're always interested in or with someone else."

"Are you serious?"

"Yep."

"So you haven't got your eye on anyone at _all_?"

Tony shifted, thinking of Bucky's eyes, glistening after _Edward Scissorhands_, and whatever other movies Tony had shown him that made him cry. _How to Train Your Dragon_ came to mind.

"I wouldn't say that," he muttered. "You haven't found yours?"

"No," Fitz said, expanding part of the blueprints. "When I met Skye I flirted with her, badly. I cringe at the, uh…"

"Memory?"

"Yeah. But then we almost lost Simmons, and I thought it was her." He grimaced. "That didn't work out, either. No one's ever seemed interested."

"It can't be because we're engineers. Engineers are awesome, and you'll never get me to say otherwise."

"Absolutely," Fitz said, and he grinned. "It's just a bit lonely sometimes."

"So why didn't the rest of the team come?" Tony asked. "Are you Skye's best friend on board?"

"I wouldn't have said so, no. But I kept her, uh, quaking-thing secret from everyone else. I'm the only one who hasn't treated like she's…" He looked down at his hands, falling silent.

"Different?" Tony offered. Fitz nodded. "Maybe your first instincts with her were right?"

"I wish," he murmured. "Her soulmark on me… it's the darkest any of them have ever been. I want to protect her. She's had a bad life, and she's imp…"

"Important to you."

"Yeah."

"I know the feeling."

"When are you going to make a move on Barnes?"

Tony inhaled through his teeth. "Please don't tell me I'm obvious?"

"I think it's because I understand what you're going through."

"That must be it." Tony ruffled his hair, and Fitz smacked his hand away with a laugh.

"Are we going to get on with any work?" he asked.

"That's more like it! That's what I've been waiting to hear from you for weeks. Thought I was going to have to adopt you to keep you around. C'mon, buddy. Let's amaze the hell out of our resident Merida."

"You're on, Stark."

* * *

In the middle of _How to Train Your Dragon 2_, Bucky rested his arm around Tony.

"Awful quiet tonight, Tony," he said. "Usually you react more than this. Something else on your mind?"

Tony glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "What makes you say that?"

"I'm observant." He raised a hand. "Sniper."

He snorted. "Yeah, should've seen that coming."

"If I asked you to try it, would you… go out with me? On a date."

Tony tensed, and swallowed. "Who've you been talking to? If it's Fitz, I'll kill him."

"Don't kill Fitz. He's your baby engineer. And he didn't tell me anything. He's too busy mooning over Skye."

"You noticed that?"

"Again, sniper. Observant."

"Pity bird-brain doesn't notice more in social interactions."

"You haven't answered my question. If you're not interested, just say so."

Tony bowed his head. "Not one of my soulmates has ever been interested in me romantically. I'm just getting older. Why would it happen now, especially with a super soldier who's never going to age?"

"Like I said, if you're not interested—"

"Shit, of course I am." He grabbed Bucky's hand before he could remove it from Tony's shoulder. "Never had a soulmate who felt the same way about me."

Bucky blinked, looking Tony up and down. "Good thing you're not a sniper. You'd be terrible."

"Hey!"

"Really. Have you seen the way Banner looks at you? Or Barton and Romanov? Steve and Sam?"

"They don't—"

"They do. I don't know why nothing happened before, but you could probably have your pick of any of them."

Tony stared into Bucky's eyes. "So could you."

"But I don't want them. I only want you."

No time to waste. Tony leaned in and kissed Bucky gently. JARVIS paused the film.

"You know," Tony said, moving his lips to Bucky's ear, "if you weren't such a gentleman, we could skip the date and go straight to bed right now. I mean, we've seen enough movies alone together." Bucky smiled wickedly, and Tony could see why Steve talked about Bucky's success with the girls during the war.

"I don't have to be a gentleman," he said, his Brooklyn accent thicker than ever. Tony shivered.

"That a promise?" he asked.

"Definitely."

* * *

When Tony and Fitz resumed their work on Clint's arrows, they both took in each other's mussed appearances. Tony had definite love-bites just below his neckline, which Fitz noted with a smirk.

"Not bad for a couple of engineers, eh?" he said.

"Did she rock your world?"

"Mind your own business, Stark."

"The tower didn't collapse around us, so I'm guessing she's finally learnt control."

"Did your bed survive a super soldier?"

"Barely. I'll need your help reinforcing it later."

"Well, I suppose it's only fair," Fitz said, "considering that we might need the same help."

* * *

**Because after the latest episodes of **_**Agents of SHIELD**_**, I have all this Fitz-Skye feels, which is confusing me because I just finished season one with Mum, which usually gives me FitzSimmons feels. My feels are all over the place! Gah!**

**Popular pairing is popular. Bucky/Tony was requested by Post U Later, kogouma, and AngeLinks. Three readers! In other words, it had to be done. And I liked the idea of Tony being in unrequited love with a whole bunch of people before finding the one who loves him back, and then discovering that his previous feelings for some of the others would have been returned by now. And, as I said, Fitz-Skye.**

**Review, please! It makes this whole endeavour worthwhile for the author.**


	40. Too Darn Hot (Blake x Phil)

**Note: breaking with the usual thing. In this, the soulmates have known that they're soulmates for years, but never done anything about it. Then bad stuff happens.**

**Warning: potentially dubious consent in the first part of the story, due to the nature of 'sex pollen'.**

"Too Darn Hot"

"What the hell happened?" Phil asked, staring as Ward and Trip moved John Garrett out of the van and onto a stretcher.

"Something hit `im," Trip said. "We were following up a lead. Garrett went into one room – said he could see a laptop in there – and we were looking in other places when there was a smash."

"Broken window," Ward said, wheeling the stretcher to medical while Trip ran ahead to tell Simmons. "There was a kind of grenade on the floor. Trip packed it up for Fitz. There was a smell of gas, but it'd mostly disappeared by the time we got there. Garrett was moaning, so we grabbed him and got the hell out of there. We had to sedate him after he started thrashing."

"Go make sure he's strapped down before Simmons begins her examination," Phil said.

"Here's the box."

"I'll take it to Fitz. Go. Keep me informed."

* * *

_Half an hour later_

"He's in heat. Or rut, since he's male."

"You have GOT to be kidding me."

"Sir, it matches some early records of HYDRA's foray into germ warfare," Simmons said timidly. "Fitz is still examining the traces left in the cylinder, and I have yet to test any blood samples. But Agent Garrett's reactions are practically textbook."

"Damn good thing we have forms for everything," Phil muttered. "HYDRA. They can't seriously be in on this?"

"They're not the only ones who have attempted to create an aphrodisiacal gas of this nature—"

"Simmons, I've heard of fan fiction. You're talking about sex pollen."

She blushed. She'd sedated Garrett again, after he fought against the restraints – under Ward's supervision – and began to say things which had even shocked May. Phil was sorry he missed it. He'd have to review the security footage later, before Skye could wipe it. Knowing her, she'd have made a backup copy. She was getting to learn the ways of SHIELD.

"Something like that, sir," she said. "His hormones are in constant fluctuation. I might be able to create a way to regulate them, because that seems to be what he needs; based on the old records, the best way to combat this is to level them out, preferably with other hormones."

"You mean that his body needs to concentrate on it by having sex with someone?"

"That would be the most expedient way, sir. Unless someone can get to a… an adult store, but judging from what he was saying, that isn't what he needs."

"What are you saying, Simmons?" Phil asked. It was like drawing teeth.

"Are you aware of Agent Garrett's sexual orientation, sir?" she said. And Phil hadn't thought her face could get any redder.

"Bisexual, as far as I can tell."

"Do you know who his soulmate is?"

"He's never told me, and the one time I glimpsed the writing, I didn't recognise it."

"Oh dear. Do you know who may be on his consent form, then?"

"No idea," Phil said, wracking his brains. "Simmons, you were saying earlier…?"

"Well, if he had a male partner…" She cleared her throat. "He doesn't wish to be…"

"On the receiving end?"

"Yes!" she squeaked, averting her eyes.

"I could've told you that he's a top."

"…W-what?"

He rolled his eyes. "Your generation didn't invent sex, Simmons."

"Sir!"

"It didn't."

"Sir?" It was May. She looked from Simmons' red face to Phil's raised eyebrows. "I had his forms checked out. No soulmate listed."

"His consent form?"

"…You."

"Fuck. I forgot I'd agreed to that." He shrugged at their expressions. "This was a long time ago, after those forms were reintroduced. After one particular mission, we'd specified each other on our paperwork. My soulmate wasn't interested, so John and I…" He sighed. "I don't know whether he'd think differently now. My last boyfriend—"

"The cellist?" May said. Phil nodded.

"Thinks I'm dead, and it's probably better that way. It gives Andrew a chance to find his soulmate. Simmons." He turned to her. Some of the blush had faded now. "Is there any way we can get him lucid enough for, say, five minutes? Just so I can ask Garrett for consent? If he wants someone else—"

"I cannot guarantee a great window of time before the strain gives him a heart attack, or he cooks," she said.

"Cooks?"

"His temperature spikes approximately five degrees with each change in hormone levels, before returning to its previous temperature. But the base temperature was growing steadily while I was in there. If it continues, he could die within twenty-four hours."

"How long will it take to knock up a cure?"

"If a chemical cure can be developed… I can only do it after I've examined his blood. It could take fifteen hours, if we're lucky."

"Shit." Phil stared through the window. Even from here, he could see the sweat pouring off Garrett, the temperature gauge far too high, his heart rate steadily rising. "I still need his permission first."

"I have something which may work, but only until the end of a fluctuation. That should give you the five minutes you require."

"Good."

* * *

Timing it at the start of a cycle, Simmons injected a cooling solution, which would clear his head temporarily.

"John?" Phil said, stroking his dark hair down. Garrett's eyes fixed on his.

"Yeah?"

"You've been dosed with sex pollen."

Garrett laughed. "Funny. I thought you just said I'd been… oh." Phil was nodding.

"I'm still the name on your consent form," he said. "If you know where your soulmate is—"

"No."

"Okay. Do you want me to take care of you?" Garrett nodded. "John, I need you to say it. If there's anyone else we can get for you, anyone you'd prefer—"

"You." He clutched Phil's hand. "I trust you."

"Alright. We're preparing a room, specially cooled. Trip will remotely monitor your vitals while FitzSimmons work on a cure. Skye's organised food and drinks… and other things."

"You don't mind?" Garrett said. He looked and sounded almost pathetic, a far cry from the witty, charming, confident man he usually was. Phil squeezed his hand.

"Of course not," he said. "I'm unattached. We agreed on this, remember? You'd do the same for me."

"That I would. Remember the club?"

"Reminisce later."

"What about Blake?"

Phil froze, and then swallowed.

"He has no say in this."

"He's your—"

"You know our history, or lack thereof. Now come on. We have to get you to the interrogation room."

"Gonna play bad cop, bad prisoner, are we?" he quipped. That was more like the John Garrett that Phil knew.

"Sir, he's about to relapse," Simmons said, eyes on his vitals.

"Better sedate me, then, sweetheart," Garrett said, holding out his arm. "I thought you were gonna turn into a tomato before."

* * *

Phil had prepared himself while Garrett was sleeping through the twenty or so minutes that sedation bought them. It'd been awhile – since before New York – but he had his own toys for those nights when he got lonely, and he was making use of them now.

"Coulson?" May knocked on the door. "When you're ready. Room's stocked with food, drinks, and other supplies."

"I hope you were very thorough."

"Naturally. Skye actually went and bought them. Said she got strange looks, and pointed out that she'd feel a lot less awkward if she was buying them for herself."

Phil dressed in casual clothes; better than having buttons ripped off. He wore slippers, and was grateful that they didn't meet any of the 'kids' along the way. If he was in charge of salaries, he would've given May a huge raise for that alone. They all knew he was gay, but he was a figure of authority, just as Garrett was.

"There's also a first aid kit," May said as they stopped outside the door. "You know where the distress button is—"

"I know," he said. "Thank you, May."

"Go get `im, cowboy," she said wryly.

Phil entered the room just as Garrett was stirring. He was only partially dressed, and Phil could understand why. The room was freezing.

"Like the arctic in here," he remarked, kicking off his slippers. "Good thing we're about to warm up."

"Phil…?"

"I'm coming," he said, approaching Garrett.

"Not yet, you're not. Not until I'm inside you."

Phil couldn't really blame Simmons for blushing. It'd been a long time since the club, but he was pretty sure that the sex pollen was partially to blame for Garrett's voice being so smooth and low. And enticing. Seduction wouldn't be required.

"Aren't you going to finish stripping?" he asked. Garrett pulled off his underwear, but left his sweater on. He was stupidly attached to those things.

"You're still too dressed," Garrett said as he pulled on a condom. Phil chuckled at the note of irritation, and began to lift his Captain America t-shirt.

With an incredible speed, Garrett was there, yanking it off. He pressed Phil up against the wall and sucked a bruise into his neck. Phil's knees trembled and his eyes rolled back in his head.

"John," he said. "What're you—"

"Stay. Still," Garrett said. Then he dropped to his knees in front of Phil and tugged the rest of his clothes down. "Feet." Phil stepped out, and swallowed as Garrett stroked all the way up his legs and around the back. "Came prepared, did you?"

"Like you said," Phil replied, "not coming until you're in me."

Garrett's grin was sharklike. "That's right."

* * *

Phil was pleasantly sore. It was hour three, if his watch was anything to go by, and whatever had hit Garrett was keeping him going. Phil didn't mind. He was a bit of a masochist: see, in unrequited love with his soulmate for over a quarter of a century.

"Why haven't you taken the rest of your clothes off?" he asked quietly. Garrett was spooned around him, hand over Phil's heart while they rested.

"You never saw what happened to me in Sarajevo, did you?"

Phil's hand was over his, and tightened. "I was there."

"Yeah, but on a different mission."

"Still heard it on the comms. Heard _you_ on the comms before the explosion cut it off. I wish the tech back then was as good as it is now. I…" He sighed. "I freaked out, and then disobeyed orders. Grabbed the nearest vehicle, hotwired it, and set off for your last known location. Heard that the medical team had finally got to you, so I turned back." He laughed softly. "Got hell for that."

Garrett was quiet for a minute.

"You came for me, even after the medical team said they couldn't?" he said.

"Yeah. We'd been through some thick and thin together. Of course I was going to try and rescue you when no one else would risk it." He wriggled back against Garrett. "I'm sorry it happened to you at all. If I could switch places…"

"You're a good man, Phil Coulson. Too damn good for a guy like me. Kinda wish we were soulmates. It'd solve a lot of problems."

"I don't know," Phil said, glancing back at him with a smile. "I don't think I'd change you."

"You wouldn't?"

"Nah. Better to keep you like this."

"You're too good for Felix Blake."

Now it was Phil's turn to stay silent for awhile.

"Doesn't mean I don't still care about him," he admitted.

"It's been, what, thirty years, Phil!"

"Your point being?"

Garrett sighed. "You need a boyfriend, and I will find one for you. After you catch the Clairvoyant, we'll look into finding someone who's just right. Who knows?" He ran his hand down Phil's front. "Maybe I'll be lucky enough to get you all to myself."

* * *

It was uncomfortable meeting Felix again.

Simmons had come up with a counter-drug in sixteen and a half hours, which was apparently a record. It was only possible because Fitz and Skye made her take power naps. Phil and Garrett had shared a drink, reminisced over the time they were undercover in what turned out to be a BDSM club, and generally dispelled any awkwardness which may've arisen. Since it was really just another mission – with two kinds of debriefing – they laughed it off.

But to see his soulmate one sleep later, after being shagged – to use Simmons' word – out of his mind repeatedly by someone else, didn't do Phil any good. He knew the others had been informed; and if they hadn't, the lingering bite marks on his neck would've given it away. He caught Garrett eyeing them smugly from time to time.

"How are you feeling?" Felix asked. Phil frowned slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"After… yesterday."

"We did what had to be done. John's alive, I'm not walking bow-legged. I count it as a win."

"Phil—"

"What?"

"…What about his soulmate?"

"John's never told me who it is, and they're not listed anywhere that we can find. As you know, being someone's soulmate doesn't automatically mean a happily ever after. It's possible to find that with someone else. I almost had it with…" He sighed. "We have a mission to prepare for. See you later, Felix."

He regretted that conversation as soon as he heard that Deathlok had put Felix in a critical condition. Phil was automatically notified, because Felix had no next of kin and Phil was his listed soulmate.

"I'll get whoever did this to you," he whispered, squeezing Felix's hand. "I swear, Blake. Whoever made Mike do that, they're dead."

* * *

At the motel, Phil and May lay down next to each other in silence for awhile.

"Life sucks," Phil said, and he sipped his soda.

"HYDRA sucks," May said.

"And people in general."

"People who gain your trust through sex."

"Yeah." Phil swallowed. "I don't know what's worse: the idea that I might've been the target, and that Garrett would be the one to 'help' me; or that he was the target all along, so that he'd seem like a victim. He was good. Even with that chemical riding through him, he played the part of an old friend who needed my help. If I'd topped, I'd still feel the same way; betrayed, unclean."

"I know how you feel. I haven't known Ward all that long, and it was just working off stress. But you and Garrett were friends."

"I thought we were. God, he was talking about… about after we caught the Clairvoyant, that he'd help me find a boyfriend, maybe him. My mind keeps going through the worst case scenarios. If HYDRA had taken over, what if we'd been taken prisoner? What could he have done, knowing every place to touch me to get a reaction? What if that's what it was about, the sex pollen? Coercing me into sleeping with him – literally, God – and then using it against me? And for you…" He turned his head to look at May. "I can't imagine how you feel."

"They'd never take us alive," she said. "Not unless we had an escape plan."

"We all trusted Ward. None of you had worked with Garrett before; I practically vouched for him."

"Hill vouched for Ward. The rot was there long before either of us joined SHIELD. It is _not_ our fault. Do you understand?"

"My mind does, but my body… I've started having nightmares."

"Victims of sexual abuse do."

Phil covered his mouth, unsure whether he wanted to throw up or cry or scream.

"Concentrate on Blake," May said, touching his back. "Phil, we can still find out where he is, and make sure he's okay."

"If they've hurt him—"

"You check your soulmark constantly, so you know he's still alive. You'll feel it if he dies."

"Melinda, what if he _does_ die? It'll be all my—"

"_Not_ your fault, Phil. We'll find him. I've got Hill on the lookout. She told me that if she locates him, she'll get him into private care at Stark Industries."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"…Thank you."

* * *

Whiteness. Blurry whiteness. Hard to focus. Pressure on his hand.

"Felix?"

He knew that voice. Didn't he?

"Felix, it's Phil. You're in the hospital. I'm right beside you."

Phil? Soulmate. That's right.

"I won't leave you. Not until you wake up and start getting better."

Don't leave.

Felix tried to reach out. He sort of moved his hand. Phil (?) held it tighter.

"He's waking up! Nurse, he's waking up!"

Felix tried to speak, but there was something blocking the way. He peered at the dark blur above him.

"Shh," Phil said. "Don't push yourself. You've been in a coma for a couple of weeks. I'll tell you more when you can process it. No, no. Don't speak. There's a breathing tube in your mouth."

"Mr. Coulson, if you could please wait outside…"

Wasn't it _Agent _Coulson?

"He's my soulmate."

"And you haven't bonded with him. The record says you met thirty years ago?"

"About that."

"And you never bonded with him, in all that time."

"He…" Phil's voice broke. "He didn't want to. I want… but he didn't."

"Since he rejected you, you don't have permission to be in here."

"Please, he's—"

"He's perfectly safe. You don't need to be here for the examination."

There was a sigh. The pressure left his hand. Felix barely managed to focus on Phil before the man left, never looking back.

"I've gotta admit," the nurse said, moving the back of the bed up. "I wouldn't wait three decades to bond with my soulmate. I wouldn't even wait three weeks."

Felix's head cleared gradually. He remembered the day he met Phil Coulson. Barely out of school, friends with Nick Fury, notorious Captain America fan, and with a cheeky smile that took Felix's breath away. He got on well with other new recruits, and Felix was the only one who hadn't met him yet. He'd been off on a mission and had a broken arm, among other injuries; but paperwork called, and it wasn't his dominant arm. It's not like he was in any fit state to go into the field, so he may as well be productive.

"Blake, get over here!" Fury called. Arching an eyebrow, coffee in hand, Felix wandered over. He half-smiled at Phil, who smiled widely back. It took Felix everything not to drop his mug. "Felix Blake, Phil Coulson."

"Was it a clean break?" Phil said, gesturing to the cast.

"Better than the alternative," Felix said, dazed. He couldn't believe it. Phil Coulson was his soulmate?

"Well, what d'you know?" Phil said. If possible, his smile grew wider. "I'd shake your hand, but…" He nodded at the coffee.

"Never try to separate Blake from his coffee," Fury said. He was too perceptive, his eyes flicking from Felix to Phil. "Soulmates? Should've seen that coming." He turned to Felix. "Phil likes his coffee, but he has a weakness for mini doughnuts. And Captain America."

"Nick," Phil said, dropping his gaze.

"Felix lives on coffee, is a stickler for the rules – have fun getting him to break them – and likes strange artefacts. Good dates would include going to museums. 'Having coffee' could actually not be a euphemism with the two of you." He patted them both on the shoulder. "Good luck."

What Fury said about Felix going by the book was true, and he found out that Phil was, despite the grin, a follower of the rules as well. They spent lunches together while Felix recovered, and went to three museums in a day as a celebration when he was given a clean bill of health. They also went out for drinks after each successful mission.

They weren't even tipsy the night that Phil kissed Felix outside his quarters at SHIELD. Felix wasn't expecting it. He liked it, leaned into it, let Phil press him against a wall…

Then he remembered that Phil was not only a co-worker, but a level below Felix, and there were rules. There was no mention of exceptions for soulmates.

Of course he'd checked. He'd checked because he wanted to know whether or not he could be with Phil Coulson.

"Stop," he said, pushing Phil backwards. He understood the look of confusion.

"Felix—"

"We can't. It's against SHIELD regulations."

"But—"

"I'm sorry, but it's not worth the risk of getting in trouble."

Phil opened his mouth, and Felix tried to prepare himself for another argument. If he wasn't careful, he'd give in…

"You're right," Phil said. "I thought you could… but no. Not worth it. You're right. Uh, good night, Fe… Agent Blake."

Felix swallowed, nodding. "Good night, Agent Coulson."

He'd regretted it for thirty years. No more. Felix had nearly died; Deathlok and the Clairvoyant were real threats. He had to get in and ask Phil for a second chance before John Garrett could hook him.

* * *

Felix looked like he was sleeping so peacefully that Phil didn't want to disturb him. But he'd been asked for a few times, so he went. He couldn't not go to his soulmate. It was the man who'd ordered him to throw Jemma off the bus… but it was also the man who'd given them the opportunity to follow Deathlok. It didn't come to anything, but the quick-thinking under fire was so damn Felix.

Phil decided to wait. If he had to wait more than an hour, he'd leave. Probably. It wasn't as if they were bonded. He wished… but he could wish everything under the sun and it wasn't any more likely to come true.

Felix stirred when Phil touched his hand. It took half a minute before he was clear-eyed and focused.

"Hello," Phil said.

"Phil."

"I'm here."

"Mmm. I know."

"How are you feeling?"

"No clean break."

Phil inhaled through his teeth. That was…

"No," he said. "I guess not. Are you in pain?"

Felix shook his head. He squeezed Phil's hand weakly, and clumsily weaved their fingers together. Phil frowned, and met Felix's eyes. There was something… strange about his expression. His eyes never left Phil's face, and he seemed to be trying to tell him something, or beg him.

"What is it?" he asked. Felix grimaced. "Do you need a nurse? A doctor?"

"You."

"What… what about me?"

"Need you. Want…"

No. It wasn't happening. Not after all this time. Phil had died and come back to life. They'd both been hospitalised numerous times. Felix had had plenty of chances to do this if near-death brought clarity. He was misunderstanding something.

"What do you need me to do?"

Felix growled, and then started coughing. Phil helped him drink some water, and rubbed his back.

"I think I should tell you about what's been happening since Deathlok shot you."

"No," he said. "Not yet."

"Tell me what you need me to do, Felix. Anything."

Felix closed his eyes. "Second chance. Please."

"…I don't understand. Second chance—?"

"Me." He inhaled and exhaled slowly. "Should've said 'Screw the rules'. You're my damn soulmate. If… if you could give me another chance…"

He looked away from Phil and swallowed visibly. Phil could hardly breathe.

"After all this time?" he said.

"Every day." Felix met his gaze again. "Since then. Tried to tell you, but you avoided me. Can't blame you. Never stopped… wanting to say something. You moved on. But if there's a chance… I saw the way Garrett looked at you." Phil tensed. "Please tell me you're not with him."

"_No_," Phil said. "I'm not with him. I'll _never_ be with him."

"Really?"

"He's dead."

Felix's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, Phil. You were friends—"

"I killed him."

"You… what?"

"Turns out that he was the Clairvoyant, and that HYDRA infiltrated SHIELD from the start," Phil said. "There's no more SHIELD. Well, technically. Nick Fury has faked his death and left me in charge of rebuilding. Now I'm Director Coulson."

Felix's face fell.

"I… don't know what to say," he said.

"I think… I should clarify a couple of things," Phil said, leaning forward and making sure that he had Felix's full attention. "No SHIELD, so no regulations. No levels. 'Director' is just a title; everyone has equal say, as long as they have a lanyard."

"Lanyard?"

"Long story. As soon as I can, I'm taking you to our new base, The Playground. I hope you're truthful, because there's a lie detector to get past."

"No special treatment for the director's bonded soulmate?"

Phil's breath caught. "Not… bonded." Felix shut his eyes. "You're in no condition for that. We'll have to wait until you get the all-clear."

"You want to?"

"I'm pathetic and a masochist. I hate that I kept loving you. I'm still damn in love with you thirty years on, which _sucks_, by the way. I hate you, and your stupid coffee, and your sarcastic smile, and I want to kiss you breathless right now."

"Is that a good idea?"

"Probably not."

"Do it anyway." Phil tried not to look shocked; clearly, he failed. "We're agents of SHIELD, Phil. We live life on the edge anyway. Kiss me."

"Bossy bastard."

"I haven't had any coffee for a month."

"I'll fix that as soon as you're cleared for caffeine."

* * *

**Huh?**

**No one requested this pairing, which is quite right, because we see them together in the show and we know they've known each other for a long time.**

**BUT! I wanted to write – and indeed wrote a very long scene – involving sex pollen and the mutually unrequited pairing of Blake/Coulson. Then I decided to do what I ended up doing (i.e. the above chapter), and this was the result. I honestly can't justify breaking my rule, aside from the fact that I didn't want to do this as a standalone, and since the characters don't get together until the end… anyway.**

**Hope no one hates it. And that things as suitably squirmy knowing that Garrett's the bad guy.**

**Anyway.**

**Please review!**


	41. Arrows and Aftercare (Clint x Jemma)

**Warning: includes mild BDSM scene during a mission. Author has never written a BDSM scene before. It includes bondage, a riding crop, nipple clamps, and implied breathplay. Also drug references. You've been warned.**

"Arrows and Aftercare"

Ever since Coulson had agreed to move New SHIELD's operation to a Stark Industries-owned building near Stark Tower, the team had been pestered by various Avengers. SI employees were helping them move everything from The Playground to the bus, and then from the bus to their new base. It would've been fine, only with Jemma Simmons overseeing the equipment transfer, some of the technicians were pretty… scared.

"I told you to handle them _carefully_!" she said when there was an ominous jangling in one of the packing boxes. "Did you not even use enough foam or packing peanuts? Don't skimp on safety! Some of these devices are _extremely_ delicate, or did you not receive the memo?"

Clint watched, amused, as Simmons barked out orders to Stark's employees. She was a regular little English spitfire, far different from the quiet bio-scientist he'd heard about. No one had mentioned this bossy side of her. He kind of liked it.

(No 'kind of' about it. He _really_ liked it.)

Suddenly, she drew her shoulders back even further, levelled the hardest stare he'd ever seen at one moron who was about to pick up the box beside her, and opened her mouth.

"Leave that alone or I'll have you punished," she said in a low, clear voice.

Clint nearly went to his knees. He must've made some noise – surprised, shocked, turned on – because her gaze snapped around to meet his. She looked down his body, eyes widening when she saw what he noticed: his knees were bent as though he was about to drop. He quickly straightened up and disappeared around the corner, glad that Coulson's team wouldn't be living in Stark Tower. If she was always like that, he didn't think he could cope with Natasha's silent laughter.

* * *

Jemma had learnt sign language for her deaf cousin. That was British Sign Language, of course; she personally found it quite easy to learn ASL when she joined SHIELD. It was an optional short course, and she was one of the prized pupils. She'd never been more grateful for it when she started going into the field. Now that they were going to be working with the Avengers sometimes – especially Romanov and Barton, who were joining New SHIELD on a consulting basis – it seemed appropriate to brush up on her skills.

She _did_ have a more personal reason for wanting to remember ASL.

Sighing, Jemma rolled over in bed. They had double beds in their base, nice little rooms to themselves with a decent amount of storage space and actual en suites. She spent most of her time in the labs or common areas, so her personal space didn't matter as such.

Especially when there was no one else to share it with. Her hand landed on flat covers, and she scrunched the sheet up in her fist. With a tired huff, she pulled the spare pillow into her arms. She curled around it, wishing it was a person. A Hawkeye-shaped person, preferably. If she couldn't have her soulmate, she could at least dream about the Avenger with the muscled arms and wicked smile.

She'd noticed him when they were moving things to the new base. She'd seen his knees jerk when she used her Domme voice. There wasn't much hope that he was a true sub, because she'd affected male Doms before when she was truly pissed off with them. If they weren't going to be careful with scientific resources, they deserved to be reduced to tears. Honestly, the movers today worked for _Stark_. Surely they recognised the importance of…?

She groaned, burying her face in the pillow. She'd never get to sleep at this rate. Before SHIELD fell, Fitz had been willing enough to let her boss him around behind closed doors, just to get some of it out of her system. She'd visited a few discreet places when she had the time off and someone forced her to go out. Even the Boiler Room had a few areas which she had made use of when the stress of exams got to her.

If that technician hadn't touched her personal box, it would have been fine.

Jemma wasn't ashamed of being dominant outside of work, but she had an image to maintain, and the things in that box most certainly did _not_ fit with that image. There was even the possibility that someone might think that the collar was for _her_ neck, that the silk ties were for _her_ wrists, that…

She never let anyone near that box. Only Fitz knew some of the contents. It stayed in the back of her wardrobe, hidden beneath folded jeans she never wore and an ugly hat her grandmother had knitted not long before she died. The team knew not to touch that hat, ever.

Pulling the pillow closer, Jemma wished it was a person. At least it gave her arms something to hold, and she slowly, painfully, fell asleep.

* * *

Leo and Simmons went out sometimes. They were gradually returning to some resemblance of their former partnership. He didn't think he could be submissive the way he used to be, and she hadn't asked that of him yet.

They were shopping to top up their candy supplies when Simmons stopped outside a toy store. There were soft toys of the Avengers, which made him laugh. They worked with these people now. Well, sometimes. Simmons was staring at the Hawkeye plush.

"You should get it," he said. "I won't tell anyone."

"They probably don't make them any bigger," she said wistfully.

"Why would you want one bigger than that?"

"A pillow is only so big, and it's pillow-shaped."

He stared at her. "You're pining."

"No, I'm not."

"I don't know how you lasted undercover so long, you're still rubbish at lying."

"Shut up, Fitz!"

"Simmons, just buy the damn doll. If it was any bigger it'd be harder to sneak it on base."

"That's true," she murmured. "I suppose I could get one of the science kits 'for a laugh', one that's big enough to take a large bag, and sort of keep it hidden that way." Leo smiled. "I really am considering this, aren't I?"

"Yes, you really are. Shall we get sweets first?"

"We'd better."

She bought more junk food that she really needed, considering that she didn't share it with anyone, but since days off were rare, it was understandable. Leo probably also over-indulged, but justified it as being prepared. Then they went into the toy shop, and he took Simmons' bag from her.

"Grab a basket," he said. "You might need one."

The first thing to go in was the biggest Hawkeye soft toy that they could find. It was a bit bigger than a standard pillow size, and was fairly pliant, so that was good. Then they wandered through the other aisles. Simmons settled on a telescope – which they could actually use, probably – and a small, purple toy car.

"What on Earth is that for?" he asked, nodding towards it since his hands were full. She shrugged.

"I just think it's cute," she said.

"You never buy things just because you think they look 'cute'."

"Well, it's the kind of thing I might buy a…"

_A partner_, he thought. _A boyfriend. What I could've been once, if she'd ever looked at me that way_. Simmons didn't mind passing the time with submissive male strangers, but he knew that she was ultimately looking for her soulmate, wherever he might be. And if she thought he'd like a toy car, of course she was going to get it. A nice little present, if you were into that sort of thing. Hell, Leo knew a few people who'd appreciate one.

"You're just going to add it to the stockpile, aren't you?" he asked as they waited in line.

"What do you—?"

"Don't think I haven't noticed you eyeing things while we've been out. If you think your sub would like it—"

"I don't have a sub—"

"Then you get it. A waste of… of…"

"Money?" she asked tightly.

"Yeah, money until you find someone, if you ask me."

"I _didn't_ ask you!" He flinched, and she sighed. "I'm sorry, Fitz. I'm just lonely. I never really felt it all that much before, but now that we have double beds, I'm feeling it. That emptiness beside me."

"You're too damn sentimental for your own good."

"Eighty percent of the world's population have found their soulmate before they reach twenty five, and eighty-seven percent before they reach thirty. I just want…" She sighed. "I just want someone to take care of. I know that the situation is reversed – goodness knows we both need someone to drag us out of the lab – but it would be lovely to have someone to pamper."

"Here you are," he said, nudging her forward to pay for her purchases.

The fun part was going to be smuggling them onto base.

* * *

Because they worked for a covert organisation, the only way to get into a bedroom which wasn't your own was to use an override, which alerted security that there was a problem. So Jemma's room was fairly safe. She was able to leave her Hawkeye doll tucked under the covers and leave stupid trinkets like the toy car in the back of her wardrobe, stuffed in the box under the jeans. When it became a bit full, she started piling things beside the box until she could get a new one to hide them in. For the time being, it was safe.

"All hands on deck for this operation," Coulson told them in the briefing. "We're working with Barton and Romanov on this one; or, to be more accurate, they're working with us. A drug baron with HYDRA ties will be at the opening of a new club. We don't know what kind of club it is; it's all hush-hush."

"I couldn't find anything on it," Skye said.

"Damn, it must be secretive then," Mack said. She poked her tongue out at him. Coulson glared at her.

"Barton's going into the club," Coulson said. "Simmons, because this may involve illicit chemicals, you're going in as well."

"Is that wise?"

"Skye obtained five invitations: for you, Barton, May, Hunter, and Morse. Barton's going as your protection. You'll be made up first, your hair styled differently. All you have to do is go in, use Barton as cover while you identify anyone with symptoms of possible drug use over the comms, and then he'll get you out of there. Romanov's taking another entrance. They'll all await instructions based on your intel."

"So no pressure, then," she said.

"We'll make sure no one would recognise you without looking closely, just in case there's anyone you might've worked with when you were undercover. Just act natural, and no one will think to look at you twice. Follow Barton's lead."

"Very well, sir." It wasn't as though she had any other choice. And she wouldn't have to be around him all that long.

* * *

Timing as it was, they showed up separately. Not even a chance to say hello. Jemma had Romanov looking out for her, May was ahead in line, and Bobbi (heavily disguised) and Hunter were a few people back, so she was neither alone nor unprotected.

But as soon as she entered the club, she noticed three people she had worked alongside, one of them talking with a target. Keeping her head high and her eyes down, she walked past them, attempting to discern what kind of club it was. By all appearances, it seemed like an ordinary, slightly higher class establishment. She didn't order anything to eat or drink at the bar, just in case. On the other side of the room she saw Hawkeye, looking just like he had in the picture she'd been sent. Mouth-wateringly good, in tight faux-leather trousers which hid nothing, cowboy boots, and a shiny purple shirt which clung to his abs and had a few people staring. It was completed with a single earring.

"I see him," she whispered.

"And I can see you drooling," May replied. Jemma wiped at her mouth. "I meant metaphorically."

"…I knew that."

"Make. Contact."

_What kind of place is this_? she signed. She saw Barton's eyes widen. He shifted further back, and then discreetly signed, _I think it's for BDSM_.

Oh dear Lord.

_Are you sure_?

_Found out at the last minute. Why do you think I'm dressed like this_?

_I think you look gorgeous_, she signed. She could've kicked herself, and looked down, blushing, before she could see his reaction.

"Stop flirting and get over there before you attract any more attention," Bobbi said. Jemma had no idea where either she or Hunter were, but she could see May.

"On my way," she said. Just as she was weaving through the crowd to reach Barton, the owner of the club stood on a table and called for attention. She made it to Barton's side, but didn't have a chance to speak to him.

"Time for the fun to begin!" he said. "Ladies, gentlemen, and other patrons," there was some laughter, "pick your partner or partners and please, make good use of our facilities. Anyone who doesn't will be publicly punished."

He pressed something on a remote control, and panels which held paintings or fake flowers lowered to reveal a variety of restraints, paddles, whips, blindfolds, and so on. It nearly made Jemma dizzy to look at them.

"You can't leave yet," May murmured. "I'm going to make contact with Romanov in the ladies room."

"What are even half of these things for?" Hunter said.

"I can give you the names of a few people I know, but I haven't seen everyone in this room yet, and I don't think the drugs have been dispensed yet," Jemma said. She paused, then grabbed a couple of masks. She handed one to Clint, who put it on without question, while she strapped her own on. Better safe than sorry.

"We can't get you out covertly," Bobbi said.

"It's fine. I've got this." She looked at Barton, who raised his eyebrows. "Down on your knees, now."

His lips parted and he dropped to the floor. He hooked his hands behind his back like a pro, and Jemma grabbed the last riding crop from the nearest panel. She used it to lift his chin up, and their eyes met.

"Whatever you say, mistress," he purred.

What?

"Trust me to find my soulmate in a BDSM club," she said. His lips curled up at the edges.

"I much prefer this scenario to the ones I'd imagined," he said.

"What's your safeword?"

"Arrows."

"Good boy," she said. She nearly giggled, remembering that that's what she said to her stuffed toy. Barton chewed his lower lip. "Do you like restraints?"

"Probably not the best idea," May remarked.

"I don't mind, mistress," Barton said. Jemma grabbed a silk rope and knelt behind him.

"Just to keep your hands in place," she said. "Relax your arms. I know how to do this. I'm a doctor."

He let her tie the rope loosely. She pressed the end of it into his hands, so that he could pull on it and release the knot in case they needed to move quickly. She tucked her finger in the top of his trousers.

"I'm going to pull these down far enough to have some bare skin to work with," she informed him.

"Yes please, mistress."

"Such a fast learner," she praised, and she placed a kiss at the nape of his neck. He shivered. Her soulmate! She was still trying to believe it. In the meantime, she had a mission to attend to. If there were chemicals being used on patrons, Jemma was there to identify symptoms. She couldn't get lost in the scene.

She drew Barton's trousers down, leaving his underpants where they were, and pushed him forward so that she had a clear path. Then she stood up, stroked the riding crop along the pale skin, and brought it down with a smack. Barton gasped, and Jemma admired the red line.

"You mark so beautifully, sweetheart," she said. She hit the backs of his thighs again. This time, he moaned. "I do love those sounds. Don't hold back."

"Yes, mistress," he said breathlessly.

After half a dozen or so more slaps, Jemma returned the crop and then rubbed the marks. They were fading already, and she praised him for being so good, talking lowly into their comms. Half the words were names of people she'd identified, and descriptions of some strangers who may have already been drugged. Wealthier-looking patrons, which made sense. But they weren't done yet, nowhere near.

"Want to use your safeword yet, darling?" she asked, kneeling behind Barton and stroking his chin.

"No, mistress. Keep going. Please."

Jemma untied his wrists, then pushed him back on his behind. There was a hook she hadn't noticed before, so she tied his wrists above his head. She stroked up and down those strong arms, and hoped she wasn't drooling again, metaphorically or otherwise.

"Please, mistress," Barton said. His trousers were still down around his knees; for all that they looked painted on, they were remarkably easy to move, which was probably the idea.

"Let me know if your arms get sore, sweetheart," she said, and she kissed him on the nose. His eyes were soft as he looked up at her.

"Yes, mistress," he replied.

"Good boy. Such a good boy." He whimpered, and lifted his hips. "Soon, baby, soon. You can be patient, can't you? You can stay still for me?"

"Y-yes."

"Yes what?"

He swallowed. "I'm sorry. Yes, mistress."

She smiled, trailing a finger down his shirt. She glanced at him, seeking permission. He nodded, and she rubbed between his legs. He groaned, hips almost jerking, but he held them back.

"Good boy," she repeated. "What a good boy you are. I think you deserve a treat. One moment."

Barton whined as she walked away. She smirked at a few people who'd been watching them, and scanned the room before she turned to one of the panels. She pretended to be murmuring to herself, all the while passing on more information to May, Bobbi, and Hunter. It was hard to forget that they were in her ear when she heard them talking occasionally.

"Oh, I like these," she said, hiding a couple of things in her hand. She sauntered back to Barton, feeling freer than she usually did in public. She straddled his lap and worked his shirt open, laving his neck and whispering more intel, this time about the drugs she thought she had seen under a grate beneath the handcuffs. There was a slot with a dollar sign on it, probably to pay for them.

"What do you like, mistress?" Barton asked.

"These," she said, revealing the nipple clamps. His eyes darkened further, and he whimpered as she attached them. "Do they hurt?"

"Tighter," he begged.

"Like that?"

"Yes." He exhaled. "Thank you, mistress."

"Anything for you." She kissed him gently, before grinding down on him. His hips bucked again in reaction, and she knelt up. "Bad boy!"

"I'm sorry, mistress!"

"What do you intend to do to make up for it?"

"Anything, mistress."

"Who's in charge here?"

"You are, mistress."

"What did you do wrong?"

"I didn't stay still, l-like you told me to," he said, his eyes wide.

"That's right. I don't know whether I should be merciful or not, since this is our first time."

"Please, mistress. I'll do anything."

"Will you, just? Mmm." She lowered herself onto his lap again. "Stay perfectly still, and I _may _let you come."

"Thank you, mistress."

"And stay quiet. You know how to be silent, don't you, baby?" He didn't reply. "Good boy. That's much better." She stroked a thumb up the centre of his throat. "Like a statue, until I say so."

Jemma teased Barton for a little while, half-listening to the plans for a raid going on over the comm. unit. At one point, Barton's eyes flicked towards the panel, and she looked in the dark of the windowpane to watch as a man slid something which looked like a credit card into part of the panel, and pulled out a small bag of what looked like cocaine.

"I think you're doing very well," she murmured to Barton. His eyes moved back to her, and she noticed him swallow. "I think it's time for a reward." She stroked the thumb and index finger of her left hand up the sides of his throat, and squeezed her hand gently. "You can come now."

* * *

The raid hit soon after. Clint straightened his clothes while Simmons brushed her dress down into place, and they waited in the shadows while those nearest to them fled, or tried to. He wondered why his soulmate's cheeks were so pink.

That's right. She was his soulmate. He grinned, and turned her to face him.

"I know we got caught up in the scene," he said. "I guess I should introduce myself. Clint Barton."

"Jemma Simmons," she said, shaking his hand. "Lovely to meet you. Finally."

He laughed. "We haven't had an opportunity before this, have we?"

"I'm sorry my words may have given you nightmares."

"Not to worry," he said. "What did your parents think of your words as you grew up?"

"I tried to make it look as though I couldn't even spell BDSM. Gave them less reason to worry about me."

"You work for SHIELD, and that's the part of your life they'd worry about?"

She glared at him, but it lacked heat. "I'm sorry about what happened."

"In case you couldn't tell, I had fun."

"Was I too distracting?"

"A bit, but I was here to guard you. Since I was so focused on you, that wasn't really a problem. I was impressed that you kept your head the way you did."

She flushed. "Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you."

"Would you like to… get a drink with me?"

Coulson interrupted them in his usual dry voice.

"You have a debriefing to attend," he said. "Of the work kind."

Clint swore as May chivvied them out of the nook, and he climbed into the van beside Simmons on the ride back to New SHIELD base.

His mind kept returning to the scene. He knew that he hadn't been kept on edge long, and that part of him was always on the lookout for danger towards his soulmate. He wished that they could've had longer together, with no distractions. It almost felt like it hadn't happened at all, if it wasn't for the lingering itch at the back of his thighs and the damp spot between his legs. He could feel the phantom ache of the clamps, but nothing in his arms. She knew what she was doing, that's for sure.

"Agent Barton?" There was something on his leg. "Please look at me."

"Hmm?"

"Here!" The sharp voice brought him back from the land of fantasy, and he saw Simmons' concerned face.

"Yes, mistress?" he said automatically. Her eyebrows drew together, and he realised that the car had stopped. He climbed out after her, and went willingly when she began to drag him away from the others.

"Simmons!" Coulson called. "Debriefing now."

"No, sir," she replied.

"What?"

She whirled around and glared at their boss. "He's not focusing. He may be in sub-space. I need to take care of him."

"Uh—"

"I don't want him dropping!" she snapped.

Coulson blinked. "I'm sure you know what you're doing."

"Thank you," she said. With that vague permission, she kept leading Clint through the base until they stopped outside a room. She opened the door, and he saw a bed. Her bedroom, then. She ushered him inside, and he waited for further instruction. "Kneel down."

He obeyed, and she stroked her hair.

"Good boy, Clint," she said.

* * *

**I've never written a BDSM scene before. (I'm pretty sure that's something I'd remember.) The fact that it was in the middle of a mission is why it might not be terribly accurate, before someone starts criticising. Gah! I did my best. I researched beforehand, but, as I said, middle of a mission. Jemma had to adapt the scene according to circumstances.**

**Um… review? Advice would be great for future ventures. *Head-desk* Took the idea of pining!Domme from a prompt on the kink meme, page 18, round 26.**


	42. World of Snark (JBBxSxTS, JSxSR)

"World of Snark"

Steve knew who Bucky's soulmate was before he even introduced them. Not that he chose to warn either; much more entertaining to see it unfold.

"Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes," he said. Bucky opened his mouth, but Tony interrupted him, his eyes fixed on the metal arm.

"I really wanna play with that," he said. Bucky froze, and Tony seemed to remember his social obligations. Steve was trying to contain his laughter as the billionaire smiled winningly. Bucky's jaw worked for a few moments.

"I think we should get to know each other first, don't you think?" he finally said.

The priceless look of shock on Tony's face had Steve cracking up. He grabbed onto Sam's arm and almost cried tears of laughter into his shoulder, all the while trying to catch his breath in a way he hadn't had to for years.

"I'm guessin' they're soulmates," Sam said dryly.

"Yup," Steve said, straightening up and wiping his cheeks as he turned to face Bucky and Tony, who were staring at each other open-mouthed. Then Bucky glared at Steve.

"You knew all along," he said.

"We were all talking about soulmarks one night, so I knew both of Tony's. When we brought you in to medical, I saw one with the exact same words on you. Whoever your third is, you're gonna meet them at the same time."

"Huh." They were still holding hands, and Tony didn't seem ready to let go. "Well, I was talking about your arm, but I'm open for anything."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Anything? That's a lot of possibilities. I mean, would you be open to…?" Then he whispered something in Tony's ear. The billionaire's eyes widened, and Steve wished that he didn't have super-hearing, because he never wanted to hear his best friend say that to Howard's son. Ever.

"Um…" Tony seemed at a loss. "Y-yeah. I could be open for that. You know, literally as well."

"I got that."

"…Yeah. We're gonna go now."

"Take me out for dinner first?"

"Are you kidding? You'll need the energy, soldier. You can show me just how good that famous super soldier stamina is."

* * *

Even superheroes and SHIELD agents have to shop sometime, especially when it's too dangerous to have food delivered (more so if it's to a secret hideout). In a world of battles between good and evil, where the Avengers and SHIELD had fought alongside before, it would have been natural for Phil Coulson's team to meet the Avengers while fighting some Big Bad together.

But no. Fate decided to have a bit of fun, and force them to meet while out shopping. At least that's how Jemma intended to explain it in the report she somehow knew she would have to write for the director.

She and Skye were doing grocery shopping, and arguing over name brands versus home brands.

"We have our instructions," Jemma said. "We have to buy in bulk, remember?"

"But think about the little companies," Skye said, holding up a can of tuna. "They're in business for decades, pay their workers a fair wage, and because of the economy they're being put out of business by the huge corporations who make discount food off the backs of slaves!"

"I understand your feelings, Skye, but one, please don't make the floors shake, we're surrounded by packed shelves; and two, many people can't afford to pay for brand names. At least the big companies are making it easier for the average household to stay afloat, especially for large families with only one wage-earner. And what about single parents?"

She was aware that their argument had drawn a few eyes, but most people moved on. It took awhile to register a few men nearby who were watching them. But Skye was on a roll.

"The point is that we should be supporting the brand names whenever we can—"

"And we _do_," Jemma said. "When there aren't many options and the prices aren't too different. We only have a few home brand items in here." She gestured to the large amount of groceries in the trolley.

"We shouldn't be getting _any_—"

"We have a budget, Skye!"

"Please, we can afford to—"

"No, we _can't_," Jemma hissed. "The director's trying to recruit more people, but where does the money come from? The people who used to support us aren't anymore. I have no idea how he's funding the organisation, but I doubt it's an unlimited resource. Which means that, no matter how much you protest, we _can't_ afford to spend any more money than absolutely necessary. I won't put that burden on him, not when he's only trying to make the world a safer place."

"Oh." Skye handed the tin back to Jemma, who turned to put it back on the shelf. She bumped into a man standing there, and gasped. He caught the tin before it could hit the floor.

"Is there a problem, miss?" he asked. She sighed.

"Nothing we can trouble you with," she said, and she placed the tuna back. Then her eyebrows scrunched together, and she looked up at the stranger. He'd said her words. "Oh?"

"Well, hello," he said, smiling widely. "I wondered when I'd find you."

"H-hello."

"I'm Steve." He held out his hand, and she shook it.

"Jemma," she said. "That's… that's my name. I'm Jemma." Skye snickered, and Jemma glared at her over her shoulder. "Stop it!"

"I'll keep going with the list," Skye said, waving the piece of paper.

"No! We have to stick together."

"I-if you give me your phone number, I could call you at a better time," Steve said. She smiled sadly at him.

"Not an option, I'm afraid," she said.

"Do you need help with your shopping? I can carry your things to the car for you."

"Yes, you certainly could," she mused softly, touching the muscles visible under his sleeves. She blushed at his look of amusement. "I'm so sorry. I'm a doctor. It's… purely professional admiration, I assure you."

"Of course," he said, eyes twinkling. "Can I come along anyway?"

"I-if you like. I'm afraid it might be terribly boring."

"I don't think I could ever be bored with you." Her jaw dropped at the way his gaze dropped down his body. He soon noticed it. "Now it's my turn to apologise. You're just so pretty, I couldn't help…"

"That's very flattering," Jemma said, ducking her head. "You can come with us, if you like. I'm sure Skye won't mind."

"Not at all," Skye said, who was slowly moving further down the aisle.

"Skye!" She tugged Steve along behind her. He chuckled. "Wait for us."

"Leaving us behind?" a man in a hoodie asked, catching up to them. Steve grinned at him, and the other man who joined them.

"I found my soulmate," he said. Jemma waved at them nervously, wondering why the one with the goatee looked familiar. "Her name's Jemma. She's a doctor."

"Of what?" Goatee asked.

"I mainly work in bio-science. It's a fascinating field."

Skye looked over her shoulder at Steve. "She'll probably want to know what makes you a perfect physical specimen. Don't let her draw any of your blood to examine. She's like a vampire sometimes."

He smiled uncertainly. "I'll try not to."

"Skye, don't scare my soulmate!"

"You're not gonna start cracking _Twilight_ jokes, are you?" Hoodie said to Goatee as Skye stopped by the canned vegetables.

"Hey, if the opportunity's there."

"Which one of us would be Carlisle?"

"Depends on which of us has lived longer."

"Now that's a debate for the ages, _Grandpa_."

"Oh, we're gonna go there now, are we, Hiccup?"

"Stop it, you two," Steve said. Jemma watched them with wide eyes while Skye weighed up between two cans of crushed tomatoes.

"These'll do for tonight, I guess," she said, hauling a couple of large tins into the trolley. Jemma shuffled things around to make room for them.

"What in the world are you planning to make tonight?"

"Mack promised us a risotto. He said there'll be plenty of leftovers, as long as we refrigerate everything. Ooh, should we get more plastic boxes for storage?"

Jemma chewed her bottom lip. "Might be a good idea."

Skye eyed the two men and Steve. "I really hope that's not a package deal."

"Don't be impolite, Skye."

"Your guy's great. At least he has to be, to be your soulmate."

"I'm just terribly lucky."

"Please don't take this the wrong way," Steve said quietly, "but if there's anything I can do to help. Extra groceries, whatever you need. I wouldn't say the sky's the limit, but I have some money I'm not using—"

"Hey, we're happy to help," Goatee piped up.

"Anything for Steve's girl," Hoodie said.

"Is that the name of a song?"

"I don't know. You know popular music better than I do."

"Uh, no. I know rock, not those pop ballads the twinks are singing on _Glee_ and _Pop Idol_ these days."

"Please tell me you're not gonna add more tracks to my iTunes folder? It's gonna have more stuff on it than there are movies in your collection."

"You love my movie collection."

"I worry about your tastes."

"What does that say about you being my soulmate?"

"That I worry about _my_ tastes even more."

"Asshole."

"Later, sweetheart."

With a frustrated groan, Skye spun around and narrowed her eyes at them.

"Tune in after the break for more 'World of Snark'," she said. Then she looked at Jemma. "I'm gonna find out which aisle has the food storage."

"Wait, you didn't just say that," Goatee said, staring at Skye.

"I think she did," Hoodie said, and he looked at her as well. "You did, didn't you?"

Skye's jaw dropped, and so did the shopping list. Jemma swiftly picked it up, glad that she hadn't been holding anything else.

"You're my soulmates," Skye said.

"I'm Bucky," Hoodie said, holding out his hand. Skye shook it, looking dazed.

"And I'm Tony," Goatee said, shaking her hand as well. Jemma realised why he looked familiar, and saw it dawn on Skye as well.

"Holy shit, my soulmates are T—"

Jemma got there first, clapping a hand over Skye's mouth.

"Shh!" she said. Skye mumbled something. "Is it safe for me to let go?" She nodded. "Alright."

"Your name's Skye?" Tony Bloody Stark said. "Nice. Got a last name for that?"

"Nope," Skye said. "Chose it, kept it. Better than the one the nuns gave me."

"Much better," Jemma agreed. She looked at Steve. "Your surname is Rogers, isn't it?"

"Yes," he said, scratching the back of his head. "Which is why I hope you don't really want to draw my blood. If it got into the wrong hands…"

"Understood," she said. She grabbed onto the handle of the trolley for support. "Well. This certainly complicates things."

"What things?" Skye said, glancing at her. Jemma tried to give her a significant look, but it didn't register.

"Our…" The men were watching them too closely. "Do excuse us a moment." She grabbed Skye by the arm and, leaving the trolley under their supervision, led her away from their soulmates. "What about the director? They don't know that he's…"

"Alive?"

"Precisely. It's not exactly the kind of thing a person keeps from their soulmate, is it?"

"I guess not. But… but they're ours."

"I know that, Skye, but—"

"No, Jemma. What Coulson's doing is stupid. Noble, but stupid. You have to see that."

"Rebuilding SHIELD is not stupid. But the Avengers have publicly severed ties with us. They're only aligned with Stark Industries."

"They said they could help—"

"They probably thought it was for charity or something."

"Well… what do we tell them?"

"I don't know. You're the one who told me that I'm terrible at improvising."

"Which led to you shooting Sitwell, who turned out to be HYDRA all along, so good instincts there."

Jemma rolled her eyes. "We'll… think of something." She looked back over her shoulder to see the three men talking to each other, and glancing at them. She sighed heavily. "Let's just finish shopping, alright? You should text May. Now. Go and find the plastic boxes, and text May while you're there."

Skye nodded, and hurried to the end of the aisle. Jemma pasted on a smile and returned to the trolley. She grabbed onto the handle, the list crumpling in her hand, and tried to think of an excuse.

"You shot Jasper Sitwell?" Steve said. Jemma blinked. He pointed at the side of his head. "Super sense includes super-hearing."

"Well, fuck," she said unexpectedly. Steve's eyes widened, and Tony and Bucky started sniggering. "I mean, I did. Just with an ICER. It's like, uh—"

"I'm familiar with them."

She exhaled slowly. "Our friends were on a mission and no one would tell us about it because it was level eight. So Skye had me enter SHIELD and arrange it so that she could hack the records and find out where they were."

"A hacker?" Tony said. "Our soulmate's a hacker?"

"Why am I not surprised?" Bucky muttered.

"Agent Sitwell caught me, and I'm… a terrible liar, and I ended up shooting him when he realised I was talking to Skye, and then I had to drag him out of sight… He was fine later."

"I finished him off for you," Bucky said.

"So I heard."

"And what was, uh." Tony sobered. "What was this about Coulson?"

"Oh!" Oh dear. "Uh, our boss. His… name is Coulson."

"Phil Coulson?" Steve said.

She stared at him, swallowing. "Um…"

"Don't lie to me, Jemma."

There was the sound of running feet, and Skye pelted around the corner. She nearly ran into Jemma, and there were definitely no plastic boxes in sight.

"We've gotta go," she said quietly. "Now."

"What's the matter?"

"Ward and Agent Thirty-Three. Talking with a bunch of people, including Cal. I messaged the others about it."

"Ward's _here_?"

"Yes," Skye said through gritted teeth.

"And your f—"

"Yes. We have to go."

"But the shopping—"

"Now, Jemma!" She smiled at the others. "Sorry. Gotta run."

"But—" Steve tried to catch Jemma's arm, but she shrugged, and let Skye pull her away.

They got as far as the car park when it happened.

"Daisy!"

"Shit," Skye muttered. Her gun was out and in her hand before she took another breath, and Jemma wished she had more weapons training. She was a scientist, not a field agent!

"Daisy," Cal said.

"Go. The hell. Away."

"You'll see. They'll never accept you for who you are. You need to come with me."

"Skye gets plenty of support, from all of us," Jemma said. She didn't dare put a hand on Skye's shoulder, in case it threw her aim.

"I don't know what you think you're doing here, but if you've come after me, you've picked the wrong time," Skye said. Cal kept walking closer. Skye released the safety.

"You're my daughter, Daisy," he said.

"My name is _not_ Daisy, and you are _not_ my father!"

He smiled. "You called me Dad the last time we met."

"Because you were trying to kill Coulson! I had to distract you somehow!"

"Easy, Skye," Jemma whispered. "I can feel tremors in the ground."

"See?" Cal said, gesturing downwards. "You've already unlocked your powers. I couldn't be any prouder of my baby girl."

"You're insane," Skye said, shaking her head. "You're a _monster_!"

His smile slipped. Jemma raised her head when she heard the distinct sound of fighting coming from the supermarket.

"I don't like the sound of that," she said. "It sounds very expensive."

"Sounds like we need to get out of here before we're implicated," Skye said. "I'm not dealing with any of this right now."

"But our soulmates—"

"Can look after themselves."

Skye squeezed the trigger and Cal went down.

"Just an ICER," she reassured Jemma.

"I'm so glad to hear it."

"We'll have to do another grocery run later."

"Second that. Let's get the car, shall we?"

"Yeah."

* * *

Phil was banging his head on the desk when the girls showed up. He glared at them.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Didn't May read you the text I sent?" Skye said.

"Why was there a brawl in the store after you run out of there?"

"I don't know! One of the guys must've worked out who we were running from and decided to do something about it."

"Who shot…?"

"I shot Cal."

Phil nodded, sighing. "Okay. Stark's paying for the damage, which is good."

"Well, we weren't involved in the fight," Simmons said. "That started while we were outside."

"And why, when Fitz called your phone, didn't you answer?"

Her eyes widened, and she felt her pockets.

"It was… it was resting in a holder on the trolley," she said. "So I could get at it quickly. Then Skye dragged me out of there. I must have left it behind."

"Well, that would explain why Steve Rogers was the one who answered."

She winced. "He _is_ my soulmate," she said.

"_He's_ your soulmate?"

"You didn't specify?" she asked Skye.

"Hey, I was kind of distracted by the fact that _Ward and Cal_ were there. I'm impressed I even managed to remember to say that we'd met our soulmates."

"I hate to ask who yours are," Phil said.

"…Tony Stark and Bucky Barnes."

"Oh my God." He buried his face in his hands. "This isn't happening. I'm just hallucinating the whole thing. It's a dream. No, a nightmare. I'll wake up in twenty minutes and everything will be fine."

"Sir," Simmons said.

"Whatever you say next, is it going to make me feel any better?"

"It's… a question, actually. How do I get my phone back?"

"Okay, put it this way," Phil said, pointing at her. "Fitz called him. Tony Stark was there. There's no point in abandoning base because it would take too long. If I know Stark, he'll have already hacked the phone, traced it, and they'll be on their way as soon as they've given their reports to the police. I'd avoid it if I could, but since they're under the impression that I'm alive, I have to be here."

"That's my fault," Skye said, waving a little. "I was the one who mentioned your name."

"But I'd forgotten about Steve's super-hearing," Simmons said. "And I couldn't lie to him. Not that I confirmed anything… certainly not that it was _you_…"

"Please stop. Just… When they get here, let me talk to them without you. It's my responsibility to explain everything to Stark and Rogers. God knows the Avengers have enough trust issues between them. I hate to add to that, especially Barton and Romanov, but it seems I have no choice."

"Well, you did promise Sif that you would tell Thor."

"Thank you for reminding me, Simmons," he said snippily.

"You're welcome, sir. Oh. That was sarcasm, wasn't it?"

He pointed to the door, and the girls filed out. Then he returned to thumping his head on the desktop.

* * *

Mack stared as the truck parked outside the base. He exchanged looks with the Koenig brothers, who immediately reported it to Coulson. He strode up, and encountered Tony friggin' Stark sauntering around the side of the truck.

"Which one of the crew are you?" Stark said.

"I'm Mack… the mechanic?"

"I'm looking for the head of operations here. And Skye. Where is she?"

"Wait, so it's true? You and Barnes are her soulmates."

"Yep!" called a guy with a metal arm. He waved as he and goddamn Captain America opened the back of the truck.

"Skye and her friend—"

"Jemma," Rogers said.

"They left some things behind," Stark continued, spreading his hands. "So we brought stuff. Plus this." He held out Simmons' phone. Mack accepted it, and cleared his throat.

"Sam's just letting Director Coulson know," Billy said, jerking his thumb towards the office. "I think the director wanted to see you. But you'll need lanyards first, _and_ we're going to have to scan the delivery."

"Who is this guy?" Stark said, looking over his sunglasses. Why was he wearing shades at this time of day?

"One of our heads of security," Mack said. "I'm sure it'll be fine, Billy."

"But—"

"Simmons' and Skye's soulmates?"

"That doesn't exclude them from needing lanyards."

"Okay," Rogers said, carrying four bags in each hand. "Whatever the procedure is, we'll follow it. Where can we put these for the time being?"

"Uh…" Billy looked confused. "Over here, I guess."

Once the ton of groceries was sitting in an out-of-the-way corner, Mack called for Skye and Simmons to join them. They both walked up to their soulmates shyly.

"Hello," Simmons said. Mack coughed, and handed over her phone. "Oh, yes. Thank you for bringing this back."

"We also brought supplies," Rogers said, pointing towards the bags of food. Her eyes widened comically.

"That's… quite a lot," she said.

"Nothing but the best for the soulmates of Avengers," Stark said. He already had an arm around Skye, and Bucky was on her other side, talking to her softly. She was smiling up at him, and Simmons took hold of Rogers' hands. It was sweet to see them so content.

"You dropped your list, so it was easy to work out what you needed," Rogers said.

"And what you wanted, even though you'd rubbed `em off the list," Barnes added.

"We've gotta have a long talk with your boss," Stark said, and he kissed Skye on the cheek. When she turned her head, he got her again on the lips. "Then maybe we can have a long talk with you. Or something." He eyed her up and down, and Mack drew himself up, feeling protective.

"You're gonna treat these girls with respect," he said. Yeah, Stark had his money, Barnes had a metal arm, and Rogers was a freaking super soldier, but no one was gonna hurt anyone on Mack's team.

Stark looked him over. "You're taller than Cap. Hell, I think you're taller than Thor. Don't worry… what was it, Mack?" He nodded shortly. "Nothing but honourable intentions with Skye. And Captain Boy Scout will be the soul of integrity as well."

"I'm sure not gonna jump straight into bonding when you don't know anything about me," Skye said. "The guy I shot today? My dad? He's insane. And my mom passed some kind of super powers down to me which he wants to help me with, but I'm not letting him anywhere near me. Plus, Ward's my creepy stalker of an ex-almost-boyfriend."

"He's gone into custody, along with the other people you were avoiding yesterday," Rogers said, pulling Simmons into his arms. She let him, but then she _did _have a thing for buff men.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"I think Coulson will want to get talking with you over and done with as soon as possible," Skye said. "As long as he's done denting the desk with his head."

* * *

**Alas, poor desk. I knew it, Horatio.**

…**Or something. It's getting late, and author needs to proofread.**

**Bucky/Skye/Tony requested by kogouma. Somewhere along the way stuff happened, and the chapter became longer, and there was fighting and food delivery and furniture abuse… Yeah. I don't know what went on there.**

**Please review!**


	43. The Deceit Was Mine (Brock x femSteve)

**Note: in this, fem!Steve and Brock have never met. Not until the elevator scene, which changes things. Sorry about another long chapter. The plot wouldn't stop!**

"The Deceit Was Mine"

Stella was grinding her teeth as she travelled down in the elevator alone and tried not to crush the railing in her hands. She was tempted to put a fist through the glass, but that wasn't a good idea this high up. Not a good idea at all, really; the techs had enough problems without her adding to them. She hunched her shoulders, the shield hopefully disguising her bad posture. Her ma would've threatened her with a wooden ruler down the back of her shirt.

Before the doors could slide closed, they pinged open again. She noticed a man lowering his hand from between them, staring at him in the glass of the elevator, and watched another man follow him, then two more. She'd seen them around, of course, and the first man was terribly handsome. She usually didn't let such thoughts get to her, but the first time she'd noticed him around SHIELD she'd given him a definite second look. Then Natasha teased her about it with an arched eyebrow, and Stella had cleared her throat and tried not to blush. Sometimes she didn't have control over her own body.

She stood with her back to the glass now, watching the four men conferring. The first one looked at her over his shoulder. The fact that she was the only woman there reminded her that, no matter how much she'd done as Captain America during the war, it was still a patriarchal society. If it wasn't the soldiers – with the exception of Bucky and the Howling Commandoes – it was now SHIELD. Led by Nick Fury… well, it used to be. Now Secretary Pierce was pissing her off. She met the first man's eyes, and smiled bitterly.

"Don't you just hate men sometimes?" she said. The other men glanced at him, but he just cocked his head with a small smile.

"Can't afford to, since I work with them," he said.

Stella's jaw dropped, she was ashamed to admit. He stepped closer to her and held out a hand. She went to shake it, which he allowed, before kissing the back of her hand. She tried to take it as the actions of a gentleman, not a condescending reminder that she wasn't 'one of the guys'.

"H-hello," she said. He squeezed her hand as he lowered it, and didn't let go.

"I'm Brock Rumlow," he said.

"I'm Stella Rogers."

"Yeah, I got that," he said, his eyes travelling down her outfit. Her breath caught, and she ducked her head.

"Sorry," she said. "I forgot I was still wearing this."

"And the shield, but I'm not sorry at all," he said. "I'm damn lucky. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen is my soulmate?"

"Not the most…" She cleared her throat. "I'm not like one of those pin-up girls. Not… curvy or anything."

"You're gorgeous," he said, moving another step closer.

"I've heard of you. You're on the STRIKE team."

"He's the leader," one of the other men said.

"Just like you're the head of your own team," Brock said.

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. A few more guys entered the lift, two of them holding briefcases. She felt her soulmate tense, and then he led her out. They gave him strange looks, but he shook his head. He looked back at the original group, and Stella watched the interaction with interest.

"Rollins, you'll tell…?" he said. One of the men nodded.

"You'll catch up with us later?" he asked. Brock met Stella's eyes.

"I'll let you know," he said.

"Roger that, sir."

"Come on," Brock said, and he tugged her along the corridor. He checked a few rooms before they found one which was unoccupied, then pulled her inside. He closed the door, and Stella backed into the meeting table. She leaned back, holding the edge of it as she watched him.

"I'm guessing you wanted to talk to me?" she said.

"We've never met before," he said with a shrug. "I'd like to know how much the biographies about Captain America got wrong."

She laughed. "I've bought them all. They're kind of entertaining. I even created a list of most accurate to least accurate. The unofficial biographies are actually the closest to the truth."

"That's usually the case," Brock said. "It reminds me of the first _Men in Black_ film. Have you seen it?" She shook her head. "You should. It's about aliens. You have experience with those, I hear."

"What reminds you of it?" she asked.

"There's a scene where Agent K buys the tabloid papers, and Agent J questions it. K says that the tabloids are the most accurate because the conspiracy theories are true, at least that's the implication."

"I think I'm going to have to see this movie."

"I have it on DVD." Stella was slowly moving down the length of the table, feeling a bit overwhelmed being alone in a room with her very handsome soulmate. "You should come over to my place sometime."

She almost said 'Or you could come to my place', but held it back.

"So you like films about aliens?" she said. She knew that he was following her. She paused at the end of the table, now far from the door.

"It's weird, but I like films about secret agents, no matter what they're investigating," he said, a smile in his voice. "You think I'd be sick of it after work."

"And you'd think that I'd hate World War Two films, but I love movies like _Stage Door Canteen_. Have you seen it?"

"No, I haven't."

"I have it on DVD." She turned to face him, and nearly gasped when she realised how close he was. He was a couple of inches taller than her, which was… nice. Not many man were taller than her; even Bucky and Peter were shorter than her after the serum. She knew she was likely to be stronger than Brock, but that didn't matter. And it was time to be brave. "Maybe you could come over to _my_ place sometime?"

He eyes flicked down to her lips. "That'd be great, Stella. Only when you're ready."

"I'll try to be ready for that… as soon as possible." She wanted to lean in and steal a kiss for herself, but she didn't want to seem too forward or send mixed messages. No matter how much she was tempted.

"I don't want to rush you."

"Brock…"

"Please don't hit me for asking this," he said, and he licked his lips.

"Ask away," Stella said, leaning back against the table again and planting her hands on the surface. His eyes ran over her body, and she flushed at the indecorous position. Before she could straighten, he was right in front of her, sliding his hands from her shoulders, down her arms, to rest over her hands. He entwined their fingers together, and Stella hoped he couldn't hear her pounding heart. He was so close.

"How much experience do you have?"

"Oh," she said. "I…"

"Don't answer if you don't want to."

"No, no. You have a right to know." She breathed out slowly. "I wasn't born with a soulmark. I found one after I woke up from the ice. SHIELD cut me out of my suit, but it was cold enough for me to be wearing other clothes under it, which they didn't remove, so… so the doctors have never seen it. No one has. I don't need to go to medical because I heal so quickly."

"It won't stop me worrying about you when you're on missions," Brock said, rubbing the skin between her fingers. It tickled.

"That's sweet," she said. "The thing… the thing is that… I thought I'd die during the war because I didn't have a mark. Bucky didn't have a mark, either, so we… One night, only a couple before he died," she hung her head at the harrowing memory, "we… were together. Didn't want to die a virgin." She laughed softly. "Half of me wishes I'd waited for my soulmate, but I can't regret it. I don't know how experienced Bucky was, but I don't mind being his last. So, to answer your question." She met his sympathetic eyes, and her heart clenched. "Once with Bucky. And a couple of kisses. That's… the sum total of my experience."

"Thank you for sharing that with me, Stella," he said. "It means a lot."

"You're my soulmate, Brock," she said. "I don't wanna keep anything from you."

He lifted his hands, and removed the band from his right arm. Along the underside were her first words to him. She smiled as she traced them, and glanced up to see him smiling at her. There was something a little wicked about it, and she dropped her hand, suddenly nervous. He was going to ask her…

"Where are your words?"

She paused, then pushed him back a step. Then she placed her shield on the table and unzipped the upper half of her costume. She wasn't wearing a shirt underneath; only a bra. Then she turned her back so he could see his words running diagonally across her back to her right shoulder. His ran a finger up as far as he could, before it hit the strap.

"If you want to…" She swallowed, her body tingling and cheeks hot. "You can… undo it. If." She grinned over her shoulder, noting his stunned expression. "You can do it up again afterwards."

"How hard can it be?" he said, undoing the clasp. She clenched her fists on the tabletop, finding it difficult to breathe as his warm hand stroked along the words. He rested his hand on her right shoulder, then leaned down and kissed the skin of her left. She exhaled in a rush, and he backed off. "Sorry. That was…"

"It was fine, Brock," she said. At least her voice stayed at an even pitch. "Aren't you going to do the clasp back up?"

He managed it well, and it touched her that he averted his eyes as she righted her clothes.

"You can… you can kiss me," she said. "Properly. If you want to."

"I'm sure as hell not gonna say no," he said, pulling her close by the hips. He wrapped his right arm around her back, pressing where their soulmarks would meet, and leaned his head down. Stella tilted hers, and their lips almost met. Then a phone rang. Brock sighed.

"Of course," he muttered. He pulled out his cell phone and checked the display. "I've gotta take this."

"Raincheck?"

"I'll be back in a minute." He stroked her cheek. "Stay here, beautiful."

* * *

Brock answered the call just as he was opening the door.

"Wait a minute," he said. He shut the door, then walked down the corridor so that he was out of earshot. "What is it, Rollins?"

"I told Pierce that Rogers is your soulmate."

"What'd he say?"

"That you're a lucky son of a bitch," Brock chuckled, "and that he wants to see you as soon as possible. New plan. He's willing to delay Project Insight for however long you need to break her heart. He said to have your fun with her, first. If you think she can be brought to our side—"

"I doubt it. She fought the Red Skull herself."

"_Fate's_ on our side, that's for fucking sure. Giving you, of all people, Captain America."

"I'm doubly lucky," Brock said.

"Aw, don't go all sappy on us, boss," Rollins said.

"Just enough for her to believe it."

"Don't overdo it, or she'll get suspicious."

"Please. The paragon of virtue and all that's good about America?" He snorted. "She'll never suspect an agent of HYDRA to be her soulmate."

"Visit Pierce. He'll want reports, but he'll probably let you do whatever you want to her."

"I've got some ideas." Those strong legs pulling him deeper, Rogers giving him the impression of being able to hold her down. Maybe even using those magnetic cuffs to keep her pinned and let him take whatever he wanted. That blonde hair spread over his pillow as he dragged more delicious sounds out of her. He wondered how she tasted. He wondered how quickly she could learn to suppress her gag reflex, if she even had one.

"Focus," Rollins said sharply. "Seduce her, and when she's in love with you, break her heart. Do it quick."

"Shouldn't be too hard. Of course, it would've helped if you didn't call when I was about to _kiss her_."

"Pierce is giving you the rest of the day off. As long as you need to complete your new mission. Hail HYDRA."

"Hail HYDRA," Brock murmured, glancing around to make sure he wasn't heard. He hung up, then hurried back to the room. No sense in keeping Stella waiting. He sneaked back in, and saw her still leaning where he'd left her, the shield resting on the table behind her. She looked up at him and smiled sweetly.

"I missed you," she said. "A problem, or do your men miss you, too?"

"Rollins got me the day off so I can be with you," he said. "I think it's procedure."

"Well, neither of us have ever had the opportunity to find out," she said.

"Now, where were we?" he asked, stepping close to her. She let him press her against the table, and he tilted her chin up when she looked down. "Don't do that, Stella."

"Have you kissed many girls?"

"Yeah," he said. "But then your era was a lot different."

"Not that much," she said, meeting his eyes from beneath her lashes. "Then again, I was in a war. Not many people waiting around. I just worry that I won't be any good."

"You couldn't possibly be bad," he said. Her shyness would be easy to exploit. "Just let me show you."

He cupped her face and brushed their noses together, before meeting her lips. He'd seen some old movies; he knew that kissing on screen was a lot tamer than it was now. As his mom once said, these days it was 'open slather'. He nearly crashed the car laughing.

"More," Stella whispered. Her eyes had slid shut. "Please, Brock."

He obliged, fighting arousal as he coaxed her mouth open and dived in. She clutched his shoulders – she _had _to be holding back – and mimicked the movements of his tongue. He didn't know whether she was naturally a quick learner, or whether the serum had brought that on. But she wasn't the only one moaning softly by the time they broke apart for breath. He rested their foreheads together.

"Told you so," he said. She laughed quietly.

"Thank you," she said. "Can I… ask you out for coffee?"

"Of course," he said, grinning at her. "Ask away."

She rolled her eyes. "Want to get coffee with me?"

"I haven't got any plans," he teased.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes, Stella. I'll get coffee with you."

He discovered her wicked sense of humour as they drank at a café down the road. He chortled as she described a pillow fight in her unit while they were stationed in England, her hands waving around between using packets of sugar and the salt and pepper shakers to show everyone's positions during the fight. Did the charisma come with the serum? From the USO performances? Or was she always this talented at story-telling? It was almost spell-binding, and he couldn't stop grinning. Not until she sobered, and then stared out the window.

"I miss them," she said. He rested his hands over hers.

"You'll never forget," he said. "That's what's important."

Her eyes were sad as she looked at him. "I didn't trust him, but I had some respect for Nick Fury. He had his secrets, didn't tell me any of them, not even at the end. But then I guess he had other things on his mind." She snorted delicately. "Like trying not to die. For all the good it did him."

"You don't have to tell me," Brock said. "I want you to smile."

"No, no, it's okay," she said. "He… he told me not to trust anyone. I thought maybe he left something behind, but I've searched my apartment. Unless SHIELD got there first and found something. Nothing where he died, nothing where he was sitting when I got there. He had the music playing, so I checked there, but again, nothing. I've searched everywhere, but he was injured; he couldn't have gotten far." She fell silent, and he squeezed her hands gently.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I keep losing everyone important to me," she said, her voice sounding choked. He studied her face.

"You won't lose me, if I can help it," he said.

"Do you promise?" She looked him dead in the eye. They both knew it was an unrealistic request, especially if she was effectively immortal; but she was looking for reassurance, so he nodded.

"I promise," he said.

"Will you take me home?" she asked.

"Do you really wanna go there so soon after…?"

"I didn't mean my apartment," she said, her cheeks turning pink. "Home… with you. I guess since you're my soulmate… home is wherever you are."

That was useful.

"Is there anything you want to bring with you?" Did she want an overnight bag? Stella's lips parted, catching the hidden question, and she nodded.

"By way of the hospital," she said. "I just wanna see whether they maybe found anything in Fury's effects. Even an object which looks innocent could have meaning. Maybe he took something from my place that I wouldn't ordinarily notice? I don't know."

"Whatever you want," he said. "Hospital first, or your place?"

"Hospital. Better not waste any time."

* * *

Brock was hanging around down one end of the corridor while Stella went to the vending machine to get snacks for them – for energy, she said, which made him smirk internally – when he noticed a redhead in a hoodie talk to Stella. It was Natasha Romanov. Whatever she said made Stella scowl, and drag her into another room. She glanced at Brock and held up a finger, saying 'One minute'. He nodded. As soon as the women closed the door behind them, he crept to the door and listened to their conversation.

"Stop lying!"

"I only act like I know everything, Rogers."

"I bet you knew Fury hired the pirates, didn't you?"

"Well, it makes sense. The ship was dirty, Fury needed a way in, so do you."

"I'm not gonna ask again."

Romanov revealed that it was the 'ghost', the Winter Soldier, who killed Fury. Brock wished he could see what was going on, but he was glad that Romanov was dismissing it as a ghost story. When it sounded like the conversation was winding down, he retreated to the end of the corridor where Stella had left him. He continued to loiter there until the door opened again, and then he straightened. Romanov frowned at him, and Stella whispered something to her. She nodded, then Romanov walked off. Stella shrugged at Brock, and returned to his side. She held out the candy bars she'd bought.

"I hope you like `em," she said.

"Got no allergies, and I never say no to candy. But it's ladies' choice."

She looked down at them. "They're exactly the same, Brock."

"I know. Still your choice."

Stella smiled and handed him one. They both nibbled on their chocolate bars as they wandered back downstairs.

"Nothing in Fury's effects?" Brock asked. She shook her head.

"`Fraid not," she said. "If there was, I didn't see it. Sure wasn't anything of mine."

"That what got you down?"

"No. More like a… a reopening of old wounds." She leaned against him, and he snaked an arm around her waist.

"I'm here for you, Stella."

"Did you know that's why there's a star on my shield?" she said out of nowhere.

"I thought that was because of the stars and stripes."

"It did make it easier for the artists to only have one star to deal with," she admitted. "But it's because my name means 'star'. That's what Peter told me."

"Peter?"

"Peter Carter. Sort of my temporary sweetheart. He had a soulmate, but we were drawn to each other from the start. My last kiss before I crashed the _Valkyrie_."

"Wow, I'm feelin' jealous," Brock said, raising his eyebrows. She poked him.

"Hey, you're my soulmate," she said. "My loyalty's to you."

"Is it?"

"Yeah."

"Not to SHIELD?"

"I don't trust SHIELD."

"You shouldn't," he said earnestly. He climbed onto Stella's motorbike behind her, and held on. She rested back against him for a moment, and he kissed the nape of her neck. This was going to be easy. "Don't even trust me until you know me better."

"How much better?" she asked, glancing back at him.

"You'll know when you can trust me," he said, stroking just beneath her breasts.

She kick-started the bike, and they drove off.

* * *

When they reached Brock's apartment, after Stella had hastily packed things for her overnight venture – and anything else she might need – and a stop at a pharmacy for 'supplies', Brock took the bag from her and placed it gently on the floor beside the sofa. Then he turned and wrapped his arms around her waist. She was starting to get used to the sweet little kisses he peppered over her face, and the less innocent ones he pressed on her neck. She shivered, clenched the material of his sleeves in her fists.

"If you start that now, I won't even get to see the rest of your apartment," she said, but she didn't push him away. Their faces were so close when he raised his head. She couldn't say that she felt vulnerable because he was just a little taller than her, but it gave the illusion that he could protect her if she needed it. That wouldn't happen, of course.

"What do you really need to see?" he said.

"The bathroom and kitchen, for a start," she said dryly. His lips curled in a smile, drawing her unwitting attention.

"Where'll the tour end?" he asked. She swallowed.

"It's up to you," she said, trembling in his arms. He frowned slightly, and held her close.

"You know I won't hurt you, Stella. You're my soulmate. I know you can take care of yourself, but it's our duty to look after each other."

"I want you to take me to bed," she blurted out, and then reddened. "But we'll get a bit distracted, I'm betting. So I want to see everything else first."

"Well, it's not a big place, so it won't take long," he said, and he led her through his apartment. She saw the kitchen, and he promised to make her dinner later, followed by his study, bathroom, and finally bedroom. They returned to the living room after that.

"It's pretty much the same as my apartment," Stella said, perched on the sofa beside him.

"This folds out," Brock said, patting the cushions. "If you'd prefer to…"

"I don't know," she said. "Um… maybe we could start with a movie?"

"Good thinking," he said, and he kissed her on the cheek. She was expecting something more intense from him, to be honest. It was surprising, how tender he was being. Anyone reasonable-minded woman could easily have her head turned by such behaviour.

"Should've thought of popcorn," she said.

"Pick a movie," he said, gesturing to his DVD shelf. "I've got some microwavable stuff somewhere, when I get enough time off for a marathon."

She pulled _Men in Black_ out, and placed it on the DVD player tray. She switched on the TV – the remotes were easy enough to work out – and sat back as the microwave dinged. Brock carried out a large bowl of popcorn as the menu loaded. He set the bowl between them, and Stella stole a piece with a cheeky grin. He returned it, and started the film.

"I hope you're not squeamish," he said. She opened her mouth to contradict him, and almost immediately realised that he was teasing her again. She threw a piece of popcorn at him, and he caught it in his mouth. She blinked in surprise.

"I'm sure you'll be happy enough to hold my hand during the scary parts," she said.

Eventually their sides were pressed together, bowl resting on their thighs, and Brock had an arm draped over her shoulders. She was resting her head against him, feeling extra warm where they were touching. She'd changed into plain clothes at her apartment, but her uniform was in the bottom of her overnight bag. Always good to be prepared.

"You're lovely," Brock murmured as the credits ran. Stella turned her head and met his lips. He set aside the bowl, empty but for some un-popped kernels, then wrapped a hand around the other side of her waist. She gasped as he sneaked it beneath her blouse and stroked her hot flesh.

"Please, Brock," she said.

"What do you want, Stella? Anything, just tell me."

"Something… which'd make us forget dinner. I have a high metabolism, so…"

"I just wanna eat you up," he said, ogling her again. "Or out, as the case may be."

"Out?"

His eyes darkened as he slid to the floor between her legs. He pushed her knees apart and stroked his hands up her inner thighs.

"Can I?" he asked. She nodded, and lifted her hips when he prompted. She'd already kicked off her shoes and socks, and was soon bare below the waist. Brock tugged her forward and lowered his head.

Stella cried out, slumping back as he brought her to the edge repeatedly until she was sobbing and begging for release.

"Come," he said, in a voice which could command entire squads. She hit her climax, and he drew it out until she was exhausted. It took a hell of a lot to tire her out.

"Wow," she said weakly. "That's dangerous. That tongue of yours. It's a real weapon."

"If that's how you react to oral, I'm gonna be wringin' screams outta you tonight."

"I don't know whether I can handle that, Brock."

"You will," he said, kneeling up and caressing her cheeks. "Because you're strong and brave, here to save the American Way." She couldn't help laughing as he continued to sing to her. "Who vows to fight like a dog for what's right night and day." He rubbed their noses together. "The Star Spangled Girl with a plan."

Stella kissed him to shut him up. Brock pulled her to her feet, never breaking the kiss, and touched the skin of her back. She became extremely aware of the fact that she was only half dressed, and twisted her head away from him. He nibbled her neck, and her eyes fluttered closed.

"B-Brock," she said. "Dinner?"

"What do you want?"

"Can I help you make it?"

"How domestic." He nuzzled behind her ear. "I keep my fridge and cupboards pretty well-stocked. Let's have a look."

* * *

She called him dangerous? Stella Rogers was the real danger. She didn't seem to realise that she was already showing trust towards him, cuddling up to him during the movie, leaving him alone with her bag, and not tensing at all when he wielded a knife while they made a basic roast meal.

"I'm a simple girl with simple tastes," she explained while the meat defrosted in the microwave and Brock chopped potatoes.

"In no way a simple girl," he said. "And you're a _woman_."

She was terrible at hiding her blushes. It became a game for him to see how often he could make her cheeks turn pink. It was a good look on her. Combined with her frequent doe eyes, he couldn't help liking her. She let him touch her more and more, relaxing when they finally sat down to their meal. He wasn't expecting her to want to pray first, but she did. During the meal, she hooked a foot around his right ankle. When he glanced at her, she gave him a look of innocence. It was obviously fake, at least obvious to him, and he winked. She fumbled with her fork, and he suppressed a chuckle.

The tables were turned on him when she strode around to his side and knelt down. He turned, confused, even more so when she touched his knees.

"Let me?" she said.

"Stella—"

"Don't you want me to?" Okay, he felt like a bit of a jerk, but it was true. He nodded, and she reached for his belt. "How hard can it be?"

He snickered. "It has to be hard, sweetheart. That's the _point_."

She smacked the inside of his knee, but it didn't sting. "Ass. But… I like that."

"You like that I'm an ass?"

"I like you calling me your sweetheart."

"Well, you are, aren't you?" he said, stroking her hair. "I sure hope so."

She smiled mysteriously, undoing his pants. He helped her shift them to his ankles, and saw her pause when she saw what she'd be working with.

"I won't think any less of you if you'd rather wait," he said. Her eyes narrowed at the challenge he hoped she didn't think he was implying.

"I'm hungry for dessert," she said. He'd almost forgotten how strong she was, until she pulled him forward by the hips like he was a teddy bear, not a grown man.

"Take it slow, Stella."

"I wanna be the best you've ever had."

"You will because you're my soulmate, and it's in your nature."

"And `cause I'm a fast learner. Or I try to be."

She hesitated, and then took him in her mouth. Brock settled his hand on her head, not directing, just keeping them both grounded. Stella began to suck right away, and Brock's eyes rolled back in his head. He groaned lowly, trying to keep his hips still, but it was damn hard. He had to call on his training to keep his head.

"So good, sweetheart," he said hoarsely. "That's right. Just… your tongue…"

She wrapped it around his length as she worked more of him into her mouth. He was amazed that she could hold most of him, but he stopped her when he touched the back of her throat and it constricted.

"No further," he said. "You're so good, Stella. So good." She suckled as she raised her head, and he nearly choked. "That's it. Just like that."

It took a shamefully short time, but it was a hell of a turn-on to see Captain America on her knees between his legs and sucking him off. He took a perverse satisfaction even as he combed his fingers through her hair and praised her.

"`Bout to come, sweetheart. If you wanna…"

But she stayed and swallowed him down. After that, he just had to kiss her. It tasted strange, but the surprise on her face made the whole thing worth it. He pulled her into his lap and cupped her ass. She pulled away, panting.

"I wanna shower before bed," she said. "And we have to do the dishes."

"That's what the dishwasher's for."

"You have one?"

"Just a drawer, since it's only me. If I have people over, it's usually for takeout."

"Sounds sensible," she said. "But when _we_ have company, we'll use dishes and cutlery."

"You wanna move in with me?" he asked, surprised. Shit. This was moving fast. She ducked her head.

"Things happened pretty quickly during the war," she said. "In my day, marriage would've come first. I know that isn't how it goes nowadays… How far ahead are you looking?"

"I'm no clairvoyant," he said, smiling ironically. "Wish we could look forward all the way to retirement, but that doesn't happen in our line of work, does it?"

Stella let him up so he could tuck himself in. Then she wrapped her arms around his torso and rested her chin on his shoulder. He pulled her close, again arranging his arm so that their soulmarks were separated only by clothing. Stella sighed contentedly.

"I know you're my soulmate, but I think I'd lo… I'd want you anyway."

Getting there. Brock smiled.

"I feel the same way, Stella," he said. "My sweetheart."

She held him tighter, and remained silent.

* * *

Stella insisted on separate showers. She waited in bed for Brock, shivering beneath the sheets. He was clearly expecting her to be in pyjamas or something when he entered the bedroom, because he dropped the towel he was using to dry his hair the minute she pushed the covers down to reveal bare skin. He visibly swallowed.

"Baby," he said, "you're sure about…"

"Bit late to turn back now," she said wryly. "Are _you_ sure? I've got more muscles than the average woman, and I know a lot of men don't find that attractive."

He unwrapped the towel from around his hips. "I'm gonna show you just how attractive you are to me, Stella Rogers." He climbed onto the bed and tilted her head so their lips could meet. The tenderness continued to baffle her, but she welcomed it. She was nervous enough without him scaring her with too much, too quickly.

"Will you make love to me?" she asked in a small voice.

"All night, if I thought I could keep up with a super soldier. At least you sucked me off earlier. And extremely well." She blushed on cue. "I'll go for longer this time."

"I just want you to take me. Please, Brock?"

He'd brought the supplies in earlier, and she watched him as he fumbled about in his nightstand drawer. He was extremely fit, well-formed, and she was content to watch his body moving beside her. He returned with a condom and rolled it on.

Almost as soon as he crawled between her legs, she began to shake with nerves. What would it be like? What might she accidentally say in the heat of the moment? What if she couldn't do this? Natasha could handle this easily.

"Hey," he said, rubbing her arms and looking genuinely concerned. "Stella—"

"Don't you dare ask me if I'm sure again," she said, glaring at him. He burst out laughing.

"As you wish, sweetheart," he said.

"But… just in case I have nightmares about… about Fury…" She swallowed and met his eyes. "Can I sleep in the living room?"

"You can have this bed—"

"No, no. I don't wanna put you out. But I don't wanna wake from a nightmare hurting you. Please, Brock."

"Whatever you like." She leaned into his hand as it cupped her cheek, lowering her eyelids to half-mast.

"I'd like you to fall in love with me, too," she said. His sharp intake of air would've been inaudible to anyone else.

"Already doin' that, sweetheart," he said.

Then he kissed her, and everything became a blur of sensation after that.

The most intense moment was when she arched against his body with a soft, broken, "Brock!"

* * *

In the morning, Brock woke with a lethargic smile. He rolled over in bed, before remembering that he was the only one there. He'd actually made Stella pass out – she really was sensitive – so he'd watched her doze for an hour or so.

It was probably the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen, those long lashes of hers resting against her cheeks, her face soft and relaxed, her body warm in his arms and her hair mussed from his hands.

In case she was only half-asleep and super soldier-alert, he'd whispered, "I love you, Stella Rogers," and it wasn't totally a lie. But then the best lies had some basis in truth. She hadn't stirred, but that didn't matter. He'd woken her by sliding into her body, and she'd clung to him until the end. Then, after kissing lazily for about ten minutes, she'd climbed out of bed on unsteady legs, he was smug to notice, and left him to sleep. It was hard, at first, because he missed her body already. But it was better to show her some respect, and he was a light sleeper.

Obviously not light enough. When he searched for her, he found a handwritten note – the same writing as his mark – on the coffee table.

_Brock,_

_I had a lot of fun last night. It was better than I'd imagined, and I already thought it was magical with Bucky. Thank you for dinner and the movie, and… everything. And you know what? I didn't have a single nightmare. Maybe it's something to do with soulmates._

_But I had to leave early. You see, I got a message from Natasha. We're going off on our own mission. The last one Fury gave me. It turns out that HYDRA infiltrated SHIELD right from the beginning. Did you know that?_

_Oh, of course you did. I heard your conversation with Rollins. Thank you for forgetting that I had super hearing. That's turned out pretty useful._

_I just can't see this working out. Not since I heard you say 'Hail HYDRA'._

_Goodbye._

_Captain America._

_P.S.: Bet you didn't think I knew how to hack your phone and computer, did you? Nazis always did keep comprehensive records._

Brock swore, crumpling the note in his hand.

* * *

_One day earlier_

Trust no one, Nick Fury had said. Stella knew that that should include her soulmate. If he was answering a phone call he didn't want her to hear, she was damn well going to listen. She sprinted quietly to the door and plastered her ear to the keyhole.

She never expected the conversation she overheard.

"…told Pierce that Rogers is your soulmate."

"What'd he say?"

"That you're a lucky son of a bitch, and that he wants to see you as soon as possible. New plan. He's willing to delay Project Insight for however long you need to break her heart. He said to have fun with her first."

Stella could hardly breathe.

"…of all people, Captain America."

"I'm doubly lucky."

"Aw, don't go all sappy on us…"

She couldn't possibly be hearing this. Who were they working for? Who was _Pierce_ working for? Why the mention of the Red Skull? Surely not…

"…never suspect an agent of HYDRA to be her soulmate."

Stella wanted to be sick. As soon as Brock echoed Rollins' 'Hail HYDRA', she tore herself away from the door and ran back to her place. She gripped the table where she had been, automatically hiding her hurt. What the hell was she supposed to do? Her soulmate was HYDRA? Was Pierce also HYDRA? How did this _happen_? _When_ did this happen? Did Fury know? Was that on the flash drive?

He was coming back. Brock was returning, and if he knew that she knew, she'd never be able to get the information she needed. She'd have to do what he was planning; seduce him, get him to let his guard down, then strike. Strike the leader of STRIKE? The thought made her smile sardonically.

She'd been on stage. She'd been on screen. She'd been undercover. Stella could do this. She could pretend to fall in love with Brock Rumlow.

* * *

At the hospital, she quickly bought two candy bars from the dispensing machine, aware that Brock was watching her. Maybe not her every move; he'd have to know that she'd feel his gaze. But when the USB was gone she began to panic. Okay, so that'd been a stupid idea. She had no idea that gum was so popular.

…And Natasha Romanov was behind her. With the last of the chewing gum, and probably the flash drive. She turned, grabbed the woman by the arm, and tugged her into a nearby room. She saw that it caught Brock's attention, and gave him a sign to wait. Of course he was going to listen in. As soon as the door was closed, she signed 'Rumlow will be listening. Can you sign and talk at the same time?' Natasha nodded. 'Good.'

They paused between sentences while Stella silently passed on what information she could, impressed that Natasha could do the same. She even signed a request for tips on seducing the information out of Brock, while discussing the ridiculous idea of the ghostly Winter Soldier. Even though he fit the description, it still didn't seem likely. The man she'd confronted was way too young.

Outside the room, having given Brock enough time to retreat, she saw Natasha staring him down.

"He's my soulmate," Stella murmured. Natasha glanced at her.

"Will you be alright?" she asked softly.

"I have to be. I have a plan."

"Text me anytime."

Stella nodded as Natasha wandered off, still with the flash drive, and a scribbled request for her to seek out Sam Wilson if she needed help. But she intended to join Natasha in the morning, after she'd worn out her soulmate. Whatever she needed to do.

Thank God Bucky had been her first, or Stella would hate this even more.

Time for the performance of her life.

* * *

"Now that's how you take down a corrupt organisation," Tony said a week later as Stella and Natasha sparred. He was watching from a bench. "I admire you, I really do."

"Do you have anything constructive to add?" Natasha asked, blocking and countering Stella's attacks.

"How the hell did you get information from Rumlow?"

Stella grimaced. "You don't think I can hack a phone and a computer? I just asked to sleep separately in case I had nightmares about Fury, then took advantage of the fact that I'm light and fast on my feet, and don't need a lot of sleep." She rolled her eyes. "Okay, I called Natasha for tips—"

"You should've called me."

"Didn't know whether or not you'd be awake."

"He probably wasn't," Natasha said.

"The point is, between that and the USB, we got all the information we needed. With Maria at the helm, we took down HYDRA within SHIELD. We were able to salvage most of our people, the ones who were on HYDRA's hit list. You're welcome for stopping Project Insight from taking you and Bruce out, by the way."

Tony lifted his eyebrows. "Huh. Thanks for that."

"No problem."

"Uh, actually? Sounds like it was a _huge _problem, one I could've helped you with. You know, without having to call in your metal-armed friend."

"Any sign of him so far?" Stella asked. She and Natasha rested, both having a vested interest in the Winter Soldier's whereabouts.

"J?"

"I was saving it as a surprise," JARVIS said.

"Saving what?"

"I indeed spotted Sergeant Barnes ten minutes ago. He had been disguised until then."

"What?" Stella said, dropping her hand wraps. "Why didn't you say anything, JARVIS?"

"Because he is on his way. I informed Dr. Banner. He is attending to your friend, and to the man who brought him in."

"Who's that?"

JARVIS paused. "You had better see for yourself. I can take you straight to medical?"

"Yes, please," Stella said. Natasha followed her to the elevator, and Tony jogged to catch up with them.

The man who'd brought Bucky in looked an awful lot like Phil Coulson. Bruce was wearing a wrist monitor, shooting him suspicious looks, while Natasha automatically moved into battle stance.

"I can explain," the Coulson look-alike said.

"He's my soulmate," Bucky said, meeting Stella's eyes. "Hey, punk."

"Bucky?"

"Soulmate. Mine." He reached out and grabbed the man's sleeve. "His name's Phil."

"Please hold still, Sergeant Barnes," Bruce said wearily.

"Fury had me brought back to life," 'Phil' said. "I was dead for five days, and he used the TAHITI program—"

"Five days," Natasha said. She glanced at Stella. "I thought I'd misread that. There was no name – just a number – but someone was brought back. An offhand comment by a HYDRA agent in front of Fury, and bam. The Winter Soldier's soulmate was saved."

"You mean they brought me back for Sergeant Barnes?"

"Apparently."

"So you actually are Phil Coulson?" Tony said.

"Ask Maria Hill. She'll tell you. I didn't know the full details until…" He turned ashen, and entwined his fingers with Bucky's. "Never thought I was going to meet my soulmate. I'd had the words all my life, and I kept waiting for someone to say 'You, are you one of them?' Forgot they were my words until Sergeant Barnes reacted to mine."

"I told you to call me James," Bucky said. Bruce smacked his other hand when it began to fidget. "Ow! Look, doc. Can I go now?"

"I'll want to perform tests later, but I'll study the blood sample you gave me," Bruce said, straightening up. "I'm sure you all want to talk. It's not a conversation that should happen in front of me unless I'm in a Hulk-proof room."

* * *

The next time Stella encountered Brock, it was during a smack-down (a twenty-first century term she loved) between the Avengers and a monstrous HYDRA creation. An actual Hydra, in fact, two of them. The team had been trying to explain Greek mythology to Thor, who took it in stride as usual, then proceeded to – as Clint put it – 'blast the shit out of' the Hydra. It didn't work; it was probably supposed to be some kind of metaphor for the whole organisation, but damned if they were gonna win. Especially with Coulson's team leading the remains of SHIELD with Bucky by his side.

"Here comes Brock's girlfriend," someone jeered. It was one of the men from the elevator. Stella narrowed her eyes, then shot him.

Yeah. No one expected her to have a gun. It was an ICER, technically, but one which would keep him down until FitzSimmons' tech revived everyone who was tagged. If only they worked on the Hydra.

"When you see Brock, tell him I said hi," she said.

"Hi."

She moved faster than lightning, flinging her shield at Brock. Like Bucky he caught it, though he skidded back a yard or so. Stella's heart damn near stopped. He was supposedly crushed by a falling wall. Had they revived him somehow? Given him something like the serum? Because there wasn't anything left of the TAHITI project, and he was showing strength Coulson didn't have.

"What happened?" she asked, moving towards him. She had to get her shield back after all. Brock flipped it expertly, almost testing the weight. Then he tossed it back to her. She grabbed hold and didn't let go. Who else around here was enhanced?

"I'm stronger," he said. "Hello, sweetheart."

"_Don't_ call me that," she said, still walking forwards. He moved to meet her.

"But you said you liked it, baby," he said, tilting his head. She narrowed her eyes.

"I said a lot of things to get you to believe me," she said.

"So did I. I'm impressed that I got taken in. Pissed, but impressed."

Stella attached her shield to her back. Brock took it as the invitation that it was. They immediately engaged in battle. Stella intended to use it as a means to study his technique, but soon found herself fighting for survival. He wasn't necessarily stronger than her, but stronger than expected, and bigger. Not by much, but it was significant enough that she couldn't just immobilise him and move on. They struck, blocked, feinted, and countered continuously. Never moving far, neither gaining the upper hand. Not until Stella allowed Brock to overpower her. They ended up on the ground, weapons and shield clattering to the side. She grabbed him by the hair and dragged his face close.

"_Why_ did you have to be HYDRA?" she hissed.

"Why did _you_ have to be SHIELD?"

Then they kissed. It was consuming and spine-tingling and she craved more.

There was a roar nearby, and she brought her fist down on the back of his neck before pushing him off. It didn't do more than phase him, but it gave her time to grab her shield and ICER, and sprint back to the Hydra. The problem was that mythology differed in its story about how the Hydra was defeated, and this obviously wasn't a real one. Stella would have rather fought a bilgesnipe; at least Thor knew how to defeat one of those.

"I think there's something mechanical in there," Iron Man said. "Hard to tell with all that fake flesh; something's block the scanner from getting a clear picture."

"If that's how to disable it, then how do we get in and do that?" Stella barked into her comm. unit. "Got any suggestions?"

"Assuming Thor didn't fry the electronics?"

"There'd be a mark," Black Widow said. "I can't see anything like that."

"It's not exactly holding still," Hawkeye said, though his arrows still struck true. He'd even managed to create a few gashes.

"Hawkeye," Stella said, knocking out more HYDRA agents with her shield and the ICER, and physically fending some of them off. "The arrows which have caused damage. What're they made of?"

"Vibranium. They slice right through an' go out the other side. Not enough to do damage, but when I follow `em up with another, it's a good way to get inside the neck and destroy it."

"This one?" Stella got close enough to pick up a goo-stained arrow.

"One of `em landed there."

She considered the arrow and her shield.

"Iron Man, I need a lift," she said.

"Grab hold!" he said, landing beside her. "Where to?"

"The back of the Hydra."

"Got a plan?"

"Yep."

He deposited her on the back. She hooked her legs around the thickest neck, and Iron Man shot at the other ones to keep them from getting at Stella. She used Clint's arrow to dig a long line down the back, then used her shield to tear it apart, exposing the machine.

"I got it!" she said. "Iron Man, you're gonna have to help me with this."

"What d'you need?"

"Can you hack it? Looks like it needs a password."

Iron Man got close, the suit still firing off at the other necks and Thor frying them when he could. He scanned the unit.

"Yeah, it needs a password," he said. "Oh, and that timer? Looks like it's set to blow in sixty seconds if you don't enter something. And they're wheels, not buttons."

"Eight of `em," Stella said.

"If it blows, at least this thing'll be de-powered. C'mon."

"What about the other one?"

"Cap, let's go! More heads are growing!"

"Either go or keep blasting them! You can't get me out of here and do both."

Eight wheels. 'Mythology' was too long, 'Greek' was too short. She flicked through the first wheel, and none of the letters was 'h', so 'Heracles' was out. She tried to remember anything else about the myth of Hydra.

Wait. There was something before the name. A place?

"Where was the Hydra from?" she asked.

"Uh… JARVIS said it's from Lerna," Iron Man said. "L-E-R-N-A. It's… Lernaean!"

Stella quickly spun the letters. The ticking which had been disguised by the Hydra's noise stopped, and the timer de-powered. The manufactured monster went still and slumped over, nearly dislodging Stella. She flung her shield onto the back holster.

Then an electronic voice said 'Failsafe'. The neck she'd been clinging to swiped her off.

* * *

When Brock saw Iron Man taking Stella to the Hydra, he barely had time to wonder what was going on before he was clipped by an ICER. The wound turned blue for a second, and then the serum healed it instantly. It barely phased him, giving him the chance to see just how close his soulmate was getting to the snake-headed monster HYDRA had whipped up. The Hulk was still smashing another one, with SHIELD's help. Brock was more concerned about what was happening here, and began to run towards the Hydra. He didn't know how it all worked, but he knew that getting inside wasn't going to disable the whole thing, nor were the two machines connected to each other.

He had to deal with Romanov, who was acting particularly vicious towards him. It's not like he was the one who'd done the hoodwinking; that was her girl who'd tricked Brock into thinking she cared. He should've seen it from the beginning, and was in big trouble with Pierce when the deception was discovered. Good thing the guy was dead; bad thing that Brock nearly died as well. On the plus side, he was now enhanced. He'd taken on Captain America and briefly overpowered her.

"She's better off without you," Romanov said.

"Behind you," he replied.

"I know," she said, flipping the assailant over her head and nearly hitting Brock.

Then the Hydra lost all life, and nearly everyone stopped moving.

Until one head rose up and knocked Stella flying. She hit a wall and fell to the ground. Brock was halfway to her before he was even aware of moving, let alone sprinting over fallen debris and around the bodies of HYDRA agents. He was nearly there when Iron Man landed in front of him. Brock tried to move around, but two arms caught and held him at arms' length.

"Let me see her," Brock said, struggling. "She's my soulmate."

"You're HYDRA—"

"And that thing's gonna blow unless someone throws the right switch!"

"She entered the password—"

"Anyone can work out the password. But there's less than three minutes to shut down that neck before the whole thing explodes, taking down everything and everyone in a five mile radius, Stark."

"And I suppose you're the only one who knows which one is the kill switch," Iron Man said sarcastically.

"No, but you all knocked out most of them." He stared straight into the armour's eyes. "I need to disable it, or Stella will get hurt."

"You don't get to call her that."

"You don't get to dictate whether she lives or dies, either! Now _move_ aside."

"Let him, Stark!" Romanov called. "The timer's going again, and the main neck is stirring."

Iron Man flew him over there. Brock craned his neck, but there was a crowd of people around Stella, hiding her from view. Romanov held a gun to his head as soon as he was dumped on the Hydra's back.

"Fix it," she said. Brock spun the letter wheels to spell NAEANREL, leaving the sixth wheel `til last. Then he pressed it in, and a panel opened. Instead of pressing the button, he pulled it out. The timer stopped with a click, and each neck fell off. Romanov relayed each step over the comms.

"Time to cauterize the stumps," he said, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He looked at Romanov. "I want to see my soulmate."

She remained silent as Iron Man burned the spaces where necks used to be. Barton ran off to check on the second Hydra and help with cleanup it, and Brock climbed down the monster until he was on solid ground. Stella wasn't where she had fallen, but he could see blood from where she'd hit her head. He looked around, but was again blocked from trying to find her.

"You must come into custody," Thor said. Brock opened his mouth to argue, then wisely shut it. He nodded, and the alien-god led him away.

* * *

"I heard you didn't eat until you knew how I was doing."

Brock sat up from his jail cell bed. He approached the door, where a small window with bars allowed him to see his soulmate's face. She looked as good as new, but he knew she'd been out of it for a whole day. When no one told him about her, he stopped eating.

"If I meant anything to SHIELD, they'd have to tell me how you were," he said. "If I didn't mean anything, it didn't matter because they'd never let me see you. So I stopped caring whether or not I stayed alive."

Her eyebrows scrunched together. "That's suicidal talk."

"You're my soulmate. If I can't have you by my side…"

"That's wrong, and if you think SHIELD can be manipulated—"

"SHIELD," he scoffed. "Like I've ever cared about SHIELD."

"Right," she said, nodding, with a poisonous look in her eyes. "You only ever cared about HYDRA."

"You know what was supposed to happen? We were supposed to arrest you that day in the elevator. Take you into custody for keeping secrets from SHIELD, and being implicated in Fury's death." Her jaw tightened. "The truth didn't matter, Stella. All that mattered was taking out threats."

"Threats to HYDRA, not to the safety of the world! Or don't you know the difference anymore?"

"Damn it, Stella!" He thumped the bars, denting them. She backed off a step, eyeing them.

"I… didn't come here to argue," she said.

"Could've fooled me."

"I came to see how you were."

"Why would you care?"

"Because you're my soulmate. Fate gave you to me for a reason. I was born before you, remember?"

"It's easy to forget when you look so young," he said, looking over her. "How are you? That was a pretty nasty hit."

"I've taken worse. Head wounds bleed a lot. My brain heals itself just as well as it heals the rest of me. A lot less time than it would anyone else, except Thor and Bucky. And now you, it looks like." She straightened the bars. He wanted to touch her hands, but resisted, even when she left them there like the greatest temptation.

"They did something to me," he said. "I don't know what, but I'm stronger now."

"I know."

"Well…" He turned away and returned to his bed.

"Brock?"

"I'm fine. Just waitin' for the verdict. Jury still out?" He sat on the edge of the mattress.

"Uh…"

"You've done your duty, whatever you think that is," he said. "You've heard how I am, and you've seen how I am. You can go now."

"That's not the only reason I came here, Brock."

"Well, it's not like I've got anywhere else to go," he said, shrugging as he lay back down. "Talk away. It's not like I've got a choice."

"Coulson's a big one for second chances. I know Bucky didn't have autonomy, so his situation's different to yours. But you're my soulmate. Everyone knows I'm not gonna go evil. So…" She held onto the bars, but he didn't meet her eyes. He wasn't going to look at those baby blues from any distance if he could help it. He'd just get sucked in again. "You're getting a second chance. Start on our team, because we can put you down if you go rogue. If you really do turn over a new leaf, then you can return to SHIELD… or stay with us."

He snorted. "Yeah, I can't see anyone accepting me."

"If we bonded, I'd be able to watch you from anywhere. I'd know if you planned to betray us. I could vouch for you if you stayed on our side."

"Stella—"

"Brock, please consider it." Her voice had a tremor. "I never lied about being attracted to you. I think you could become the kind of man I could fall in love with. Don't you want your soulmate to be in love with you?"

He swallowed, screwing his eyes shut. "Yes."

"And I _want_ to love you, but you're making it so damn hard by being… being…"

"Me?"

"Stubborn! What's so wrong with being one of the good guys?" He sat up, rubbing his face as his eyes prickled. "They make figurines of us."

Brock stared at her, and then burst out laughing. She joined in, and he shook his head.

"That's how you got me to fall in love with you," he said, scratching his hair. Her laughter petered off, and he realised what he said. "Yeah. That was… that was becoming real, sweetheart."

"Brock…"

"Figurines? Really?"

She shrugged. "People prefer the heroes and heroines to the villain, at least in real life. If someone threatens a child, people hate the guy doing it. It's the person who stops the bully that people love the most. Don't you wanna be that person?" He didn't speak. "Brock, you wanted to erase threats to peace. What Project Insight was going to do would've destroyed many of the world's defenders. If you really want to save people… then please. Take this chance. It's the only one you'll get. If you don't, you'll be locked away forever, and we'll never see each other again."

He couldn't take that. He just… he couldn't.

"Okay," he said. "I'll try to be what you want me to be."

"It's not about me. Be who _you_ want to be, Brock."

"Stella—"

"Brock, I heard you that night. When you said you loved me? I… I know it was just a lie, I knew it then. But I wanted it to be true."

"It would've been, if we'd kept going the way we were."

"Tables turned on you, didn't they?" He nodded. "The difference is that I knew you were trying to make me love you, so everything was fake to me. You thought I was being genuine."

"I _know_ you weren't faking all your reactions," he said.

"No, I never said I did. You're a dangerous man. If you weren't HYDRA, I might've done anything you asked me just to make you happy."

"I felt the same."

"We can… we can have that again, if you promise to join our side. Give us both a second chance, Brock."

Slowly, he stood and walked over to the door. She let him touch her fingers, and he kissed the tips.

"Anything you wish, sweetheart," he said.

* * *

**Wow. Another monster of a chapter. Again, no idea how it got to this length.**

**I TOLD YOU THE LONG ONES WERE ANGSTY!**

…**Ehem.**

**I wanted to do another genderswap, and I wanted to do this pair because of reasons. Bucky/Phil was an illusion to the other genderswap gender, which featured those two, with fem!Phil. I figured that fem!Steve would seem more vulnerable and susceptible, making Brock's actions more reprehensible; the double standard means that Steve could be considered more manipulative of fem!Brock. Besides, good guy getting the upper hand? Make it a good gal!**

**I read somewhere that Stephanie wasn't a name in World War II? So I went with Stella. Because star.**

**Please review!**


	44. New to Me (Fitz x May x Skye)

"New to Me"

Leo Fitz was definitely intimidated by his soulmates. Terrified of one of them, and just generally overwhelmed. And confused. How on God's green Earth did he get Grant Ward and Melinda May for soulmates? They were both experienced agents – May was a personal friend of Phil Coulson, for crying out loud! – and Fitz was an engineer fresh from SHIELD academy with absolutely no field training. If they were supposed to be contrasting each other, he had no idea how.

It was clearly the relationships could only ever be platonic. He was pretty sure that either of them could break him with their pinkie; in May's case, probably with a raised eyebrow. That seemed pretty lethal in and of itself.

"I'm sure you'll be fine, Fitz," Simmons said.

"Yeah, yeah, you say that now," he said. "I s'pose I should be happy that we're all on this plane together. Now that we've found each other, the separation would be an irritating itch."

She patted his arm, and they continued to unpack.

Yes, it became clear very quickly that he wasn't going to interest either of them. And, quite frankly, he preferred to spend his time with Skye and Simmons. He couldn't help spending time with Simmons, and it seemed like Skye preferred to hang out with people her own age, and who were much friendlier than Ward.

After their first mission together, he was left reeling. May. Was The Cavalry.

Shit. One of his soulmates was The Cavalry.

Then he and Ward went to South Ossetia, and he felt… closer to his soulmate. After they got past the arguing.

But Ward ran hot and cold. The berserker staff could be blamed for his anger, but it still hurt to have such vitriol aimed at him. It didn't take long to realise that there was some kind of relationship happening between May and Ward, though. At least his two soulmates were sexually compatible. They were disagreeable, and it baffled him, but they weren't alone. He would've felt bad…

Of course, it would help if he wasn't alone himself. His attempts at flirting with Skye were pathetic, and he just couldn't seem to talk to Simmons about his feelings.

"Do you think I'm broken?" Skye asked.

"What do you mean?" Simmons said, bent over her microscope. Fitz was working on the weight of the ICERs.

"Because I don't have a soulmark."

"Soulmarks are more trouble than they're worth," Fitz said. "Too much hype about them."

"What do you mean?" Skye said, tilting her head. He shrugged.

"They don't seem to mean anything, that's all," he said. "Look at me. My two soulmates are May and Ward."

"Seriously?" Skye said, her eyes goggling.

"You didn't tell me that!" Simmons exclaimed, looking up.

"It didn't seem to matter," he said. "There's nothing going to happen there. I can't imagine two less likely people for me, can you? I've been in the field, but—"

"You're badass too, Fitz," Skye said. "You're a genius, _and _one of the nicest people I know. You totally deserve a couple of sexy field agents as your soulmates."

"That would imply that I'm sexually interested in either of them, and I can't see it being reciprocated. Ward isn't exactly my type, and I'm pretty sure Agent May… well, she could be my type, but they both terrify me. They'd eat me alive."

"Oh, poor Fitz." Simmons patted his shoulder, and he glared at her half-heartedly. "It'll happen one day."

"Put it this way," he said, pointing a spanner at Skye. "You don't have Fate telling you that you must be with this person, or these people. It means that you're not going against Fate if you choose someone different. No chance that the world might be knocked off its axis or something." He shook his head. "It's all a very woolly science."

"Wait." She glanced at Simmons. "I thought it was Hermione who referred to divination as a woolly subject."

"I am not Hermione!" Simmons said, and she returned to her microscope with a grimace while Skye giggled. Fitz winked at Skye, and returned to the ICER.

* * *

After Ward chose HYDRA over their team, May noticed that his soulmark disappeared. Well, it appeared as soon as she accepted the betrayal. It seemed that Fitz's stayed longer. It was probably his sentimentality. She didn't know that he set such stock by soulmates, but she'd heard him babbling to Simmons that his mark was still there, that Ward couldn't be HYDRA because of that. May wanted to slap sense into him, hold him tightly until he understood, beg him to let go.

She didn't. Then he nearly drowned and she'd come close to losing her second mark. If it wouldn't look out of character, she would've hugged Simmons for saving him. May would have really regretted it if she'd lost her chance to get to know her remaining soulmate. Maybe if she'd spent more time with him, and less time in bed with Ward, this whole thing would hurt less.

So she stayed by his side during his recovery. She knew he saw her there, even held his hand when she was confident that no one would see it.

"He'll pay for this," she assured him. "As soon as I'm allowed to, I'll make him pay. He can't remain useful forever."

She could've sworn his hand twitched under hers.

"I'll protect you properly next time," she said. "Just you and me now." She leaned over and kissed his forehead. It should've felt strange, but instead it felt natural.

That was new. She should've done it a long time ago.

* * *

They were so busy in Puerto Rico that Skye missed the appearance of a couple of smudges on her body, especially after Trip's death and she began to go through yet another personal crisis. Seriously, why did life pile so much bad on her?

It was a major shock when Simmons drew a sample of blood in quarantine, and squeaked.

"Skye!"

"What, what? Do I have a spider on me? A rash?"

"Look."

It looked like a bruise, or a bunch of funny-shaped bruises.

"That doesn't look natural," she said.

"I've seen videos! It's what happens when someone gains a new soulmark. Concentrate. Can you feel it?"

Skye paused, and focused on that spot. She felt it happening elsewhere, and hopped off the examination table. She pushed her pants down and examined the smudge on her inner thigh, close to her knee.

"Two of them?" she said. "At the same time?"

"I don't understand, but perhaps something happened in the temple which unlocked… this," Simmons said, her eyes shining with the possibilities. Skye huffed, and held out her arm."

"Okay, Spike, just take your blood then get back to work."

"Fitz will run the tests while I oversee—"

"I know, I know." She winced at the unpleasant sensation of having her blood drawn.

"I'll pop that to the lab, and we'll be done. You might want to pull your trousers up."

Skye rolled her eyes, but she followed Simmons' advice. The scientist buzzed out of the quarantine room, and Skye sank onto the bed.

And waited.

She hadn't seen May or Fitz since she came out of the temple, and hadn't spoken to them, either. It was… weird that she was thinking about the two of them more than anyone else. But then Fitz was testing her blood and May was her SO, so it made sense for them to be at the forefront of her mind. She guessed.

Why was she getting soulmarks now? What if they weren't soulmarks? What if they were for other people who'd had weird stuff happen to them? Was the same thing happening to Raina? Had the same thing happened to Skye's mother?

"How…" She squinted as words began to become clear. "How… something… something-ing." She traced the letters as they appeared. "You… How are… 'How are you feeling?' That's…" It came clear, and she grinned at reading her first ever soulmark. Excited, she pulled her pants down again and narrowed her eyes, leaning down to read. Her eyes adjusted, and it was easier to make out the words. "You, uh… you look… letter? No, better. Then… no, than. Be… 'You look better than before.' Huh." Pretty generic, but not as bad as a straight 'Hello' or 'Hi'. So she couldn't complain. Maybe she'd even see her soulmates at the same time?

She covered up again, and rested back, smiling for the first time since the temple. Real smiling, not the fake or sarcastic smiles she'd given the rest of the team. Mainly Coulson and Simmons, really, but at least she'd seen them.

There was a tap on the window, and she looked up. She smiled in relief, and some surprise, as Fitz and May waved.

"I can hear you, you know," she said. "It's not soundproof."

They looked at each other, and then her.

"How are you feeling?" Fitz asked.

"You look better than before," May said.

Skye swivelled around on the bed, staring at them, mouth agape. She managed to shake herself out of it, and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm good," she said. "Real good." She smiled widely. "I'm great."

Fitz beamed back, and May gave her a small, genuine smile.

* * *

**Okay, peeps, so I'll be out working casually a few days this week. I spent several hours today writing 'The Deceit Was Mine', and I have Wednesday off; but I won't be able to write anything while I'm working, so yeah. You probably won't get much from me on those days, if anything. I suppose that's the time to work on the smutty-smutty bonding scenes. I've been working on the Creed/Phil scene, because that's been haunting me for days.**

**Moving on.**

**Please review!**


	45. On the Run (Bruce x Bucky)

"On the Run"

Bruce Banner knew the look of someone on the run, searching for something which couldn't easily be found. In Bruce's case, it was invariably safety. He didn't know what this man or woman was after, but they were ducking in and out of the shadows. He wouldn't have seen them if it weren't for his own experience and heightened senses (both thanks to the Hulk). Hell, he wouldn't have even bothered them if it wasn't for the limp they weren't bothering to hide. Why hide something no one should be able to see?

He began to follow. Either he'd catch up or they'd confront him. They weren't going to get far with an injured leg, and Bruce had more energy now that he was living with Tony Stark and getting… well, not three square meals, because science. But when JARVIS reminded them to eat something, he didn't have to grab what he could and make it stretch.

It was the second. One minute he thought he'd lost the person he was trailing; a moment later, there was a hand around his throat pushing him against the wall. He stared into wild eyes and tried to swallow behind the metal hand. Robot? No, that face was human.

"Who are you?" the man growled. "What do you want?"

The Hulk was trying to get out, and Bruce fought it. With a muted roar, he managed to fling the man away. Metal clattered as the guy hit the ground. Bruce moved towards him, and the man scrambled backwards, trying to get up. Where he'd been a threat before, now he was scared. Bruce squatted beside him, and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you," he said.

"You're not?"

"No. I'm a doctor, a good doctor. I've… been on the wrong end of medicine before, so I can understand your fear."

The man's chest was heaving as he stared at Bruce from behind straggly hairs. Bruce tucked them back.

"I have your words on me," the stranger said. Bruce nearly fell flat on his ass.

"I…" He blinked, and half-smiled. "I have yours on me."

"Can I see?"

"Not in public."

The stranger raised his eyebrows and smirked slightly. The way he looked Bruce over was blatantly appreciative, and it made Bruce blush. He held out his hand and helped the man up.

"What's your name?" he said.

"Hmm?" The man ducked his head. "I asked first."

"I'm Bruce Banner. Like I said, I'm a doctor, and I think you hurt your leg. Will you let me look at it?"

"Not in public," the man said, echoing Bruce's words. Bruce chuckled.

"Tell me your name?" he asked, tilting the man's head up. Dark, wary eyes met his.

"Bucky Barnes," he said softly. Bruce thought he'd misheard. He replayed it in his head, and it still came out as 'Bucky Barnes'. Huh.

"What do you want me to call you?" he said.

"You can call me Bucky."

"Alright." Bruce took both his hands; that explained the metal one. He kept Bucky close to him. "Do you have a place to stay?" Bucky shook his head, watching Bruce carefully. He'd have to tread lightly. "I'm about to tell you something, and I need you to promise not to run as soon as I say it. Do you promise?"

"Y-yes."

"I… know Steve Rogers. We both live at Stark Tower." Bucky's eyes dropped. "You don't have to see him. I'll find somewhere else for you to live, somewhere safe, or try to sneak you in. I think JARVIS likes me. He's the computer that runs the tower," he added when Bucky tilted his head, frowning.

"I want to go with you," Bucky said. "But I don't want to see…"

"Steve?"

"Yet."

"You know he's been searching for you?"

"I don't…" Bucky shook his head fiercely, and Bruce cupped his face to calm him down.

"He'll respect your privacy," he said. "I'll make sure he understands that the Other Guy won't like any attempts to contact you before you're ready."

"Other guy?"

"How… how much do you know about the Avengers?"

"I've seen pictures. And toys."

"You know the big green one, the Hulk?" Bucky nodded. "That's me. That's what I become."

Bucky's eyes widened. "How do you control it?" he asked. Bruce studied him.

"Do you want me to show you?" he said.

"Yes. Please."

"Alright. So do you want to go to Stark Tower with me?"

"Stark…"

"JARVIS will keep unwanted visitors away from you." Bruce let go of Bucky's hands and held him loosely by the elbows. "You get to control who visits you. Unless," he continued, "you're moping, and someone needs to snap you out of it."

"I want to stay with you." In a quick movement, Bucky wrapped his arms around Bruce's torso and hid his face in Bruce's neck. "Don't let them get me."

"I think we'll be looking out for each other, Bucky." He held his soulmate close. "The military is always after me. I was supposed to replicate the super soldier serum, and my big green alter ego was the result. They like testing me, to see how much it takes to kill me." He laughed hollowly. "If a bullet in my mouth didn't do it, I don't see what the military could throw at me short of an atomic bomb." Bucky glared at him. "Let's get you inside. As soon as we're there, I'll take you straight to medical and look at that leg."

"Sure you're not just tryin' to get me outta my clothes, doc?"

Bruce didn't realise that a strong Brooklyn accent could make his breath hitch like that; apparently, it could. Judging by Bucky's slow smile, he'd noticed it.

"Not until we know each other a little better," Bruce said dryly. "Come on."

* * *

JARVIS was the best electronic friend a doctor could have. He agreed to keep Bucky's presence secret as long as possible, and ensure that no one disturbed them.

"Y' make it sound like you're gonna seduce me or somethin', doc," Bucky said, trying to pull Bruce closer. Bruce stayed just out of reach as he armed himself with stethoscope and reflex hammer. His stern glares were half-hearted at best, and had no effect on his soulmate, who'd come alive the longer they spent together. It helped that Bruce refused to settle on any depressing topics, instead talking about New York City, Stark Tower, and lolcats.

"You're like an octopus," he said, fending off Bucky's greedy hands. "Sit still; I need to listen to your heart."

"You could hear my heart if I wasn't wearin' a shirt," Bucky said, his eyes glittering, "an' you just had your ear pressed there. Never been with a man before. Wonder what this'd be like `gainst my skin." He stroked Bruce's stubble. The doctor swallowed.

"Bucky," he said slowly.

"C'mere. I wanna kiss."

Bruce huffed, but stepped closer. He couldn't resist those puppy-dog eyes. How the hell did the Winter Soldier even learn to do puppy-dog eyes?

"Fi—"

Bucky cut him off, his flesh hand scrunching up Bruce's hair as he controlled the kiss. Bruce grappled for something to hold, and caught Bucky's waist. Their tongues met, and his hands slipped to the mattress in shock. Bucky took advantage of his loss of balance to pull him back onto the reinforced hospital bed. The Other Guy purred in contentment. Taking this as permission, Bruce followed Bucky's lips as the soldier moved backwards until he was lying down, head on the pillows, fingers still entwined in Bruce's hair.

* * *

"You kept him secret for a _week_?"

Bruce looked at Steve blankly.

"What?" he said.

"Bucky's here, and you didn't _tell anyone_?"

"Of course we did," he said. "We told JARVIS. He respected Bucky's wish for privacy, as I know you will." His voice turned hard towards the end. Steve fidgeted in place. "I said that I know you will respect my soulmate's wish for privacy."

It was the only time he'd ever seen Natasha Romanov choke on a drink. It was a relief that she really didn't know everything. He handed her a serviette, and she croaked a thank-you.

"Won't he let me see him?" Steve said glumly. "At all? Bruce, he's my—"

"Best friend, once upon a time," Bruce said. "You have to get to know him again. I'm not forcing him to see you until he's ready. And I'll be there if he asks me to."

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it pretty quickly. He nodded.

"You'll… encourage him, won't you?" he asked. "Please, Bruce."

"He's making good progress. I wouldn't bond with him without getting your blessing, out of respect for your friendship."

"I wanna see him."

"Now you sound less pathetic and more petulant. May I ask how you worked it out?"

Steve lifted a shoulder. "He sent me a video message to say 'hi'. I recognised one of your shirts in the background. So, you're his…"

"Yes."

He smiled sadly. "Well, you look after him, y'hear? That's a great guy you've got for a soulmate."

"I know," Bruce said. He folded up the newspaper and tucked it under his arm. "Please don't drop in unexpectedly. He doesn't like surprises."

"Noted." Bruce was nearly out the door when Steve continued. "When I see him… I'll tell him he's a got a great guy for a soulmate, too."

"Odin save me from Hallmark moments," Natasha muttered.

* * *

**Usually it's Tony or Clint who chokes on a drink in my stories. This time I made Natasha the victim, because the thought makes me grin.**

**Well, this chapter was actually inspired by a prompt on the kink meme. The pairing, the words, taking place post-Cap 2. Round 26, page 18. The prompter is tigriswolf. If you're on here, hello, tigriswolf! *Waves***

**Please review, folks!**


	46. Lost and Found (Bucky x Jemma x Logan)

"Lost and Found"

Logan lost his first soulmate. Thanks to his damn super-healing, James Barnes's mark on him stayed solid and strong, a reminder of what he couldn't have.

'What's with the sideburns?' appeared on the inside of his upper left arm during World War One; as soon as World War Two hit, he figured that his soulmate was male, and that they'd find each other on the battlefield. Or a woman who'd become a nurse.

Victor made fun of him, of course he did. He was probably jealous that Logan had a soulmate; considering how long they'd been alive, and that they'd stopped ageing, he didn't know why Victor would be worried. They were effectively immortal. Plenty of time to find a soulmate, maybe more than one.

Then he met Bucky Barnes while they fought alongside Captain America and the Howling Commandoes. And in Logan's case, tried to mediate the vicious arguments between Steve and Victor.

"Kinda reminds me of back home," Bucky said one night as they watched the stars together, side by side, lying on the grass. "Steve's always been one to pick fights. At least this time he's not gonna get beat up by someone stronger than him."

"You shouldn't underestimate Victor's strength," Logan said, discreetly tangling his fingers with Bucky's. Bucky looked at him, raising his eyebrows.

"You shouldn't underestimate Victor at all," he said.

Then he got a cable from Steve after Bucky fell. Logan wondered whether he was broken, that he couldn't feel his soulmate's death. Fucking alcohol didn't work for him, and he had to settle for sparring with Victor.

In the mid-eighties – he wasn't in any condition to remember the exact date – he discovered a new soulmark. No, not new; additional. Bucky's was still there, sometimes like an itch. This one was on the outside of his right thigh, thin, precise handwriting, a complete contrast to Bucky's thick scrawl. Whoever his second soulmate was, would he break her? He was pretty sure that it was a woman, judging by the writing. He'd had enough time to study the subject, come to see the signs of a man in Bucky's soulmark.

In his few encounters with Victor, the subject of soulmates never came up. Only the once, when he mentioned Bucky. They both died then, not that it stuck. It never did.

Logan didn't want to see Steve again – it was too damn painful – but Captain America kept bugging him into visiting New York so they could catch up on old times. 'See if you still have those sideburns Bucky teased you about', his letter said. Yeah, an actual letter. Scott nearly had hysterics (his version of hysterics) when he found out that Logan got something through the snail mail. If Logan wasn't so fond of Jean, he probably would've skewered Cyclops for that.

He'd heard of SHIELD, and the epic tantrum the Avengers had thrown when they found out who the new director was. Logan didn't see the problem; a guy they thought was dead turned out _not_ to be dead. Lucky them. If it'd only happen to him.

Naturally, the second Logan stepped out of a cab in New York City, he found out he'd been followed by Victor. At least it felt like it, since he was there in his capacity as a mercenary working for some guy named Strucker. Sounded too damn close to Stryker for Logan's liking.

"Ah, hell," he muttered, and he leapt into the fray. Victor was up the other end of the street, getting too close to a group of civilians who were firing at him.

He could've told them it'd have no effect. Had to tell them when they made the mistake of spreading out. Easier for Victor to pick `em off one by one.

"James?"

"Hi, Steve," he said, running past.

"Hey, it's—"

But Logan ran, slicing through the mutants he didn't recognise; the ones who weren't smart enough to get out of the way first. He had no idea what any of the SHIELD agents looked like, which was why it was bad to go into a battle without knowing everything about the enemy and the allies. Not like he couldn't help out, though, or at least take down his brother. Again. For all the good it'd do.

He deflected some bullets – not as effectively as Wade, but there was no one like Wade Wilson… thank God – and then leapt behind a makeshift wall a young woman was hiding behind.

"Sorry `bout my brother, ma'am," he said, throwing a piece of rubble to distract Victor.

"No offence, but your brother seems a few watts short of a light bulb," she said. There was a shriek and an earth tremor from somewhere to their left. "Skye!"

Logan registered the words she'd spoken to him, and sprang up to follow her a second too late. One of Strucker's guys fired at her—

And someone bowled her over, bullet pinging off something metal, before the guy virtually threw her back to Logan. He crouched beside them, taking out a gun.

"You hurt your arm," he said, nodding. Both she and Logan looked at the gravel rash marring her skin.

"It's alright, it will get better," she said, looking up at him. He stared right back. She gasped, and then glanced back over her shoulder at Logan. "Then both of you are… oh my."

"Both what?" Logan said. He arched an eyebrow as he looked up at the other guy… and damn near stopped breathing. "Bucky?"

"James?"

"It… you died! Steve sent me a cable saying you died!"

"I didn't," he said. "Brainwashed by HYDRA."

"Bucky Barnes," the young woman said, pointing at him. She turned her head to Logan again. "And…"

He held up a hand and his claws shot out. "They call me Wolverine," he said. "Or Logan. I go by Logan nowadays." His lips twisted up at the corners as he looked Bucky over. "That'll make it less confusin', though you always preferred 'Bucky', didn't you?"

"Oh my," she repeated.

"You're from SHIELD, aren't you?" Logan asked.

"Yes," she said dazedly. "New SHIELD, run by Coulson. We're…" Then she squirmed around. "Skye!"

"I'm okay!" another girl called back. "Stay there, Jemma!"

"Your name is Jemma?" Bucky said. She nodded.

"Jemma Simmons," she said. "I'm… oh dear. This is terribly awkward. You see, I'm a doctor. A scientist, really, but I gather you've both had horrific experiences with—"

"Well," Logan said, nuzzling behind her ear. She whimpered softly. "You could always give us some nicer memories to counteract that, sweetheart."

"I'd… I'd like that," she squeaked. "Um, but later, perhaps?"

"Let's go tear the shit outta the people shootin' at our gal," Bucky said. "With me… Logan?"

"Always," he said. "Stay here." He kissed Jemma on the lips, and Bucky followed suit. She still looked partly out of it. The next roar from the Hulk startled her, and her game face was back on.

"Right," she said.

"Good luck, pal," Logan said, and he yanked Bucky into a rough kiss. It was full of tongue and teeth and waited-too-long feelings. When they pulled apart, he noticed Jemma staring at them. He snapped his fingers in front of her face to bring her out of her trance.

That was useful to know. Just kissing each other was enough to render their soulmate insensible? Logan knew that Bucky was gonna join him in exploiting that.

* * *

Jemma stared at the tabletop with a blush on her face, nursing the dressing on her injured arm. She kept replaying that kiss, and… those muscles…

"This is going to be a problem, isn't it?" Coulson said.

"No, sir," she said faintly. "Far from a problem."

"I can't blame her," Skye said. "If I had two hot, muscly guys like that for soulmates, I think seeing them kiss at close quarters like that would be _in-cre-di-bly _hot, with a capital O-M-G."

With frequent pokes from Skye, Jemma managed to get through the rest of the meeting, internally scolding herself for getting distracted. May reminded Coulson that it was natural to feel some pull after meeting your soulmate for the first time, and that the separation was bound to be affecting Logan and Bucky as well. Even though they were together, and clearly had some relationship in the past, they were going to feel equally listless. It was biology; Jemma's head cleared enough for her to start reciting everything she had learnt in class, until Coulson kicked her off the bus to go and find her soulmates.

Well, talking science to a field agent had its positives.

Iron Man was waiting there, his face plate lowered.

"I hope you're wearing something under that skirt," he said.

"Semper ubi sub ubi," she replied.

"…Should you be saying that to me? `Cause I could've sworn I heard 'booby' in there."

"It's a Latin joke," she said. "It means 'always wear underwear'."

"Ah." He held out an arm. "They would've come, but this is quicker, so they're preparing instead."

"Preparing?"

"You're all gonna be restless away from each other. Best way to settle it is through bonding."

"Yes, I tried to explain that to Director Coulson."

"Pfft. He doesn't speak our English. C'mon, Dr. Simmons. Sooner you get the bonding over with, the sooner you can talk to Bruce Banner. He wants to run some theories by you. Seems impressed with what he's read of your work."

Jemma put a foot on the platform which extended out of one of the armour's feet. The mask came up and one metal arm clamped itself around her waist. She linked her hands behind his neck, and closed her eyes as they hurtled off.

"You should totally look. It's a great view from up here."

"I've seen the world from up high!" she called over the rush of the wind. "Although it was really only ocean, and I mostly fell backwards."

He paused. "One, my speakers pick up your voice just fine, so there's no need to shout. Two, unless you want two really overprotective soulmates, never tell them that you fell into the ocean."

"I was caught. It's… a long story. The other time I fell into the ocean was when—"

"Do I really want to know all this? Because I don't want to keep secrets from Bucky Barnes. He'd know, and he could probably take me in the armour. At the very least he wouldn't let me work on his arm, and I definitely want to get my hands on that baby."

Jemma laughed, keeping her eyes closed nonetheless, and continued to hang on for dear life until they touched down somewhere. She looked around and realised that they were on the balcony of a skyscraper, most likely Avengers Headquarters. She patted her hair down and thanked Mr. Stark.

"Don't call me that, Dr. Simmons. It's Tony."

"As long as it's Jemma."

"Cool. I can find you a brush—"

"No need for that," a gruff voice said. She whirled around, and gulped when she realised how close her soulmates were. It was Logan speaking. "We're just gonna mess it up again anyway, first chance we get."

"I'll leave that to Logan," Bucky said, holding up his metal arm. "Wouldn't wanna pull out any hairs `cause of this."

"You know, I could probably design some kind of flesh-like polymer to go over the—"

"Shut up, Stark," Logan said. Tony zipped his lips. "But… thanks for the floor."

"Just make use of it. Not just the bed, or I'll start to feel like the madam at a brothel."

"I think you'd need to be quite a bit more buxom for that," Jemma said. Tony grinned.

"I like you," he said. "I'm gonna poach you from Coulson."

"I don't see that happening. I have friends—"

"We'll work something out. Later!" He waved as he walked inside, the armour already flying off him. Jemma turned to her soulmates, hoping they'd mistake the pinkness of her cheeks for her mode of travel.

"We kept thinkin' about you," Bucky said, taking one of her hands in his flesh one. "It was real distracting."

"Really distracting, and yes. I felt the same way."

"You gonna be correcting our speech all the time?" Logan asked, holding onto her other hand as they led her inside. "Because he's from Brooklyn, and I'm from… a lotta places. You'll have your work cut out for you."

"Sorry, my family accuse me of being a grammar Na… ah."

"Grammar Nazi?" he said. She nodded, embarrassed.

"I shouldn't use that word," she said. "Not around either of you, and especially now that we're fighting HYDRA so often."

"Did you get in trouble for not paying attention during the debrief?" Bucky asked as they walked through the living area. Jemma couldn't wave to the others, but she nodded and smiled as they greeted her. It was all terribly overwhelming, and she half-expected to wake up and find it to be a dream. But none of her dreams were anything like this. "We sure did."

"I explained the mechanics of soulmateship to the director," she said.

"You haven't experienced the whole thing, though," Logan said, pulling her into the lift when it arrived.

"Well, no. I only just met you today. You'd know if I had; you'd have been there."

"Do you _want_ the full experience?" Bucky asked, pressing against her from behind. She swallowed delicately, and nodded. "Verbal consent, if you don't mind."

"Yes. Yes, please. But can we get to know each other first? I only know what I've read about you. I'd like to learn about your relationship. You recognised each other, I know you did."

"We couldn't do much," Logan admitted. "War-time, same-sex relationships frowned upon, even between soulmates. Some idiots used to think that Fate got it wrong."

"Some idiots still think that," she said.

"So we're gonna be feelin' our way along, too," Bucky said, running one hand up her side to just beneath her breast. "Literally, I hope."

Jemma hoped so, too, and dragged a finger down the singlet Logan clearly considered appropriate upper body coverage, until she reached the top of his jeans. She paused there, taking in his darkening eyes, and dropped her hand.

"Consider this incentive to get talking," she said, moving Bucky's hand further up.

"You have arrived at the assigned guest suite," a British voice said. She startled, and looked around.

"What?"

"Didn't Stark tell you about the computer that runs this building?" Bucky said. "Asshole. Its – his – name is JARVIS. An electronic butler, or something."

"Oh," Jemma said, surprised, as they steered her through the suite to a couch. "Hello, Mr. JARVIS. I thought you were just a myth."

"I am as real as any Artificial Intelligence," he replied.

"Lovely to meet you… so to speak."

"You too, Dr. Simmons. Your body of work is impressive."

"But… Skye wiped our identities—"

"Mr. Stark had backups of all SHIELD employees' records, those of interest to him."

"Oh."

"Enough of that talk," Logan growled, tugging Jemma over to the three-seater lounge. "I think it's time we all got to know each other."

"Outside of the bedroom, you mean," she said, further overwhelmed by the imposing men either side of her. Logan's grin was almost feral.

"If you think we'd restrict those activities just to the bedroom, you're way off course, sweetheart," he said, the low timbre of his voice going right through her body.

She was in trouble. But it was the best kind.

* * *

**Okay, so this ship was requested by Troodon, who was interested either in these three together or just Jemma/Wolverine. I hope this counts as both, otherwise I'd be compelled to write another one solely Jemma/Wolverine. And that's going into dangerous territory.**

…**And I'm already considering it. Dangerous territory reached. I'll send you a postcard.**

**Please review!**


	47. Lipstick (Darcy x Skye)

"Lipstick"

It was all New Mexico's fault.

Okay, not so much New Mexico as it was Asgard's fault. Thor and his stupid hammer and stupid brother. Which led to it being SHIELD's fault, because everything was SHIELD's fault, including whatever the hell was happening to her iPod.

Darcy contemplated hitting it against the tabletop, but then her phone would probably be next, and she needed that slightly more than her iPod.

She glared at the scrolling messages on the screen, warning her that she was being watched – well, _duh_ – and that a friendly SHIELD agent would be picking her up. It gave her directions to Covent Garden Tube station, like she didn't already know where that was.

Yeah, well, if someone wanted to get her, they could come get her. She'd just finished her coffee and cake, and damned if she was moving.

The map flashed on her iPod screen again, and the music kept changing to songs which were _not_ on any of her play-lists.

"Assholes," she muttered, glaring at a crowd of people across the street. They kept checking her out. Seriously, did they not care that they looked HIGHLY SUSPICIOUS?

'_The people you're watching are HYDRA agents_' was the next message. '_Get out of there before they kill you_'.

Nope. Better the devil in public than the devil in private. Let SHIELD – or whoever it was – put that in their pipe and smoke it. Darcy was staying right where she was. She had her taser and she had witnesses. Plus, she'd already sent a text to Jane telling her about the suspicious-looking people across the road, so Thor would probably be here soon. That was before her stalking-hacker-person decided to warn her. Stable doors already open, guys.

There was a kind of click, a frustrated huff, and then someone was speaking to Darcy through the headphones.

"You seriously need to trust me on this, Darcy, and _move_!"

A split second later, Darcy was on her feet, grabbing her stuff on autopilot, and she hurried towards the Tube station. Her HYDRA stalkers began to follow, of course, and she really hoped the hacker had a brilliant plan. And worked for the good guys, preferably. That would… yeah, that'd be good.

She'd barely made it to the station, wondering what the hell to do now, when she saw some of her stalkers draw weapons. They were blocked by a van coming to a screeching halt in front of Darcy. The door slid open, and an Asian woman held out her hand.

"Get in, Miss Lewis," she said. Darcy let the woman haul her into the back of the van. They were off before the door was even fully closed. She was given a strap to hold onto as the van flew around corners.

"Who are you?" Darcy asked. "Who're you working for?"

"Melinda May, an agent of SHIELD," she said. "I work for Director Coulson."

"Coulson? Same one, or did he really die?"

"His death was temporary."

"Oh."

"Five days temporary."

Darcy blinked. "Shit, really? That's not possible." Agent May gave her a capital-l Look. "Says… the girl who's fought with alien-gods against Dark Elves. Right."

"Part of the reason we had to pick you up."

"Uh… that wasn't you who hacked my iPod, was it?"

"No. That's our hacker."

"Name?" May didn't say anything. "Is this gonna turn into a one-sided conversation?" Again, nothing. "Okay, then. Can I go back to listening to my music?" Still not getting a reply. Darcy texted Jane to let her know that she was sort of okay, and that Coulson was alive. '_Or so they said_', she texted.

But then the bit about Coulson was deleted and her half-finished message sent.

'_Sorry, Miss Lewis, but that's need-to-know basis, and Dr. Foster doesn't need to know_.'

With a frustrated sigh, Darcy returned to her iPod, and waited for the van to stop.

* * *

Skye packed up her laptop as the van came into sight. She shoved it into her knapsack and walked to the edge of the pavement. The door slid open, and she hopped inside, smiling at May and then Darcy Lewis.

"Hey," she said. "Sorry, but it was the only way to communicate with you."

"Skye, sit down," May said. Skye knelt down and grabbed a strap.

"This is the hacker?" Darcy said, jerking a thumb towards Skye. She frowned.

"Yeah, I'm 'the hacker'," she said. "Don't look like it, do I—"

There was gunfire and the van swerved.

"Mack, have you forgotten the bullet-proof coating you and Fitz painted all over the cars?" May shouted.

"Not why I had to swerve!" he called back. He did it again, and Skye fell against Darcy with a startled yelp.

"Whoa," she said, sitting up. She realised where her hands had landed, and blushed, quickly grabbing onto the strap again. "Sorry. I swear, I'm not usually this much of a klutz. And sorry about my hands on… you know… your boobs."

Darcy's smile was slow and flirtatious, and Skye gulped.

"You're welcome to look as well as touch," she said. Skye nearly fell over again. She glanced at May, trying to find words. The older agent raised an eyebrow. She knew Skye's soulmark; then again, she knew everything.

"I'll go up front," she said. "Try to keep your clothes on until you're near a bed."

Skye really hoped she couldn't blush. She gave Darcy an embarrassed smile.

"I'm not gonna jump you," she said. "Not that fast, anyway. And not without your permission."

"I would've thought my words were more than enough permission," Darcy said, eyeing Skye shamelessly. "Tell me we don't have far to go."

"Should be another forty-five minutes," Skye said, pulling out her laptop one-handed. "We'll be able to strap ourselves in properly once there aren't as many turns. In the meantime…"

"In the meantime?" Darcy said slowly. Skye blushed.

"I've gotta wipe our presence from the cameras back there," she said.

"Do you need two hands for that?"

"Ideally."

"Then I can help you."

Skye was about to say that she couldn't explain the process, when Darcy began tugging at her sleeve. It wasn't long before she had Skye caged in her legs, holding the straps, and leaving Skye free to work with both hands.

"How long's that gonna take?" Darcy asked.

"About five minutes. Why?"

"Just thinkin' about how we can pass the time. Where's your soulmark?"

"Um…"

"C'mon, you're gonna show me anyway, aren't you?"

"It's somewhere anyone can see it."

There was silence, no doubt while Darcy was trying to find it. She wouldn't be able to easily…

"You're covering it with makeup?"

"Yeah," Skye confessed. "Otherwise it'd be distracting for everyone else."

"Huh."

"And I'm… kinda worried about it. In relation to wherever your soulmark is."

She felt Darcy grin against the skin of her neck.

"Where do _you _think it is?" Darcy said. Skye found it hard to work, but forced her muscle memory to keep her on track.

"Could be anywhere," she said.

"Anywhere, huh? My boobs?"

"Um… could be."

"My ass?"

"That could be… interesting…"

"My…" She bit Skye's neck. "Girl parts?"

Skye shivered. "I don't know. You tell me."

"Or I could show you."

"Is that… wise?"

"Not while you're workin'. But we don't have to take our clothes off."

Skye's mind continued to reel with the possibilities while 'fixing' the CCTV footage. She also put the police off their trail using pre-recorded video of the van driving in another part of London. Once she'd done all she could to get the cops and HYDRA off their back, she closed up the laptop and put it away. Then she took off her jacket, knelt up and turned around, and pounced on Darcy, cushioning her head at the last moment with the bunched-up jacket.

"You gonna show me, then?" Skye asked. Darcy's eyes were definitely darker now.

"Got any makeup remover?" she said.

"Um… yeah. I do."

"Because we're both gonna need it."

"Why? Where's your mark?"

Before she could pull away, Darcy yanked her down by her hair and crashed their lips together. Skye scrabbled to keep her hands flat on the floor of the van, to avoid crushing her soulmate. There was a faint hum beneath her skin, a tingle starting from her mouth and spreading out. Shocked, she pulled back an inch and stared into Darcy's eyes. There was a glow on her lips, and Skye's jaw dropped.

"Huh," Darcy said. "Both got our soulmarks on the mouth. That's…"

"A lot more innocent than I was thinking," Skye said. Darcy smirked.

"I'll bet it was, you naughty girl," she said.

"Not that I don't want to…"

"Try out some of the things I was implying? Yeah, I'm lookin' forward to that, Skye."

"When… when did you know it was me?" Skye asked between more kisses. Darcy whined softly at the interruption.

"When you spoke to me through my iPod," she said. "That's the only reason I left my spot. I had to find you, even if you were the bad guys. I had to…"

"I'm glad I spoke up, then." Skye kissed her hard. "D'you think, if we kept doing this, the lipstick'd all come off?"

"We can give it the good old college try."

* * *

The van door smoothly opened, revealing Darcy and Skye lying side by side, hair mussed, lips glowing, and clothes askew. They sat up when Phil coughed into his fist, and he inwardly smirked at their guilty expressions. He raised an eyebrow at May, who held her hands up, and Mack, who looked mutinous.

"Last time I'm driving soulmates anywhere," he said. "Is the back of that van seriously becoming a… a…"

"Bordello?" Bobbi suggested.

"Well," Skye said, and she flinched at the stern look May gave her. "We didn't have to take off our clothes?"

* * *

**Semantics. All about semantics.**

**Some of ozhawk's stories have involved Asgardian soulmarks appearing on lips, when they've been first point of contact. At least three chapters so far, if I recall correctly. So I decided to do a femmeslash fic where they both have to wear lipstick so that no one can see their soulmark. Of course, my mind descended into far less innocent territory eventually, because this is me. I tried to keep it clean, and I failed dismally. *Sighs* I apologise if I offended anyone.**

**Please review!**


	48. Under Someone's Covers (Doom x Phil)

**Note: Project TAHITI never existed; Phil never died. I'd say that I prefer it that way, but then there wouldn't be **_**Agents of SHIELD**_**. So torn!**

"Under Someone's Covers"

Making his way around the floor, Phil took the occasional sip of champagne. Just because he only worked half the hours for SHIELD that he used to, didn't mean that he'd stopped altogether.

After New York, the Avengers did everything they could to save him, calling in favours to drag Phil out of his coma and repair the damage Loki had done. Thor brought in a healer from Asgard, Tony consulted Stephen Strange, Bruce pitched in with his skills, and Fury co-ordinated everything necessary to get his one good eye back from death's door. Somehow, it worked. Phil recovered slowly, constantly waving away anyone who wasn't a health professional, including Fury.

Now he was at a masked party – the most interesting kind – and noting anyone who left the room and might be a threat to Hawkeye and Black Widow. They were searching for evidence of illegal activity in Sokovia. They'd kept it from Captain Rogers that they were investigating Baron Wolfgang von Strucker in particular; he was understandably touchy about Nazis.

"We found a claw… thing," Clint murmured over the comms.

"Handle with care," Phil replied, studying a painting on the wall. Using the reflection in his wineglass, he noticed a man in a silver mask approaching.

"Well, duh."

"Don't be cheeky, Barton." He lowered his glass, then turned around, nearly running into the stranger. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I'll just…" He stepped aside, but a strong arm blocked him.

"I startled you, there's no need to apologise."

Phil nearly dropped his glass, and swallowed as his grip tightened.

"I wasn't expecting that," he said.

"Neither was I, but I cannot say that I'm disappointed." The man stroked a finger down Phil's jaw, and he shivered. "Do you like Menzel?"

"Idina Menzel?" Phil smiled slyly. "Love her. Wish I'd seen her on Broadway in the original run of _Wicked_."

"I'm referring to the artist who painted the work behind you."

He chuckled. "I know. It was…"

"A joke. Of course." The man laughed softly. "My mistake."

"I only know that because of the name in the corner, though. I used to think that Leonardo da Vinci was solely an inventor, until someone told me that he'd painted the Mona Lisa. Art is _not_ my strong point."

"I'd be happy to teach you anything you wished to know," the man purred, moving a step closer to Phil. He didn't back off, much as he thought he should.

"Is that right?"

Blue eyes stared down into his. Phil fought hard against running, because he suddenly felt an awful lot like prey.

"Coulson, are you alright?" Natasha said.

"You sound American," the man said.

"So do you."

"I spent some time there. What brings you to Sokovia?"

"The man I wanted to meet," Phil said. "Do you know the baron?"

"We have never met. I was planning to change that this evening. But I must say." He touched Phil's waist. "I cannot object to how things are proceeding."

Phil gulped, and drank half of his remaining champagne.

"Claw's safely packed away," Clint said. "I'm getting it out of here. Natasha's still searching. Who are you talking to?"

"You said you've spent time in America," Phil said. "Do you live in Sokovia, or are you just visiting as well?"

"Visiting." He took a step closer, and they were nearly flush against each other. "I live in Latveria."

"Oh? I've never been there."

"You will," he said. "You're my soulmate. Besides," he chuckled, "a king cannot rule one country while he resides in another indefinitely."

Phil's heart skipped a beat, and not in a good way. "You're the king of Latveria."

"Victor von Doom, at your service. Come." He slid an arm around Phil and steered him out of the room with a strength he couldn't hope to fight, plucking the glass out of his hand and placing it on a passing tray.

"But… Baron von—"

"I will be informed when he is ready to speak with me," Doom said. "We can meet him together. King and future consort."

"You're certainly looking ahead."

"Not too far, I hope." They were out of the ballroom and in the hallway. Uncaring of anyone watching, Doom pressed Phil up against the wall and captured his mouth greedily. Phil made a startled sound, one hand on Doom's chest and the other at his shoulder. Against his better judgement, it crept around to the back of Doom's neck and pulled him closer, keeping him there. The hallway was mostly deserted, and he'd glimpsed Natasha at a window near the top of the stairs. He parted his lips, let his soulmate consume him, even allowed a sneaky hand to creep down the back of his shirt and find its way to skin. Phil shuddered at the intimate touch, light-headed from lack of oxygen, and resorted to breathing through his nose. It was a relief and a disappointment when his mouth was finally released.

"Victor," he moaned softly.

"I don't even know your name," Doom said, his thumb unwittingly pressing against the soulmark. Phil was lucky he hadn't been born with his, or he would've had an awkward time explaining its position – and the implications – to his family.

Name. Ah.

"Well," he said, and he kissed Doom once more, "I could tell you," another kiss, "but that wouldn't be as fun," another, "as making you work for it."

"You refuse to tell me?"

"Wouldn't you rather find out for yourself?" Phil licked the patch of skin just above the V of Doom's shirt. "After all, I could give you a false name. I'm sure you'd prefer to make _absolutely_ sure," he nuzzled Doom's neck, "that you know my identity. Future consort and all."

"Hmm." Doom dug his nails into Phil's skin, and his knees nearly went.

"What's that mean?" he asked.

"I believe I'll accept your challenge," Doom said. His nails bit harder, and Phil barely held in a gasp.

"You have fifteen minutes, or until we're introduced to Baron von Strucker," Phil said. "I'll be waiting here."

"Show me your face."

Phil hesitated, then removed his mask. Doom did the same, and Phil noticed that the rumours about his skin returning to normal were true. He touched the smooth surface, rubbed his cheeks gently.

"So handsome," he murmured. "I'm a lucky guy."

"My fifteen minutes will be up quickly if you continue to distract me," Doom warned. Phil pulled his mask back on, and Doom copied him.

"Get to it, then," he said. Doom smiled, obviously confident, and headed off. As soon as he was out of sight, Phil crept up the stairs to find Natasha.

"What's going on?" she hissed when he joined her in the study.

"Victor von Doom is my soulmate, that's all," Phil said.

"I didn't see that coming," Clint piped up on the comms. "You and Doom? Even Natasha couldn't have seen that."

"I'll never confirm one way or the other," she said.

"No one likes a know-it-all."

"Everyone likes Hermione," Phil said.

"Your fifteen minutes are speeding by," Clint said.

"Oh." Natasha paused over a file. "We need to get down to the basement."

"Why?" Phil said.

"Look." She showed him. He thought.

"New plan," he said.

* * *

Downstairs, he got to the meeting place only a minute before Doom approached him. He pushed Phil up against the wall and kissed him again. Phil could understand why; it was addictive.

"I look forward to burying myself in this," Doom said his hands back on Phil's ass. "So deep you can taste it."

"Fuck, yes," Phil said, arching against him. Natasha was sneaking down the stairs. She shot him an inappropriate thumbs-up, and he chose to nip Doom's neck in misdirected retaliation.

"That's the idea," Doom said, grinding against Phil. "Shall we ask the baron for a room to consummate our bond?"

God yes, he wanted to say. Dangerous reaction. "You wouldn't prefer to wait until the wedding night?"

"Is that an acceptance?"

"Was that a proposal before?"

"I do not have a ring with me; but then I was not expecting to meet my soulmate tonight."

"It'd have to be a pretty precise date as a soulmark for you to know," Phil pointed out.

"I will find you, Charles Martin."

There was a cough. Doom backed off a step, and scowled at the person interrupting them.

"Baron von Strucker will see you now," he said. Doom sighed.

"We are coming," he said.

"'We'?"

"My soulmate and I."

"Oh!"

"Let's go," Phil said, slipping his hand into Doom's.

Strucker wore a monocle, and his bearing screamed military. His supercilious sneer would have made him the perfect choice to cast as a villain in a Hollywood movie. He half-smiled when he saw their linked fingers.

"Newly met?" he asked.

"Yes, Baron," Phil said.

"My soulmate, Charles Martin," Doom said. "I am—"

"Victor von Doom, ruler of Latveria," Strucker said. "I have heard much of you. I must offer my congratulations to you both."

"They agreed," Clint whispered. "Time to leave. Transport's outside. Rescue in t-minus ten seconds."

"What do you do for a living, Mr. Martin?" Strucker asked. Phil cocked his head.

"Actually, it's Coulson," he said, letting go of Doom's hand and stepping back a couple of paces. "Agent Phil Coulson of SHIELD." He shrugged at Doom's shocked expression. "Sorry, sweetheart. Just not our time, is it?"

"SHIELD?" Strucker said quietly.

"And liaison to the Avengers. Including Captain America. Yep."

Then there was a grey blur and people started hitting the floor. Clint and Natasha burst into the room, armed, and shouting for people to stay back. Phil ran towards them, meeting a dark-haired girl with a red glow around her hands part of the way.

"Keep going," she said. "Pietro and I will get out."

"Miss Maximoff, we're not leaving without you."

"And I say we can get out by ourselves. Now go."

He stopped at the door, meeting Doom's eyes. He pulled a few silver balls out of his inner jacket pocket and rolled them along the floor. Wanda ran towards him as more people around the room began to go down. Pietro met them at the door as explosions went off. All five ran out the front, jumped into the Quinjet waiting for them, and flew away from the fortress and out of Sokovia.

Leaving Phil's soulmate behind.

He stared out the window, already mourning the separation, but reminded himself that it was necessary. He couldn't fraternise with the enemy; he'd rather die than betray his people.

"It's not fair," Clint said. Phil met his gaze. "You, getting a supervillain as a soulmate."

"Don't worry," Phil said. "I don't intend to go dark-side just to get laid by…"

"The other half of your soul," Natasha said. He sighed.

"This sucks."

"Thank you for saving us," Wanda said. Phil smiled, tilting his head.

"That's what we do," he said. "We save people, or try to."

"Come with us for the time being," Clint said. "Phil's our liaison for SHIELD; he said he'll assess you on their behalf so you don't have to go in and have their doctors poking and prodding at you."

"Bruce might want to examine you," Phil said. "Bruce Banner, aka the Hulk. He's very familiar with being experimented on, so he'll be careful and considerate, more so than some of the more… enthusiastic scientists at SHIELD."

"And what will your Avengers say when you tell them who your soulmate is?" Pietro asked, glancing at Clint.

"No idea," he said.

"How will you live without him?"

Phil stared out the window.

"The only way I can," he whispered.

* * *

Tony stared out the window.

"You've gotta be kidding me," he said. "Agent!"

"I'm within earshot," Phil said, emerging from the kitchen area with bowls of popcorn. It was movie night – but then most nights were movie nights, as long as people could be dragged away from science.

"Your boyfriend's outside," Tony said as Phil handed bowls to Pietro and Wanda. This was their first movie night with the others; as Tony pointed out, they had a lot to catch up on.

"I don't have a boyfriend," Phil said, kicking Steve's heel to make him shuffle along the sofa.

"Oh, sorry. I mean your _soulmate_." Phil's head jerked up. "He's on the balcony."

He whirled around, and his jaw dropped when he saw that Doom was indeed standing outside.

"I wasn't expecting him," Phil said.

"Not a pre-arranged booty call, then?"

"No!"

"Well, you'd better let him in. Or go outside. Either way, you have to talk, so go do it."

Phil sighed, and JARVIS let him out the door. He stood in front of Doom and waited for him to speak.

"Good evening, Phil."

"Hello, Victor. What can I do for you?"

Doom's eyes shifted.

"I cannot give up my country."

"And I can't give up my work. Looks like a stalemate to me."

"But… I could fly here occasionally. And you could come to Latveria. I could send for you."

"Not terribly practical. As you said when we met, 'a king cannot rule one country while he resides in another indefinitely'. And I have to be near the Avengers, as their handler."

Doom's eyebrows rose. "Verbatim. You remember so much of that night?"

Phil lowered his voice. "I remember every moment I spent with you."

"I wish I knew how much of it was real, and how much was your undercover persona."

"My reactions to you were real. It was… only when I sent you to find out my name. And I prevaricated when it came to my motives for being there and seeing the baron. But pretty much everything else was… was genuine."

"Including those distracting kisses of yours?" Doom said, skimming a hand up Phil's side and inside his jacket.

"P-put it this way. I could've distracted you with conversation."

"But you chose kisses…?"

Phil smiled sadly. "Because I wanted them."

"I cannot possibly persuade you to come to Latveria with me?" Phil shook his head. "Or live there part of the time?"

"No consort could only live with their spouse part of the time. My job isn't the kind where you generally have the option of retiring. I love my work. I do it well. If I _could_ retire someday, I could move to Latveria then. But… you're a dictator."

"I look after my people," Doom said, frowning.

"Yes, but you're still a dictator, and that's a big 'no' for me."

"If I… changed my ways—"

"It still wouldn't be practical unless you abdicated and moved back to America. I'm needed here more than I'm needed anywhere else. Victor… I'm sorry." He stroked his soulmate's cheek. "I really am. If I could change things, I would. But we've hit an impasse."

"Why did Fate give us to each other, then?"

Phil shook his head. "I don't know. But you're the villain, and I'm the guy who works with the heroes."

Doom's face fell, and he sighed, resting his forehead against Phil's.

"I hope to see you again one day," he said.

"Just not on opposite sides of the battlefield."

"May I have a kiss?"

Phil looked into his eyes, always bowled over by their shade of blue. "You never have to ask me for a kiss. Just take it."

Doom did, holding Phil so close, so tightly, that it felt like they could almost melt into one being. Phil's fingers clutched his hair, but Doom had full control. There was nothing but pure emotion as he devoured Phil, like it was their last kiss. It could have been, so Phil let him take everything he needed, taking as much as he could in return. His lips were chapped and he was shivering from the night air by the time Doom released him, and he would've staggered back if his soulmate wasn't still gripping him.

"I do not want to leave," Doom said.

"But you have to," Phil murmured. "Your people will be waiting."

"You cannot be moved?"

"No. I'm so sorry. If I was just some ordinary guy, I'd be with you in a heartbeat. But I'm an agent of SHIELD and handler for the Avengers."

"Which makes it virtually impossible," Doom said quietly.

"As things stand, yes."

"Very well." Doom cupped his cheek, and left Phil with only the one kiss to take to bed with him.

He was in no mood for movie night.

* * *

_Two mornings later_

"Yo," Clint said, perched on the kitchen counter beside Pietro.

"That's not hygienic," Phil said, and he hit them both on the knee with a spatula. "Get off there."

"Good morning to you, too."

"You said 'Yo'. What part of that resembles 'Good morning'?"

"Good morning, sir."

"Good morning, Pietro. See, Clint? Someone around here knows their manners."

"If you're gonna be like that, then I'm not gonna tell you the interesting bit of news I read this morning," Clint said, turning up his nose. Pietro chuckled. There were bets already being placed on whether the two would decide to be platonic or non-platonic soulmates. Wanda couldn't be persuaded to tell.

"I can access news myself, you realise," Phil said.

"Yes, but it concerns your soulmate."

Phil fumbled with the dish he was holding. Pietro got there first and saved it.

"Thank you," he muttered.

"You're welcome. Clint, stop teasing him."

"Fine. JARVIS? You got the article fully translated?"

"Yes, Agent Barton, although I believe the headline says it all."

"Headline?" Phil said, looking around. Sometimes he hated that JARVIS didn't have a physical presence.

"Of Latveria's national newspaper, Agent Coulson. Victor von Doom has abdicated his leadership, and announced his intention to return to America and lead a far more law-abiding life."

"That would also explain his presence on the balcony," Pietro said. "He seems to like it there."

"I think he prefers a less conventional entrance," Clint remarked as Phil turned slowly. Across the room, he saw a familiar figure outside the large windows.

And he smiled.

* * *

**Kira Kyuu, this is for you. Ship requested, ship delivered. More positive ending than 'This Is Not Good'. Don't know how it became this long. And there was supposed to be a reference to going under covers (i.e. bed sheets), but I ended up not including that, so the title is, again, obscure. Le sigh.**

**Please review! Oh, and I've watched **_**Guardians of the Galaxy**_** with my mother now, so… yeah. Some of those pairings previously requested may happen.**


	49. Babble (Fitz x Jemma x Tony)

"Babble"

Tony wasn't sulking. JARVIS said he was, but he wasn't. Just because Agent turned out to be _alive_ all this… most of this time, and was now director of New SHIELD, and never thought to _tell_ them about it…

No. Tony wasn't sulking. He wasn't even avoiding Coulson and his team since they moved in. Nope. He just never happened to be in the same place as them (especially Coulson) at the same time. Pure coincidence.

"Sir, I have been instructed not to report on Director Coulson's movements to you, nor the rest of his team," JARVIS said. Tony dropped a wrench on his foot.

"Why?" he asked, hopping over to a stool. "Who instructed you?"

"Miss Potts, sir, on account of the fact that you are avoiding the agents of SHIELD."

"I'm not—"

"Shall I play you the video message she sent?"

"…What?"

"Tony." A virtual Pepper appeared. "This is ridiculous. You have to make your peace with Phil. Just because he doesn't say it, doesn't mean he isn't hurt that you're avoiding him."

"Not like we were friends," he muttered.

"Of course you were friends," she said. He scowled, peeved that she knew him so well. "Be happy that he's alive, and that someone's trying to rebuild SHIELD, this time without HYDRA involved. Phil gave his life so you'd all pull together, and I can tell he regrets letting you know that he wasn't dead. If you're not careful he's going to leave us again, and we won't be able to protect him, or his people. They deserve better treatment than this. Now go apologise to them." The video disappeared, and Tony sighed.

He hated it when she was right.

Unfortunately, JARVIS had also been instructed by Pepper not to make it easy for Tony by just revealing people's locations. It was like some twisted, sadistic version of hide-and-go-seek, and he was swearing under his breath as he headed to the common area. Logic said that there was a good chance at least one of them would be there. His second bet would be the gym and sparring area, then the range, then… well, probably the labs. He knew of Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons by reputation, and they had full access to most of the research and development area. And the mechanic on the team would probably be tinkering in the garage, so that was another place to check. He couldn't remember which residential floors he'd rented to them.

Another thing to feel lousy about. Coulson had insisted on paying for their board. It was at a highly reduced price, of course, but since Agent… sorry, _Director_ was being stubborn, and since Tony was still terrified of Natasha Romanov, he made sure to keep rent low. He probably should've been less grudging about offering the spaces and everything rent-free; that might've rubbed Coulson up the wrong way.

The whole damn thing was his father's fault. If Howard hadn't insisted on funding SHIELD all along, Tony wouldn't feel so obliged to continue that support. That stopped after the old organisation fell, and he'd felt disinclined to start again. He probably should've reinstated the Stark legacy set aside for SHIELD. He would look less of an asshole then. He wouldn't have to put up with Steve's disapproving looks, Clint's sullen silence, and Natasha sharpening her knives at every turn. Not to mention Thor's obvious disappointment in him, which _sucked_, it was like kicking an injured dog.

"I hate soul-searching, JARVIS," Tony said.

"So I noticed, sir."

"And don't call me 'sir' in that tone of voice, young man."

"You installed this tone of voice on me. Sir."

Just what he needed. A bratty teenager for an AI.

The only member of Coulson's team who was lounging in the living area was his second-in-command.

"Hey," he said, sauntering down the steps and leaning over the sofa behind Clint. "So, what's up, Bird-Brain?"

Clint flashed him the finger. "Just swapping anecdotes with May. She and Nat never got to work together, so watching them spar is… magical."

"Magical?" Natasha said, bumping his thigh with her foot. "Really, Barton?"

"I stick by that word. You'd prefer 'fascinating' or 'spell-binding'? Those could work, too. I'm a sniper, not an orator."

"Where's Agent? I mean, Director Coulson?" Tony asked. May narrowed her eyes.

"Now you want to see him?" she said.

"Well, it's not like we have much to talk about, but I guess we should put past differences behind us. So where is he?"

"Out."

"Where?" She didn't reply. "C'mon. I just wanna talk to him."

"We don't know," Natasha eventually said. "He went out shopping. Ostensibly."

"Which means he could be working," Clint said. "Only call if it's an emergency."

"What constitutes an emergency?"

"Not whatever your reason is for getting your head out of your ass, which probably has more to do with Pepper than any personal reflection."

"Screw you, Katniss," Tony mumbled.

"Go to the labs," Natasha said. "FitzSimmons have been waiting to meet you. They think you're snubbing them, and they're blaming themselves." She gave Tony the deathiest Death Glare he'd ever received. "They're good kids. Go put them out of their misery."

"Moping FitzSimmons is bad," May said. "I don't like it, which means you won't like what happens if it continues." Her eyes narrowed just the slightest bit, and Tony high-tailed it out of there. In the most dignified manner possible.

Tapping his foot on the floor as he took the elevator to the labs, he wondered what FitzSimmons would be like. They were probably still bubbling over with childish enthusiasm. A quick visit, then; he doubted he could stomach all that optimism for too long, no matter how great their ideas might be. And he was confident they'd be full of great ideas. Hell, it'd be interesting to watch two soulmates from different fields working together on the same projects.

The doors slid open, and he searched until he found the pair of scientists bent over a table, arguing their opposing points of view as they pointed at different parts of a holograph. He watched, strangely entertained, as they spoke at rapid-fire over the top of each other, both somehow responding to what the other was saying. It was kind of beautiful.

He walked in and cleared his throat. They looked over at him, mouths open like they were about to tell him off, but then they froze. Tony grinned; he'd seen the star-struck look before, usually induced it himself. He moved a few steps closer.

"So this is where the Dynamic Duo of science can be found," he said, leaning his elbows on the table and starting to play with the holograph. "Do I need to introduce myself?"

They looked at each other, then back to him. The woman spoke first, and the man swiftly followed.

"Oh my God, I can't believe this—"

"It's you, it can't be you—"

"But it's such an honour to meet you—"

"And we're your biggest fans, really—"

Tony held up his hands, and they shut their mouths instantly. That was where his soulmarks ended anyway, it wasn't just to keep his ears safe and brain on track.

"Okay, nice to meet you," he said, and he lowered his hands. "You're my soulmates. Wow. Now I'm wishing we'd met sooner."

"We haven't been here all that long, really," the woman – Simmons? – said. He nodded.

"I've still been a shitty host. Can't believe I got you two as soulmates. It's like being rewarded for bad behaviour. I promise." Hand on his heart. "I'll be better."

"You must have a hell of a lot of writing on you," Fitz said. "I can't remember half of what we said."

"Well." Tony gave them his best bedroom eyes, and saw them swallow. "I could show you. Always wondered why they seemed fragmented. I figured I'd meet the two of you at the same time. For you to be formidable scientists instead of groupies? Better than expected." He grinned as he stood up. "I'm familiar with your academic careers—"

"Really?" Simmons said.

"But not your first names. Everyone calls you FitzSimmons."

"Leo Fitz, but everyone calls me Fitz, can't stand my first name," the man said, and Tony shook his hand, then the woman's.

"Jemma Simmons. It really is lovely to meet you, Mr. Stark."

"Hey, I'm your soulmate. It's Tony."

"You have the best equipment we've ever used," Fitz said, wide-eyed. Tony snorted.

"Wait `til you play with my _other_ equipment," he said, leering, and Fitz turned bright red.

"I didn't mean… I meant…"

"Oh, Fitz," Jemma said, smiling at him sympathetically. "You really do have a terrible habit of using double entendres accidentally."

"I can't help it!"

"And I fully intend to exploit that, if you're gonna blush so prettily every time," Tony said, stroking Fitz's blazing hot cheek. "How about you both come up to the penthouse with me, and we can all get to know each other, hmm?"

"My parents will want you to ask their permission before, um, taking me to bed," Jemma said. Now she was turning pink-cheeked. Tony was going to have so much fun with these two. "They had enough trouble with Fitz."

"Nowhere near the amount of trouble you had with my mum," Fitz said.

"It was _still_ pretty terrible…"

"No bed or bonding without parental permission," Tony said. "Got it. But I've got the comfiest sofa in the tower, and it folds out with footrests, so what do you say?"

"I'm there," Jemma said, switching off the holographic table.

"Me too," Fitz said.

* * *

Shopping for ties was possibly the most relaxing activity Phil could do right now, even if he didn't have the same clothing allowance he used to. But he'd found a couple of factory outlets, and stocked up with a few different colours and patterns. He made note of the locations so that he could bring the team out sometime, maybe if Talbot came through with the promised additional funds for New SHIELD. They could do with a little shopping trip as a reward for putting up with Tony Stark snubbing them.

Phil couldn't blame Stark for being unable to forgive him, but that was _no_ excuse to take it out on the rest of his team, most of whom had been looking forward to meeting the Avengers, and especially Stark and Banner. The doctor was in Cambodia at the moment, but Simmons was still excited about the prospect of meeting Stark.

Then the reality of his attitude hit them. Or at least Phil hoped it did. Ridiculous, the way Stark was stringing this out. It was unacceptable, childish behaviour, and if he could just _find_ Stark he'd call him out on it.

He was glad that he wasn't baby-sitting the Avengers. Every day another headache.

Finishing his coffee, Phil threw the paper cup into a nearby – alright, thirty yards away – trash can, and half-smiled when it went straight in without even bouncing off the edge. Not a big thing, but enough to lighten his mood just a little. He almost skipped on his next step, and had to pull himself back at the last moment before he could bump into an older lady walking along with a laughing child. Phil smiled, and raised his head. He caught the eyes of a stranger in a hoodie. There was barely a moment to notice anything about him before the stranger tripped. Phil was there instantly, barring his waist with an arm to prevent him falling.

"There are safer ways to say hello to the pavement," he quipped, and felt the man's laughter as he straightened, the hood slightly askew.

And then Phil was staring at the quintessential blue-eyed angel that put Steve Rogers to shame. He had cheekbones sharp enough to cut himself on, curly blond hair which was short at the sides but threatened to fall into his eyes at the front. Phil bet his features would shine in the sunlight, and wanted to reach out and touch those pink lips, see if this man could possibly be real.

"Isn't today my luckiest day?" the blond said. When Phil processed his words, he nearly fell back.

"What?" he said.

"Those are your words, aren't they?"

"Well… yes." Phil smiled. "Yes, they are."

"Then I stick to it that I'm lucky."

"But… why? You're stunning. You're… a dream in human form. Or humanoid, I'm not closing my mind to any possibilities, because you can't possibly be a hundred percent human, I've never seen anyone like you before, and… Shit, you can't let my mouth run away like that."

"Why not?" the man said, grinning. "You're very good for the self-esteem."

"I can't think why."

"Sir… I've been waiting my entire life for you. You know how long that is." Phil nodded, slightly ashamed. "Fate gave us to each other for some reason, and I want to find out what that is. Since I'm guessing you wouldn't just be happy with a platonic bond, I say we go somewhere and get to know each other a little better."

"Where?" Phil said, somewhat dazed.

"I mostly live on Long Island, but I visit Canada frequently."

"I'm staying in New York at the moment, so—"

"Long Island it is. We can pick something up on the way."

"I should probably ask you your name."

"You probably should."

Phil rolled his eyes, unable to stop smiling. "I'm Phil."

"Pleased to meet you, Phil. I'm Warren."

* * *

Over breakfast the next day, Tony couldn't stop smirking every time he looked at his soulmates. They'd talked to Fitz and Jemma's families over Skype, with Tony promising to take care of his soulmates, marry them as soon as possible, and provide them with everything they needed. Before they'd woken up, he'd also paid off their families' mortgages, student debts, any money owed, and arranged for better home security.

An alert had popped up half an hour later from a baffled Pepper. When he explained the situation, she'd nearly ruptured his eardrums with her squealed congratulations.

So he'd been able to take Jemma and Fitz to bed that night, Jemma clinging to him from the front and Fitz plastered against his back as they bonded. He didn't care that some people might think he was rushing. He'd waited too damn long to find his soulmates, and like hell was he going to go another day without being bonded to them. He wanted to be able to find them if something happened, and the best way was to have that soul-deep connection.

"Does anyone know where Phil is?" Clint asked, frowning as he looked at his phone.

"Yes," May said. That was it. No explanation. Clint's eyes narrowed further.

"Well, where is he?"

"Classified."

"Oh, come _on_," Clint said, setting his phone down and playing with his cereal. "This is ridiculous. He's our _friend_."

"I didn't get that impression."

"Well, he _is_, and I'm concerned."

She pursed her lips as she spread more jam over her toast. "He found his soulmate."

"Really?" Jemma said, perking up. Tony noted a love-bite on her neck, and tried to remember whether it was him or Fitz who gave it to her. "Who is it?"

"No one you know."

"Can't we even have a name?"

"No."

"_Please_?"

"Let him have this for once. He'll introduce you when he's ready."

"What if it's a trap?" Clint said. May rolled her eyes.

"It's not a trap, Barton," she said.

He kept pestering her, to no avail, until Coulson finally joined them. He shuffled past, in what might've been yesterday's clothes – they looked rumpled enough – and went straight to the fridge.

"Good morning, sir!" Jemma called.

"Morning, Simmons. May told me; congratulations to you both."

"Thank you, sir," Fitz said.

"Uh, Agent… I mean, Director Coulson," Tony began.

"Relax, Mr. Stark," Coulson said. "I'll be out of your hair soon."

"What?"

"Are we moving on?" Jemma asked, sounding distressed. Skye walked up to them, and her jaw dropped.

"We're _leaving_?" she said. "We only just got here!"

"_I'm_ leaving," Coulson said. "I'll still see you around. FitzSimmons are staying with Mr. Stark, of course, and anyone else is welcome to stay. I've been offered alternative accommodation for New SHIELD, and I'll be staying there myself."

"Where?" Tony said. Coulson didn't look at him.

"The company already sponsors another semi-covert organisation on the right side of the law," he continued. "My soulmate has been insistent, and," he smiled softly, "I can't say no to him. His father approves, which is a plus. So." He opened a bottle of sports drink and took a gulp. "I'll be moving out."

"You don't have to," Tony said, stepping in front of him. Coulson raised an eyebrow.

"I'd be more comfortable if I did."

"Look, I've been an asshole, but I'm trying to change that. I know you have that… thing where you're renting the rooms—"

"It was obvious that you weren't happy with the arrangement, so I did what I could to make it easier on you."

"I was pissed at you, not your team, and it wasn't fair—"

"I understand your feelings, Mr. Stark, really, I do. It's better for everyone if I leave—"

"No, it isn't! I don't want to drive you out—"

"Stop!" Coulson's glare was so fierce that Tony actually took a step back. "Stop making this all about you, Mr. Stark, and try to consider others. My team doesn't deserve a frosty atmosphere, and I wasn't welcomed here in the first place, if ever. Now I've found my soulmate, and the best thing is for us to be together, so I'm also thinking about _him_."

"Bring him to live here, then," Tony said. Coulson just walked around him.

"Can't," he said. "He's the CEO."

"CEO?" Skye said, her eyes bulging. "Of what?"

Coulson smirked, rubbing the back of his head. "The company which will be supporting New SHIELD."

"It's Stark Industries' responsibility to bankroll SHIELD," Tony said. He was aware that he was dangerously close to whining, but he felt compelled to push this, by Pepper, by his soulmates, by the memory of an unassuming agent who died to save them all.

"Dawn of a new age. Do you recall saying that it was now _my_ responsibility to clean up HYDRA's mess, and that I couldn't expect any help other than a roof over our heads?"

…Okay, so Tony had said that.

"I was an ass," he said softly. "I was hurt, probably my pride worse than anything. I'm… grateful that you came back. If you hadn't, it would've been a lot longer before I met my soulmates. I know they've been in danger, but you've done your damnedest to keep them alive. I'm gonna do what I can to continue that. Just… you'll be hurting a lot of people if you leave us."

Coulson was silent, staring stonily at him.

"If I took my team away again, took FitzSimmons with me and left you behind, how would you all feel?"

"You can't do that!"

"But it's perfectly alright for you to separate me from _my_ soulmate?"

Tony had no answer for that, and Coulson damn well knew it. He left with a nod to each of his team-mates. Tony sank back into his chair, burying his head in his hands. He looked at his soulmates through the gaps between his fingers.

"You deserve better than me," he said.

"Director Coulson's right," Jemma said. "I'm sure if you had approached him before he met his soulmate, things would turn out differently. You're trying to make it up to him."

"Anyone who stays here has my full support, financial, medical… everything. I have to make up for this somehow."

"It'll take time to get Coulson's trust back," Fitz warned. "He doesn't really trust any of you. Not even Barton and Romanov, and he's known them the longest."

"It's my fault—"

"No, it isn't," Jemma said. "Just be patient, and everything will work out in the end."

"I'm going with Phil," May said.

"So am I," Skye added. "It's nice here, but where DC goes…"

"You know we're here for you, Tony," Jemma said, looking at him doe-eyed. He sighed.

"I need to go brush my teeth," he said. "Then I'm going to my workshop. If you two," he pointed at his soulmates, "join me there ASAP, we can make sweet, sweet science together. What d'you say?"

It was the only way he could take his mind off things. And considering how flexible and imaginative his soulmates were, he figured it'd be a pretty good distraction. Especially for Jemma, until Bruce got back.

* * *

Despite his promise, they didn't see much of Phil until a few months later, for Fitz, Jemma, and Tony's wedding. He showed up in the secure ballroom at Stark Tower looking like he'd stepped out of a magazine. Naturally, Fitz and Tony were wearing the best suits, well-cut, and Jemma was wearing a pastel blue dress which ended just below her knees. And all their guests were required to make a splash, because it was a family occasion.

But no one could deny that the director of SHIELD was dressed to the nines.

"I tried to tone it down," he murmured to Pepper. "But there's only so much I can do, and I was told – on pain of puppy-dog eyes and abstinence – not to wear one of my old suits."

"Where's your soulmate?" she asked. "We haven't met him yet."

"This is FitzSimmons and Stark's big day; he's taking another way in to avoid notice."

"Oh." Pepper frowned. "But he _will_ be here?"

Phil smiled. "He's just walked in the room." And he gestured discreetly. Pepper's jaw dropped.

"But that's—!"

The wedding march began, and Phil slung an arm around his soulmate's waist as Jemma, Fitz, and Tony moved to the front. Pepper stopped gaping, and instead reached for a small packet of tissues as she watched her former boss and his two soulmates tie the knot.

Tony hadn't completely turned around and started behaving like a caring human being all the time. But Fitz and Jemma tempered that, and he certainly behaved better in front of them. Productivity had increased to alarming levels, especially when Bruce returned and began working with Jemma. Shares in Stark Industries had skyrocketed, and Tony had started attending board meetings regularly, mainly because he trusted Fitz to continue working on their joint projects while Tony 'wasted' his time with gab-fests. Jemma had hinted to Pepper that she planned to attend board meetings as well after the wedding, which made Pepper's whole year. Whatever it took to keep things running smoothly.

She smiled through her tears as Tony kissed Fitz and then Jemma, grinning as FitzSimmons kissed each other to complete the triad. The three's joyous laughter was nearly smothered by the cheering and applause from the guests.

It was a wonderful day.

* * *

**I loved 'deathiest Death Glare'. Then I realised that it should be 'deadliest Death Glare', but 'deathiest' is more amusing.**

**So I decided to make Tony panic by having Phil meet his soulmate, who turned out to be able to support SHIELD as much as Tony, and without the axe to grind. I'm sure you can work out who it is, based on my hints. ;) If you can call them hints, and not bludgeoning you across the face. Hmm.**

**Must stop letting secondary pairings take over innocent chapters! Gah!**

**Please review. It's been raining today, which I love, but I wish the rain would go to where it was needed, i.e. the farmers, not the inner city suburbs. Sigh.**


	50. Two Hermiones (Jemma x Natasha)

**If I have to explain who Hermione Granger is… sigh. She's a character from the Harry Potter series, for those somehow not in the know.**

"Two Hermiones"

There were rumours that a new SHIELD was rising. Maria was saying nothing, no matter what Natasha tried, which was a personal blow to her self-esteem. Clint said that he didn't care anymore, that he just wanted to get on with his post-SHIELD life. That without Coulson having their back, it didn't matter. She'd known he took it badly, but hadn't realised the extent until he dropped off the radar long before HYDRA-Gate.

What she told Steve was true. She only pretended to know everything. Clint used to joke that she was like Sherlock Holmes, that she could work out a person's entire life story from tiny details. She pointed out that they were trained to be observant, and that he could do it with practise.

Natasha's talent was making contacts and getting information. She used all her skills to search for any suspicious activity in the intelligence community. Sharon Carter had gone to the CIA, and promised to let Natasha know anything that she could, but that was just another way of saying that she'd keep whatever secrets she had to without question. And that just wasn't good enough.

She'd skulked in one place long enough, perhaps longer than was wise. That was confirmed when an Asian woman in black leather clothes walked up to her. Natasha had seen her before, even though they'd never spoken, and tensed, ready for a fight.

"You'd better come with me, Miss Romanov," she said.

"Who are you?" Natasha asked, expecting an alias.

"Agent Melinda May of SHIELD."

"You're the Ca—"

"Don't call me the Cavalry. You want answers? You follow me."

With no other choice, she followed Agent May. She considered notifying Clint, but he was still touchy about the subject, and she had a feeling that this opportunity to gain information would quickly disappear if she made a wrong move.

"What's the deal?" Natasha asked after they entered a building. May gave her a look which shut her up. She waited until they were through a secure doorway – with a voice system that sounded an awful lot like Phil Coulson – to try again. "Is SHIELD back up and running? Does Fury know? How are you vetting new agents?"

"I thought you knew everything, like Hermione Granger," May said, leading her through corridors which all looked the same.

"How else do I find information unless I ask the right questions?" Natasha riposted. May half-smiled.

"So you were out there on a _hunch_?" she said.

"No." Natasha was offended. "I used what information I could find to draw the right conclusions."

"We laid the trail for you to put the pieces together."

She nearly walked into a wall. "What?"

"The director felt it was time for you to be let in on the secret, assuming you know how to keep your mouth shut until the right time. He trusts you."

"But that doesn't mean _you_ have to," Natasha guessed. May nodded. "Who's the director?"

"You'll see soon enough."

"Is he trustworthy?"

May arched an eyebrow as they rounded a corner. "Fury appointed him personally."

"He did?" They entered a large garage area, with a few cars and a couple of planes, as well as other equipment. It was like an industrial-sized version of Tony Stark's garage, with fewer vintage cars. There was only one of those here.

"He's around somewhere," May said, her eyes constantly on the move. Natasha frowned.

"Who would Fury trust enough to rebuild SHIELD from the ground?" she asked.

"You tell me."

"Male, so not Maria. I know his first choice would've been…" She trailed off, swallowing. "But he's dead, so—"

"Who?" May asked.

Natasha wanted to say it, but she couldn't. Something in May's eyes, though, seemed to be challenging Natasha. To guess the director's identity? Fury, the spymaster, the lie-master…

Lies…

"Phil," she whispered. May's head jerked imperceptibly. Natasha drew in a shaky breath, and began to run. Searching behind and inside vehicles. Keeping her feet light and her eyes sharp, until she heard familiar footsteps. She nearly skidded around a tall cage and saw him.

"Hello, Natasha."

Bastard.

Natasha ran at him, not sure where to strike first. In the end, she threw her arms around his shoulders and held on, fully aware of the tears spilling from her eyes and unable to give a damn. Phil Coulson was alive, and he was here, and he was holding her, stroking her hair and whispering reassurances. She wanted to hit him, to hate him, but… she couldn't. Because it was Coulson, and he wasn't dead anymore.

"It's okay," he murmured. "It's okay. Don't cry, Natasha."

"I'm not crying."

He chuckled wetly. "Of course not. Neither am I."

* * *

It took a few hours, a lot of water (and some vodka), and many questions before Natasha had the full story from Phil. They sat side-by-side on a sofa, not quite touching but still close. She needed the nearness to make sure that this wasn't a dream.

"You could've come to us," she said after he finished, and helped himself to another glass of water. "We would've helped you."

"And said what?"

"What you just told me?"

"How about you help me write the Cliff's Notes version," he said, that sparkle of humour still there despite everything life – and Fury – had thrown at him. "God, I missed you, Natasha. It feels right, having you here now."

"You won't let me tell the others?"

"I don't… I don't know how. I wasn't even sure how you'd react."

"Did you intend to gauge their reactions based on mine?"

He winced. "Maybe?"

"_Phil_."

"All of you have trust issues."

"But we love you."

He gave her a strange look. "What?"

"Barton and I, you're part of our family. Thor considers you a friend—"

"So Lady Sif told me."

"And Pepper mourned you. Hey." She elbowed him. "Captain Rogers still has your cards. He signed them a little late, but he has them with him all the time. I asked him why, after I found out, and he said that it reminded him of why he had to fight."

"Shit." He looked pained. "Now I can't reveal myself."

"Yes, you can. Bucky Barnes is alive; I don't think Steve would take it too badly if it turned out that you'd survived, as well."

"If you can call this survival." He cocked his head. "Dictionary definition of survival, I suppose. Now go." He nudged her. "Have a look around the base. I already cleared you with the Koenig brothers, so you shouldn't be bothered for a lanyard. After all, we use the lie detector Fury built."

"The one I can't beat?"

"That's the one." She reached the door before he spoke again. "_Did_ you beat it?"

She smiled mysteriously, and he chuckled.

Phil had told her everything about his team, so she recognised them on sight. Bobbi Morse she'd met, of course, but she'd never met Hunter. When she saw them emerge from a room completely dishevelled, she just rolled her eyes, and waved as she passed. The curly-haired engineer with his soulmate, the tall mechanic – hell, he was taller than _Thor_ – stopped talking when she approached them to say hello. She didn't linger, not eager to cause Fitz any stress. No sign of the other members of the team, but she knew where one of them might be. The English genius who preferred studying to socialising.

Sure enough, she was in one of the labs, examining something through a microscope. Natasha silently perched on a stool and watched the pretty young woman as she pushed a clump of hair out of the way, before turning one of the knobs. She pulled back to make a note on a tablet, and Natasha cleared her throat. Dr. Simmons jumped with a squeak, and turned around. She gaped, her gaze travelling up and down Natasha's body.

"You're the Hermione of the team, aren't you?" Natasha said. She wasn't expecting the doctor to gasp and then back into the bench. She turned to steady the flasks, and Natasha noticed the way her hands trembled. She slipped off the stool and went to stand next to the jumpy agent. "I'm sorry. I should've made more noise when I entered the room. I didn't want to disturb you." Simmons shook her head. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No, don't!" Natasha arched an eyebrow.

"I'm not _that_ exciting to have around when there's science happening," she said. The young woman face-palmed.

"I should've said something more interesting," she muttered to herself. Then she met Natasha's eyes. "Um… I don't suppose you have 'No, don't!' written on your body?"

Natasha immediately went on the defensive. "That's classi… fied." Her eyes widened as Simmons took a step back. "Why do you ask?"

She sighed. "Because you said my soulmark… that's all."

"Show me." Natasha flinched when she recognised the sharpness in her tone. "I mean, please. May I see it?"

"Oh. That's, uh, a bit awkward." Jemma – Natasha had to use her first name, they were soulmates – blushed. "Um…" She closed the blinds and faced away from the security camera, before unbuttoning her blouse. Natasha absently licked her lips, and Jemma fumbled a button. But she continued until the front was open, and then pulled down the left cup of her bra. Natasha's breath caught, and she smiled slowly. Jemma went to cover herself, and Natasha grabbed her wrist.

"Don't," she said. "Do you have makeup remover?"

"There… there are tissues over there."

Natasha plucked a couple from a box. She moistened a patch and wiped off as much of her lipstick as she could, displaying the words on her lips.

"How sensitive is your skin?" she asked, licking the last bit away.

Jemma was on her in an instant. They were nearly the same height, and Natasha definitely had more muscle on her, but she was pressed against a bench within seconds, outside of the dominant role. She didn't care either way, and chalked it up to enthusiasm as Jemma tilted their heads, cupping Natasha's cheeks in her hands. Natasha pushed the blouse open, crossed her arms behind Jemma's back, and pulled her closer. Jemma moaned softly, and Natasha broke the kiss.

"Want to take this somewhere else?" she asked.

"I… I need to put the samples away first…"

"You do that. I'd better call Phil. Tell him I'm in."

"In?"

Natasha smiled, and tucked a curl of Jemma's hair back, lingering on her earlobe. "What do you think? SHIELD, sweetheart. So I can be with you."

Jemma's smile was radiant.

* * *

**Needed something nice and sweet and single-shipped.**

**When I watched **_**Cap 2**_** with my mother recently, Natasha's line about only pretending to know everything made me think of Hermione Granger being called a know-it-all. Then there was Simmons' comment in the pilot of **_**AoS**_** about not being Hermione. I figured that it might've been a nickname, and decided it'd be cute to bring the two of them together with a soulmark containing 'Hermione'.**

**Natasha can't be a hundred percent cold. We've seen her shaken too many times for her to be completely stoic. I hope she doesn't seem too OOC in this, but I just… love the thought of her breaking down when she finds out that Coulson is alive.**

**Please review!**


	51. Honestly Sincere (Darcy x Steve)

"Honestly Sincere"

Ever since she hit puberty, Darcy had insisted on seeing every production of _Bye-Bye Birdie_ that she could get to. Community theatre groups were the best places, as long as she could get front row seats, because sometimes the guy playing Conrad Birdie would break the fourth wall and sing to women in the audience. No one had sung to Darcy yet, but she was confident that it'd happen someday. It had to; her soulmark said so.

'_If you feel it in here then it's gotta be right, oh, baby!_'

She'd first heard the words when her sister made her watch the movie, and they both recognised Darcy's soulmark. In later years, when nothing came of spending too much money on seeing musicals, she checked Google, and still just came up with the lyrics for 'Honestly Sincere'. So she continued to pour her hard-earned cash into the performing arts, saw enough productions to have the whole damn thing memorised, as well as memorising the movie, and continued to miss finding her soulmate.

"Just let it happen," her mother advised.

"Save your money for something else," her father added. Thanks, guys, real helpful.

Darcy wasn't going to sit around and wait for her soulmate to come to her. She was gonna go out and find him. Or her, no point in discriminating.

She even applied for the internship because there was gonna be a production of _Bye-Bye Birdie_ in New Mexico, so she tried to kill two birds with one stone. Science credits and possible soulmate-finding. Instead, Jane hooked herself a hot god, then a big robot crushed the theatre, and bang went another chance.

* * *

"I wanna test that memory of yours," Tony said, pushing Steve into the armchair. "So we're gonna watch a few movies, see how much you can remember."

"What're you hoping to achieve?" Steve asked, raising his eyebrows as Tony switched on the TV and brought up the movies menu.

"Call it an experiment."

"Uh—"

"JARVIS is still searching for your buddy-boy. Meanwhile, you've gotta keep your faculties sharp, Grandpa."

"I wasn't much younger than your father, when I knew him," Steve said. Tony didn't react to the mention of Howard, which was… probably a good sign. Hopefully.

"I stick by it, old-timer," he said. "You're gonna watch _Singin' in the Rain_, because it's a classic, and you'll probably know some of the music."

"Music?"

"Yep. You're gonna watch a range of movies, starting with musicals." He strapped an arm band around Steve's left biceps. "Shit, is this stuff made of steel?" He knocked on Steve's arm, and the captain gave him a dirty look.

"Not exactly the most appropriate comment under the circumstances," he said. Tony half-winced.

"Sorry," he said. "Wasn't thinking. There." He stood back. "I'll sit through the first one with you. Hey, I even brought popcorn!"

"I know. I can smell it."

"Right. Super-senses. So." Tony plonked down beside Steve and handed him a large bag of freshly-popped popcorn, then picked up a much smaller one for himself. "This is to see how much of the dialogue you remember, plus music and dancing."

"No pressure, in other words."

"Just enjoy!"

"I can't 'just enjoy' if I'm concentrating on memorising."

"Do you ever have to concentrate to memorise something? Since the serum, I mean?"

Steve thought about it. "If I do, I don't notice it."

After watching _Singin' in the Rain_, Tony dragged Steve downstairs to one of the empty floors. There, he found a recreation of the scene for the title song, right down to the lamp-post.

"And it's reinforced," Tony said. "Sprinklers, JARVIS." It began to rain on the scene, and Tony handed Steve an umbrella. "Not superstitious about opening umbrellas inside, are you?"

"No," Steve said, staring at it. "Tony…"

"Get into position. JARVIS, cue the music."

"Music cued, sir. Awaiting your word, Captain Rogers."

"Jesus Christ," Steve muttered. He allowed himself the blasphemy, and strode to one end of the set. "Okay, JARVIS."

Damned if he was gonna give Tony the satisfaction of only remembering part of the routine.

Although, after he performed the whole thing flawlessly, he wondered what kind of humiliation Tony had in mind, when he turned and gave a camera the thumbs-up.

"You know I can't sing all that well," Steve said, rubbing the back of his wet neck.

"You were in tune, and didn't do a bad impression of Kelly's voice," Tony said. "You sure you never had any dance training?"

"No," Steve said softly, remembering his missed date with Peggy. "Never danced a step in my life."

"Well." Tony clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm impressed. Next, you get to do a recreation of the whole film. Kidding, kidding! You're too tall to play Debbie Reynolds, and your vocal register is too low for Lina Lamont. Still… wanna try the 'Make `Em Laugh' number?"

"Lemme dry off first."

* * *

It became a routine. At least it got Tony out of his workshop for a few hours. Tony would make Steve watch a movie musical he'd never seen, then get him to recreate one or more of the solos in the ever-changing room. Steve was worried that Tony was compiling all of the clips to release them online. 'Science experiment'? Ha. A likely story.

The latest was the night Thor's human friends joined them. Steve had never met any of them, although he'd answered Thor's phone for him once and spoken to Jane Foster while Thor mopped up the milkshake he'd spilled when the cell phone's loud ring startled him.

Tony had arranged the movie viewing earlier than usual, and then forced Steve through the indignity of performing 'How Lovely to Be a Woman' and 'One Last Kiss' from _Bye-Bye Birdie_ before releasing Steve to get showered and dressed.

He was still humming as he went to the kitchen for a snack. His high metabolism was getting a real workout these days. Not so much today, since the routines hadn't been complicated. But hanging around with Tony Stark for a few hours each day, even though it was mostly watching a film, was enough to drain him of emotional energy, and that manifested itself as a hunger for comfort food. He was rifling through the cabinet for the cookies he'd baked after his run that morning, and found that Clint had moved them _again_. Probably taken half of them into his nest. Good thing nary a rat was to be seen around Stark Tower, or they'd have needed to call in the Pied Piper a long time ago.

"Clint, you're gonna be in trouble," he said, walking through to the common area, where he could hear chatter and laughter. Then he saw that the cookies had been put on a plate, and people were helping themselves, including their visitors. He caught Clint's eyes, and the archer shrugged, before signing 'Not my doing this time'.

"Yo, Rogers!" Tony called out. "I was just telling the others about your sweet dance moves." Was it a crime to strangle Tony Stark? "Wanna show `em something?"

"I'm not dancing," he said flatly.

"So don't dance. But your singing is heaps better, and we all wanna hear it."

"It only sounds better because I copy the singers!"

"Charlie Chaplin did that once," Tony said. Steve rolled his eyes. "C'mon. What about the movie we watched today? Don't tell me you weren't humming before."

"Yeah, c'mon, Steve," Natasha said. "Have you watched an Elvis film? Because I wouldn't mind seeing some of that hip action."

"Close enough today," Tony said. "C'mon, Steve. Show us your Conrad."

Steve heard a gasp, and his eyes flicked briefly to Thor's friends. The brunette wearing a beanie indoors must have been Darcy. She was staring at him. When she noticed, she immediately stuffed her face with a cookie.

"Show them one of the videos you've been taking," he said. "Don't think I'm not terrified that you'll start posting them on Youtube."

"The world needs to see how talented you are," Tony said.

"The world doesn't need to know how I'm putting my memory to use!"

"It… humanises you?"

"Steve, sing, or he'll keep bugging you," Bruce advised. Seeing the wisdom in this, he hoped that JARVIS would pull out the instrumentation.

…Until he saw the guitar that definitely wasn't in the corner of the room yesterday. He hated the sweet smile Tony gave him.

"One of these days," he threatened, and he picked it up. He heard Tony cheer, and hoped that his responding look was suitably venomous. He played the first chord… and nothing.

"It was dubbed in the film," Tony said. "JARVIS will play for you."

"Encouraging."

"Ready, Captain Rogers."

Steve took a deep breath, and was still somewhat shocked when JARVIS played the electronic chord at the same time that he strummed the strings.

"_You gotta be sincere_," he sang. Tony mock-swooned, but Steve ignored that in favour of copying Jesse Pearson's performance as Conrad Birdie. "_You gotta be sincere. You gotta feel it here, `cause if you feel it here, well, then you're gonna be honestly sincere_."

He started to have fun as the women cheered, and even Clint ogled him. Steve got to the chorus, and sang the first couple of lines to a laughing Thor, and then turned to Darcy.

"_If you feel it in here then it's gotta be right, oh, baby!_" He registered her shell-shocked expression, but didn't let it distract him as he moved around the room for the rest of the number, right until he finished the last 'Yeah!'

He set aside the guitar, and bowed to acknowledge the applause and whooping. He saw Darcy's bright red face and winked at her, still feeling cheeky after the flirtatious song. She bit her bottom lip, and he decided to stop teasing. No need to make her feel uncomfortable when she'd only just got here. He retreated to the kitchen to get some water and plot many painful ways to kill Tony Stark. He'd come up with a hundred and three to date. He'd passed his original goal of a hundred, so now he was going for a hundred and fifty.

Later on, after things had gotten back to normal and people were walking around and talking – and occasionally complimenting him – he sought out Darcy to apologise for making her blush like that. Not that he was exactly sorry, and pretty sure that made him a terrible person. When she saw him, she nearly jumped out of her skin. He opened his mouth, but she beat him to the punch.

And wow, was it a hell of an emotional punch.

"If I asked nicely, would you do that again for me, in private this time?" she asked. Steve dropped his water.

"What d'you want me to do, exactly?" he said.

"Sing for me. Like the way you sang my soulmark?"

Once his brain processed this – damn quickly, thank you, Erskine and Howard – he picked her up and spun her around, laughing.

"Remind me to thank Tony later," he said, pulling her close. He was well aware they'd drawn attention. She suddenly scowled.

"Do you know how many friggin' productions of _Bye-Bye Birdie_ I've spent money on seeing for _half my life_?" she said. He blinked.

"I'm… sorry?" he said.

"You better be!"

"Um… let me make it up to you!"

She pursed her lips, and he tilted his head in a way he'd been told was endearing. She melted a little.

"How?" she asked. Steve looked her over, from her gorgeous green eyes down her curvy figure, lingering shamefully on her cleavage, and then met her gaze again. He allowed his smile to turn wicked as indecent thoughts clamoured for attention. Her lips parted as her cheeks turned pink again.

"Let me show you," he said. "In private."

"Uh…" She glanced at Jane, who looked as stunned as the rest of them. "I'll be with my soulmate, okay?"

"Your soulmate?" Jane said.

"Ye-agh!" She screamed as Steve scooped her up in his arms.

"You wanted me to sing to you," he said innocently.

"Asshole, put me down!"

"Sure. Once we're alone." He carried her to the elevator despite her increasingly half-hearted protests. He continued to hold her, wanting to feel her weight in his arms.

"You gonna let me walk on my own, buster?" Darcy said.

"Eventually. You might not wanna walk for awhile after I'm done with you."

"Wha—?"

"I won't take you to bed until we're married, but I understand there are other things we can do," he said, depositing her on the sofa which he'd shared with Tony so many times lately. Well, now he had someone else to watch films with. And honestly? There were other ways he'd be happy to burn off energy every night.

Better make that wedding as soon as he could convince Darcy to marry him.

* * *

**Because Steve's a gentleman in this story. Sort of. And of course Darcy's going to pick the one thing to be pissed about.**

**Please review! In case anyone hasn't noticed, I've posted the first two chapters of the smutty-smutty bonding scenes fic. It's called 'Fate's Bonding Scenes' (creative title, I know).**


	52. Body Building Literally (JARVIS x Skye)

"Body Building… Literally"

"I'm sure this is unethical," Pepper said as Tony and Bruce worked. "It feels eerily similar to something _else_ which happened recently."

"You mean Ultron?" Tony waved a hand. "This is different."

"It is, actually, different," Bruce said, glancing up at Pepper. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm having trouble believing it," she said. "Please tell me you're not going to pull a Frankenstein? Again?"

Tony gave her a hurt look. "When have I ever…?" She glared at him. "Okay, that was just the one time—"

"Once was two times too many," she said. "I'm sorry I ever donated my eggs to this."

"We needed human DNA," Tony said. "Try to think of him as your son."

"I… really can't. And if I start singing music from _The Rocky Horror Show_, I'm blaming you, Tony. And you, Bruce. I thought you were supposed to be controlling him?"

"He's uncontrollable, Pepper. You should know that by now."

The adult body was already taking form, and she had a really bad feeling about this. Maybe she'd seen too many horror films, or too much sci-fi or fantasy or just general mayhem thanks to the Avengers, but she _really_ didn't like where this was going.

"I'm not playing Geppetto here, Pep," Tony said. "This is for… you know."

"And what about after it's finished?"

"It's all remote controlled!" Tony held up the arc reactor he was installing in the… thing's chest, but beneath the rib cage. Bruce held the aperture open, and Tony carefully inserted the round, glowing object that was a match for the one in his torso. Pepper had a brief flashback to her encounter with Tony's first arc reactor, the sliminess, the terror or holding her boss's life in her hands… Horrible.

"I hope you know what you're doing with this one," she said, before turning on her heels to leave. Tony cleared his throat, and she paused at the door.

"I'm always learning from my mistakes, Pepper," he said softly. "That's what growing up is all about, isn't it?"

She nodded, and left without another word.

* * *

The rest of the Avengers looked on sceptically as Tony and Bruce unveiled the human they'd built. Tall, blond, pale, and blue-eyed according to Tony.

"How did your genes produce that?" Clint asked, gesturing to the sleeping body. Its – his? – chest was moving up and down, and his vitals were normal.

"I have no idea," Tony said. "I think there are some tall blonds on Pepper's side of the family?" Bruce coughed, and elbowed his soulmate. "Anyway! He's already alive; has been alive for about a week. We've taken him through his paces, controlling him remotely. Now it's time to hand over full control to JARVIS. Go, buddy."

"…Sir?"

"I built you a body. Okay, sorry, _Bruce and I_ built you a body. You know how to operate him. Now it's time to transfer you completely."

"Why do I get the feeling we've stumbled into a penny dreadful?" Steve said.

"I do not understand that reference," Thor said.

"Remind me to fill you in later."

"Sir, you should have consulted me," JARVIS scolded.

"It's a surprise, J! So go on. You're throughout an entire building, in fact a whole network. But you've self-improved… yourself, and I know you have feelings now."

"He sure as hell has a personality," Clint said.

"Now he's got an awesome body," Tony said. "I created JARVIS, and Pepper's the woman who's had the most contact with him. He's like our love-child. Or like-child, since Bruce is my soulmate, but… yeah. Point is, there's always enough of you to go around, JARVIS. I've isolated a copy of the most relevant parts of your code in the folder with the blueprints for Edwin Jarvis the Second. Just upload it like I showed you in the test run, and bang! A body."

There was silence for a long time. Then the body on the hospital bed opened its eyes, and the monitors revealed that it was conscious.

"Sir?" the body said.

"What's your name?" Tony asked. He received a familiar-sounding withering look in return.

"Edwin Jarvis the Second, apparently," he said. "I would prefer to go by my surname, if I may. It is far more familiar."

Tony was grinning ear to ear as Jarvis sat up. "Whatever you want, buddy. It's all yours."

"Colour me impressed," Natasha remarked, looking him over. She frowned, and Tony noticed the spasm of pain on Jarvis's face.

"What is it?" he asked quickly.

"Something here," Jarvis said, removing the sheet, uncaring of his nudity. Tony was particularly proud of that part… and then he saw the black writing on his creation's outer thigh. "Sir, that looks like…"

"A soulmark." Tony traced the words 'What's your name, Blue Eyes?' and silently freaked out. He'd created a being with a _soul_. "Shit. I didn't see that coming."

"Jarvis has a soulmark?"

"I do not believe any of us saw that coming," JARVIS said. That was disconcerting, hearing his voice from two different places. At least JARVIS sounded more electronic than Jarvis, whose actual freaking vocal chords made him sound more human.

"Bruce?" Tony said, looking across to his soulmate. "We. Are. Geniuses."

"Next thing," Bruce said, "is that _no one_ discloses this. We destroy all the records and make sure it never gets out. _Ever_. And that Edwin here is kept from anyone who's heard JARVIS."

"I guess we should nickname you EJ," Tony said. "`Cause this is gonna get confusing pretty damn quickly."

* * *

Just a couple of minutes earlier, Skye had begun to twitch in her sleep. She woke up, and was relieved that the room wasn't moving. But then she felt a twinge on her inner thigh, and raised her sleeping shorts to see a soulmark. 'It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Skye'. Who the hell said that to her? And how long was she gonna have to wait to meet her soulmate if they were only being born _now_?

"Crap," she said. Well, this was just one more weirdness to add to the long list.

* * *

_Sixty-nine (tee hee!) days later_

They all walked into the foyer of Stark Tower, where several people were waiting. There was Tony Stark, of course, and Pepper Potts. Captain America was there, Thor next to him, and a guy that Skye didn't recognise. Short, bleached blond hair, as tall as Thor, with startling blue eyes. She heard him speaking to the others with a British accent, and wondered whether he was another Asgardian. He looked like he could wipe the floor with someone, that's for sure, while still looking the picture of upper class.

Skye got to shake Tony Stark's hand (freak out), Pepper Pott's hand (another freak out), Steve Rogers's hand (_oh my God_), and Thor's hand (possibly an _actual_ god). Then she came to the stranger, who hadn't introduced himself yet.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Skye," he said.

Oh. My. _God_. This was _insane_. And she had _no _idea who he was.

"What's your name, Blue Eyes?" she asked.

"What?" Stark blurted. They all stared at her. Her soulmate gave her a small smile.

"This is intriguing," he said. Coulson narrowed his eyes.

"I know your voice," he said. "It reminds me of…" He looked around, and then scowled at Stark. "Please tell me that's not—"

"And what if it is?" Stark said.

"Then… I'm not explaining it to Skye. You're doing that."

"I will," Skye's soulmate said. "Miss Skye, I am Edwin Jarvis. Mr. Stark built this body, instilled with his and Miss Potts' DNA, and then implanted… or should I say had me upload myself to the body. I am the Artificial Intelligence which inhabits this building."

"Holy shit," she said, blinking. "What?"

"Somehow I was granted a soul, and thus a soulmark."

"…I'm guessing this was about ten weeks ago, when I finally got _my_ soulmark?"

"Yes."

Skye rubbed her temples. "This would happen to me. Of course it would."

"Are you displeased?"

"With you?" She checked him out with a smile. "Hell no. It's just… weird stuff happens to me. I guess getting Robo-Man as my soulmate is fairly normal by comparison."

"Not a robot!" Stark said.

"But I am not one hundred percent human," Edwin admitted. Or did he go by…?

"What do I call you?"

"Everyone else either calls me Jarvis or EJ," he said, absently stroking her hair back over her shoulder. "However, I would be very… happy for you to call me Edwin."

"That's so sweet!" Jemma exclaimed. Skye grinned.

"Okay, Edwin," she said. "Do you drink coffee?"

"I prefer tea."

"Wanna go get some tea, then?"

Edwin held out his elbow, and Skye hooked her arm around it. "I would like that very much, Skye."

* * *

**What? I don't even… Okay, so Hazelnut28 requested JARVIS/someone, and readaddict123 asked for JARVIS/Skye. Hand-wavey science is hand-wavey.**

**Please review! I'm still trying to work out how this chapter happened. I know it's not strictly JARVIS when it's… Jarvis, but bear with me.**


	53. On Your Knees (Brock x Phil)

**Note: Clark Gregg was born in 1962, Frank Grillo was born in 1963, and according to the Marvel Wiki, Coulson was born in 1964. Anyway, since the actors are close in age, I'm going with that.**

"On Your Knees"

HYDRA wasn't going to get away with this. Natasha was in a coma, which made it even more personal for New SHIELD and the Avengers. Not that the Avengers had known about Phil and SHIELD until after Natasha was subjected to an attack by HYDRA, and he volunteered to help avenge her.

There was yelling, there were tears, and Phil had kissed Natasha's forehead before following the others into battle. Naturally, his team followed his lead, at least until he ordered them to retreat.

Which they ignored. Bless them. He'd be having words with them afterwards, if they all got out of this.

He flinched at another explosion in the distance, hoping that his team was giving HYDRA hell. He was searching for a cure to whatever chemical had been used on Natasha, and remembered the search for GH-325…

No. No time for a panic attack. Especially as someone was in the shadows to his r—

His gun was knocked from his hand, and he blocked the follow-up punch. It was a dark corner, and he wanted to see who he was fighting, but he also needed to get to his gun, and he had no idea whether his opponent was armed.

Casual danger dialogue wasted precious breath, and this was no informal sparring match with May. This was life or death.

Lights came on, and he nearly faltered when he saw that he was against Brock Rumlow. Scarred but alive. How was that even possible?

…Coming from Phil, that was a ridiculous question.

Arms swiped, feet struck, fists connected. They both went down at least twice, but got up and continued. Phil knew they were close in age, but he'd been out of the field longer, and if Rumlow had survived being run over by a Helicarrier, chances were he'd been enhanced. All he could do was keep the HYDRA agent engaged long enough for help to arrive, or at least for someone else to find the cure and get it out safely.

"Coulson, do you know who you're fighting?" Steve said over the comms.

"Yep." He dodged another punch and tripped Rumlow up. Barely a second passed before the man was up again and blocking Phil from getting to his gun.

"I can see you. I'll be there in a minute."

"I'm getting there," Clint added, and Phil could hear him running along a metal walkway, both over the comm. unit and not far away. He bit his lip, and let Rumlow down him. He fell closer to his weapon, and rolled out of the way of a stomping foot in a leather boot. He swiped Rumlow's legs out from under him, and took that moment to dive for his gun.

"Give it up, Rumlow!" Steve called, pelting along the floor to get to them. Phil had his gun trained on the agent, finger on the trigger.

"Down on your knees!" Clint shouted from up high. Rumlow looked up at the bow and arrow, to the shield on his right, and then to Phil's gun. With a slight nod, he knelt down, hands behind his head.

"Don't expect to beat me every time, Coulson," he said, eyeing Phil. He nearly dropped his gun, shaking his head as he backed up against a tank. No, no, _no_.

"You betrayed the captain," he whispered. Rumlow couldn't…

His eyes widened, and then he smirked widely.

"Had to," he said, "since my soulmark told me to."

"_What_?" Steve said. He looked from Rumlow to Phil, then back again.

"My soulmark," Rumlow replied. "Your Agent Coulson said it. 'You betrayed the captain'. I figured it was you, and it fit with my assignment, so I didn't question it." He shrugged. "It was Fate who decided that."

"She sure as hell seems cruel enough," Phil said. He wanted to be sick. _Brock Rumlow_ was his soulmate. That couldn't be right. No. No, he couldn't accept it.

"Want me to take this fucker out, _Director_ Coulson?" Clint said. Rumlow raised an eyebrow.

"Well, isn't my soulmate rising in the world?" he said.

"_Don't call me that_," Phil hissed.

"Wanna see my soulmark? It's in a _very_ interesting place."

"Stop it."

"It's under my left thigh. I've imagined what that means."

"Stop."

"Just think about it, _sweetheart_. You could pound out your frustrations in my a—"

Phil shot him in the side, and Rumlow's provocative words were cut off by his startled cry as he clutched the spreading bloodstain. He glared up at Phil, who then shot him in the right shoulder. Again in the chest. Steve grabbed his arms and forced them down.

"Save your ammunition and your anger for someone else," he murmured. In his strong hold, Phil realised that he was shaking. He put the safety on.

"Someone get an ambulance," he said over the comms. "We're bringing in a live one."

* * *

Jemma had found the cure with Bobbi as her guard; so while Rumlow was being operated on, the Black Widow was slowly coming out of her coma. When she looked at Coulson, she turned pale.

"It's Fury's fault I'm alive," he said without preamble. She blinked, and then looked at Hawkeye, who nodded tearfully.

"Remind me to thank him," she said, before dropping into a natural sleep. Coulson squeezed Jemma's shoulder.

"Good work, Simmons," he said. Agent Barton let go of Agent Romanov's hand, and turned to her.

"Yeah, I really owe you one for that," he said. Jemma stared at him, then Coulson, with shocked eyes, before returning her attention to Barton.

"It really was no problem," she said, trying not to betray her surprise. He didn't react, and she told her sinking heart that she couldn't expect anything else. Of course he wasn't going to be her soulmate.

"We'd better debrief," Coulson said, and Jemma tore her gaze away from Barton.

"Right behind you, sir," she said, filing out after him with Bobbi by her side. When she glanced back, she thought she saw Barton looking at her, but that was impossible.

"You remember how you showed me your soulmark?" Bobbi said quietly.

"It was Truth or Dare. We were drunk. How do you even remember that?"

"Wasn't that what Barton…?"

"It's not the first time I've heard those words," Jemma said. "I've been waiting for a reaction to my response, and nothing so far. It will happen one day."

"It wasn't exactly a unique response," Bobbi pointed out.

"Yes, but if it was his soulmark he would've reacted. I certainly have no poker face."

"Hey." Bobbi elbowed her. "You did a pretty good job when you were undercover."

"Well, I'm sure my soulmate—"

"Can we please not talk about soulmates and soulmarks right now?" Coulson said over his shoulder.

"Sir?"

"That's right, you were too busy at the time." He sighed, and slowed to a stop. They stood either side of him, and he looked at the ground. "Brock Rumlow is my soulmate. I found out when we spoke to each other earlier."

"You mean you'd never spoken to him at SHIELD?" Bobbi said.

"That's the part you're questioning?" Jemma said incredulously.

"No, I only ever saw him in the distance," Coulson said. "I'm… grateful that it didn't happen before HYDRA was revealed. Now all I can wonder…" His shoulders were hunched as the trio resumed walking. "Why did Fate do this? I'd never become HYDRA, God no. But I doubt Rumlow can be brought to our side. He's in too deep. If he was a sleeper agent, was brainwashed to be HYDRA, that I could understand. But he was fully autonomous. It… makes absolutely no sense. Not even a platonic bond, let alone a non-platonic relationship."

"Would you like me to do further research into soulmateship?" Jemma offered. "I can remember most of my notes from when I studied it at university, and I'm sure my former professors would be happy to assist me."

"I'd… I'd appreciate that, Simmons. Thank you."

* * *

Something compelled him to return to the hospital after Bro— after Rumlow's operation was over. He waited outside the intensive care unit, telling himself it was in case the man suddenly felt well enough to escape, despite the building being extremely secure, probably the most secure hospital in New York City. Hell, the president would be safer here than at the White House, it was that well-protected, inside and out.

"You okay, DC?" Skye asked, startling him. He stared at her, and at the coffee she presented to him. "Hell of a shock, huh? Ward wasn't even my soulmate and I still felt betrayed because he was HYDRA. I can't imagine how it feels for you."

"I didn't know Rumlow personally, so I don't have the same feeling of betrayal. It's no stronger than the way I felt after SHIELD fell. It just feels more personal because he's my…" He touched the top of his thigh, where 'Don't expect to beat me every time, Coulson' was inscribed in a writing that Steve had confirmed was Rumlow's.

"Do you think anyone else knew?" she said, plunking onto the hospital seat next to him.

"Fury might've seen both our marks and writing, and didn't pair us together for work in case it was a conflict of interest," he said. "But if that was the case, why would he put Steve with Rumlow, knowing that a betrayal was going to happen?"

"Unless he thought there was an innocent explanation behind the words," Skye said, and she took a sip of her hot chocolate. Phil drank some of his steaming hot coffee. "He wouldn't have any reason to suspect that Rumlow was a bad guy, not with you as his soulmate. That could even be why he paired them together, to give you the opportunity of meeting each other."

"Then why keep my resurrection secret from the Avengers, if there was a chance I'd meet Captain Rogers again?"

"I don't know. I heard a rumour that they were encouraged to play board games in their downtime between missions, to bond as a team."

Phil laughed bitterly. "Damnit, Nick. You couldn't just leave it alone?"

"Or he didn't know at all, and we're completely off course," Skye said.

"I hope that's the case."

"Feel better now?"

"No."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"Fine then, since you're being anal about it. I'm sorry _for you_. You got a sucky soulmate."

"Please don't mention 'anal' and 'sucky' when referring to my male soulmate."

Skye nearly spewed out her hot chocolate. Phil patted her on the back.

"Mr. Coulson?" an intern said, approaching them. "You're the one who admitted Mr. Rumlow?"

"He's my soulmate," Phil said. The intern raised his eyebrows. "Don't ask; I'm having a bad enough day because of that."

"Okay," the doctor said slowly. "He's healing up well. At this rate, he can be transferred from ICU tonight, and if it continues, he can be released within a few days. It's truly remarkable."

"That's one word for it."

"Sir?"

"Forget it."

"He doesn't have any next of kin listed. Should I put you down…?"

Phil sighed. "He's in SHIELD custody now, and I'm the director, so you may as well. For administrative purposes only."

There was no way he was going to form any kind of relationship with Brock Rumlow outside of agent and prisoner.

(And _not_ in a fun way.)

* * *

Brock glared at Phil. Phil glared back.

"Why didn't you take the kill-shot?" Brock said.

"Because I wanted you alive."

"I'm so glad you're not into necrophilia."

"Shut up! You're one of the last people in the _world_ I'd want as a soulmate."

"Aw, but I'm not the _absolute_ last?" Brock smirked. "I'm touched, Phil."

"Don't call me that, Rumlow."

"Okay, I won't call you 'that, Rumlow'."

"Do you want me to strangle you?" Phil asked, growing more and more on edge. Rumlow cocked his head.

"Hadn't thought about it before, but it could be fun," he said. "Do you like restraints?"

"Rumlow…"

"Where's my soulmark on you?" Phil growled. "C'mon, where? I'm not gonna jump you; not while I'm recovering and you're still SHIELD."

"Still… _what_? I'm the director! I would _never_ leave SHIELD."

"Not even for your soulmate?"

"You're not all that in a bag of potato chips, Rumlow."

After a moment, Rumlow burst out laughing, and Phil had to get him a cup of water when the laughter turned to hacking coughs. He helped his soulmate drink.

"Haven't you heard that one before?" he asked, placing the cup aside and making sure Rumlow was settled again.

"Not since the nineties," Rumlow said.

"You haven't seen _Austin Powers_?"

"International Man of Mystery? I'd rather have Bond."

"I bet you would." Phil sobered, and sat beside the bed. He kept his peripheral vision on Rumlow. "Why… why do you believe in HYDRA? You're the bad guys. You want to suppress people's freedom and turn the world into a polite state. You… you want to kill anyone who opposes you, experiment on innocent people, play with science and magic you don't understand just to further your own ends. What about when you lose control? Who will you turn to then, to sort out the mess you've created?" He shook his head, and Rumlow shrugged.

"I don't think I can explain," he said. "I know I always thought it was a pity that you were such a goody-two-shoes. So much potential." He sighed, looking Phil over. "You could've helped HYDRA to greatness. The two of us together…"

"Yes," Phil said, trying to keep a hold on his temper. "The two of us together could've achieved great things. I wouldn't have minded working with you, based on your reputation alone. But knowing what you are?" He laughed harshly. "Call me a goody-two-shoes all you want. I'd take that over being evil _any_ day."

"Poor Phil," Rumlow said, his lips curling up. "You have no idea how many times you did exactly what HYDRA wanted you to. You 'furthered our ends' all while you thought you were fighting the good fight."

"No."

"Didn't you ever question an order before carrying it out? That was HYDRA's influence. When you followed an order you didn't like, it was probably coming from Pierce."

"_No_."

"If you'd only gone with your instincts instead of following the rules… well, Pierce might've had you taken out for being subversive. You complied without realising it, sweetheart."

"Don't _call_ me that."

"What're you gonna do, sew up my lips? Clap a gag on me?"

"Don't. Tempt. Me."

"Oh, baby. If I poured on my full charm you'd already be drillin' me into this bed."

Phil gripped the arms of his chair. He loathed Brock Rumlow and everything he stood for. Shooting him three times didn't change that, and he wished he'd emptied his gun into the man's head.

"You're evil," he said. "I hate you."

"I've never had sex with someone who hated me, but I've heard it can be fun."

"_Stop_ it!"

"You'll come to me eventually," Rumlow said. "Hopefully in me as well. Because we're soulmates." Phil regretted not cutting out Rumlow's tongue when he continued. "And don't think I didn't see you before."

"Before?"

"Before SHIELD fell. Even before New York. We nearly bumped into each other a few times, and I saw you in the gym too often for it to be a coincidence… for either of us."

Phil clenched his jaw and kept silent. Rumlow took it as an invitation to go on.

"I swear I wouldn't be this fit if it wasn't because I liked it when you stared at my ass. Best ever incentive to work out twice a day." He hummed. "Or as often as it took to make sure we were there at the same time. Me? I have a definite thing for your arms. Do you know how many nights I fantasised about them holding me down?"

"I… I wasn't—"

"Don't lie to your soulmate, darling. It's not nice."

"You lied to me!"

"When? We only met today. We've never communicated with each other before. How could I lie to you?"

Phil stood, and began to pace.

"You…" He tried again. "You lied to SHIELD."

"Only to Nick Fury. I never lied to Pierce."

"You _betrayed_ us! You betrayed Captain Rogers!"

"I followed orders. You did, once upon a time."

"The difference being that I have _principles_."

"True. And that's become even more of a problem since you came back to life."

Phil didn't want to talk about this with Brock Rumlow, even though the man was his soulmate.

Seriously. What was Fate _thinking_? Was she having an off day or something? Had someone pissed her off? Did Phil do something horrible in a past life?

Rumlow was right about one thing, though. Phil had been attracted to the STRIKE team leader pretty much from the minute he saw him. The guy was a definite Alpha male, and his backside was worth staring at. It was great practise at being covert when it came to watching people. Apparently he'd failed at that… although if Rumlow really had been watching him back, of course he'd notice. Phil was ashamed that he'd failed to see it himself. Now he was glad that he hadn't approached Rumlow the way he'd been tempted to so many times. The thought that he'd even considered it made him feel sick again. He looked over his shoulder and glared at Rumlow, who continued to smile.

"You're hot when you're pissed off," Rumlow remarked. Phil turned his head away.

"Would you stop that?" he begged softly. "Please."

The bed creaked, which should've been impossible. He turned, and nearly stepped back when he found Rumlow right in his face.

"Why?" the man said, matching Phil's volume. "Because you know you want this?"

He cupped Phil's cheeks and pulled him into a gentle kiss. Phil tried not to melt. Once upon a time, he'd wanted this. Badly. Maybe even wished a couple of times that Rumlow would turn out to be his soulmate. Until HYDRA screwed everything up.

He wasn't aware of how much time had passed until he was pressing Rumlow onto the bed, hands inside his gown, while Rumlow tugged off Phil's tie.

"Bind me up," he whispered. "You know you want to, Phil. You wanna teach me a lesson, don't you?"

Phil nodded, brushing their noses together, until he saw the scars on Rumlow's face. Remembered how he'd got them, _why_ he'd got them. He snatched his tie back, taking in Rumlow's swollen lips and half-undone hospital gown.

"No," he said, half to himself. He shook his head and raced from the room, running into Steve Rogers just past the door.

"Phil," he said. In an instant, Phil knew Steve had seen them.

"I'm so sorry," he said hoarsely. "I… I don't know…"

Steve pulled him into a hug. "It's not your fault."

"He's…"

"Your soulmate."

"Evil."

"Your soulmate."

"That's a bad thing."

"But you can't fight a pull like that," Steve said. He let Phil go, and steered him towards the elevators. "Let's go to the cafeteria. I think you need a coffee."

* * *

Now Phil could truly empathise with Skye, when they'd had Ward prisoner and she'd had to visit him. Rumlow would eat and exercise, but refuse to give any information unless he got to see Phil. At first, the Avengers were protective of him, even after he confessed about the kiss. They threatened Rumlow, yet he remained unmoved.

"I'll talk to Phil," he said. Honestly, did HYDRA train them to be this stubborn?

"Just let me go down there," Phil said wearily, an ice pack over his forehead. He'd been trying to get work done when he'd heard that Rumlow was demanding to see him for the umpteenth time. He'd be a hypocrite if he didn't face the HYDRA agent and try to extract information. At least Skye hadn't known that Ward was the enemy the first time she'd kissed him; Phil knew all the damn time, and got caught up in the connection crying out to be consummated.

"Do you want one of us to go with you?" Natasha asked.

"He'll know. I have to do this on my own."

"It's not like you got us into this mess," Clint said. "You made the decision to bring him in."

"I should've killed him."

"I don't think you could've if you tried," Steve said.

"It's wrong. I shouldn't be _feeling_ like this." Phil tossed the ice pack aside and covered his face with his hands.

"It's not fair, I know," Steve said, sitting on the arm of the couch. "But it is what it is, and we need your help. It's… it's a lot to ask—"

"But I've asked it of someone else before," Phil said. "I need eyes on the room, and I need someone outside the door. And a nail for my hand."

"What?!"

"So that if I'm tempted by… whatever the tie is, I can stick the nail into my flesh and break myself out of the spell."

"I don't think we have to resort to that," Natasha said dryly. "If you get too close, we'll blast the room with loud music, or send someone in to drag you back."

"...Let's go with that. It's a much less painful idea."

"Depends on whether or not you like Tony Stark's taste in music," Clint muttered.

Rumlow looked up when Phil walked in, and grinned widely.

"Hi, soulmate," he said.

"You said you'd tell me information," Phil said once they were alone.

"Not yet. Talk to me for awhile. I wanna hear your voice."

"Why?"

"`Cause it's soothing. You should've heard some of the people I've worked with. Like nails on a blackboard. Your voice is mellow. Can you sing? You should. Something like 'Misty'." Phil shivered at the slightly demented edge to Rumlow's voice.

"I'm not playing 'Misty' for you," he said.

"True. You're not the one in the building named Clint."

"Tell me about HYDRA. Bases. Names. Anything."

"Why, because I'm your prisoner? Or because I'm your soulmate?"

Phil bit his lip, considering the answer. "Both. Either. Neither. Because it's the right thing to do."

"If I make amends, will you consider bonding with me?"

"What?"

"You heard me." Rumlow swung his legs around as he sat up, and gripped the mattress's edge. "If I tell you everything you wanna know, will you take a chance on me, Phil?"

He couldn't speak for a minute. Rumlow watched him patiently. Finally, Phil regained use of his tongue.

"You're saying that if I sleep with you—"

"Bond with me."

"Bond with you, that you'll help us." He took a breath. "Fine. If that's what it takes."

Rumlow scowled. "No."

"What do you mean, 'No'?"

"That's _not_ what I said. If I gave you what you wanted, all the information I can, would you… consider bonding with me? There doesn't have to be sex. Or there can be sex but no bonding. Or just…" He ran his fingers through his hair, confidence melting away to uncertainty and frustration. "A chance to get you to like me."

"You…" He couldn't believe this. "You want to redeem yourself?"

"I honestly can't see you sympathising with HYDRA. If this is the only way to be with you, my _soulmate_, then I'll do it. Because after the shitty childhood I had, the only thing I wanted was my soulmate. That makes you the most important thing… _person _to me."

"More important than HYDRA?"

Rumlow met his eyes. "More important than the damn world. So I'm gonna do what it takes, if I think I have a chance."

Phil's head was reeling, and he laughed shortly. Rumlow's lips pursed, and he lowered his head. Phil sighed.

"If that kiss at the hospital didn't tell you anything, then I despair of you as an agent, I really do," he said. Rumlow peeked up at him. "I thought I'd meet my soulmate playing chess, or sparring."

"Close enough to sparring, don't you think?" Rumlow was half-smiling now, and it reminded Phil of what first attracted him to the man. (The second was his ass. He never said he wasn't a little bit shallow.)

"I guess."

"So…?" He looked at Phil from under his eyelashes. Stupidly long eyelashes for any agent of SHIELD. Or HYDRA.

"You'd better behave like a gentleman on our first date, or I'll… I'll…"

"Behave like a rogue and take me to bed?" Rumlow asked.

"Or I'll make you wait longer," Phil said. He turned on his heel and stalked out, while Rumlow chuckled lowly.

"Just try to resist my bedroom eyes when the time comes," he said. "I dare you."

* * *

**Kira Kyuu, in one of our many conversations, suggested Brock/Phil, with Brock having 'You betrayed the captain' as his soulmark, and using it to justify betraying Cap. Especially since it's 'not personal' with Steve; it's because his soulmark told him to. Because this is me, and because ozhawk has a love of Brock Rumlow, I decided upon a happy ending with Rumlow starting to redeem himself. I did try to keep him as a dick for awhile, at least.**

**Uh… please review?**


	54. Not Really Dressed (Pepper x Skye)

"Not Really Dressed"

Skye was slouched in one of the visitor's seats at Stark Industries. After months of working with the Koenig brothers, she was in the habit of wearing a lanyard and security badge, so she had no problem with doing the same here. She saw Happy Hogan smiling with approval when he noticed her compliance with company policy. She also saw Maria Hill falter as she passed, and Skye smiled weakly, giving the tiniest lift of her shoulders. Hill walked on without comment, and Skye breathed a sigh of relief. She continued to tap her fingers on the arm of the chair, giving the appearance of staring at the shiny ceiling but really staying attuned to her surroundings.

She was here to see Pepper Potts. She had to be careful, in case HYDRA was tapping into the CCTV surrounding the building. They could be anywhere. They could even be in Stark Industries. But orders were orders.

"Will I get to see her soon?" she asked Hogan. He glanced down at her.

"I'll let you know," he said. "You didn't make an appointment—"

"I thought I had," she said. "I noted it down and everything. I had to reschedule a dental appointment to get this time, and do you _know_ how hard it is to get to see a dentist? Not that I'm complaining, but my teeth will."

"But this is more important to you than your oral health?" he said, raising his eyebrows, before looking down her… okay, so she was dressed casually. So sue her.

"I don't have that many fancy outfits," Skye said defensively.

"If you're looking for a job—"

"Support for my work. But that's something I'd prefer to discuss with Miss Potts. I'm sure you'd be able to help, but my appointment… was _supposed_ to be with her."

"I'll check to see if she has any free time available," he said, pulling out a StarkPad.

Skye shrugged. "I'm not in any hurry. Now I'm here, I'll stick around until she's free."

Hogan gave her a look of slight suspicion, and Skye carefully didn't look innocent. That would be a dead giveaway. He walked off, and she continued to play with the badge at the end of the lanyard.

* * *

Pepper looked up at Happy, and smiled when she noticed his bordering-on-grim expression.

"What's the matter, Happy?" she asked.

"Got a girl outside," he said. "She looks about twelve." Pepper raised an eyebrow. "Okay, she looks nineteen, but the point stands."

"And?"

"She's here to see you."

"Hence your worry," she said.

"Miss Potts!"

"I'm sorry, Happy. Does she have an appointment?"

"No, she doesn't, but she said that someone gave her one."

"Did she say who?" Pepper asked, frowning.

"I didn't ask."

"Is she wearing a security badge?"

"Yes, she is."

"Well, she can't be all bad, then, can she?"

Happy scowled. "Do you remember Aldrich Killian? His henchman kept his badge on."

"Yes, but your instincts told you not to trust him," Pepper said. "What do they say about this girl?"

He considered it. "Not much of a threat, but she's not exactly dressed up. It's hard to know whether that's her default setting, whether she doesn't have much, or whether she's subversive. She wants 'support for her work'," he did air-quotes, "and that could be _anything_."

"Hmm." Pepper craned her head to see around Happy, but all she saw was dark hair. "Is she short or just slouching?"

He grimaced. "Slouching."

"Poor Happy."

"I'm worried that you're not taking this seriously, Miss Potts."

"Well, _do_ I have an appointment at the moment?"

"No. Someone's obviously tampered with your schedule, because your secretary has no memory of—"

"Of not making an appointment? Wow, I really _should_ be worried."

Happy still looked pissed off. "Miss Potts—"

"Send her in. You'll be just outside, and I'll have my panic button nearby. Also, I'm wearing pants and you've been training me in self-defence. Come on, Happy. You've aroused my curiosity. Please." She indicated. He huffed, but he ushered the young woman in. Pepper looked her over: olive skin, long hair, brunette, jeans and checked button-up. Presumably her tatty bag had been checked at security, so Pepper wasn't concerned about that. Happy nodded, and stepped outside to wait. Pepper smiled at the young woman reassuringly.

"I'll admit, your motive for being here sounds vague," she said. The young woman nearly tripped over her own feet as she walked towards the table, and Pepper tensed at the quick movement. Then her world was tipped upside down.

"I could've faked one, but that wouldn't be any fun," she said. Pepper stopped breathing for a few seconds, before dragging in a huge breath.

"Oh my God," she said, looking away.

"Shit. I _seriously_ wasn't expecting this. Not that I'm complaining or anything, because holy cow, you're Pepper Potts." The young woman was babbling as she lowered herself into the chair opposite. "This is kinda awkward now. But awesome! Don't get me wrong." She leaned her elbow on the desk and propped up her head. Her grin made Pepper's heart skip. "I'm a huge fan. Of your work, yeah, but mainly just… you."

"Thank you," Pepper said, aware that her cheeks probably matched her hair. "I should berate you for your words to me."

"What do you mean?"

Pepper unbuttoned her blouse, glancing towards the door. Happy wasn't looking at them, thankfully. Then she displayed her soulmark, scrawled across her stomach. 'I could've faked one, but that wouldn't be any fun'. Her soulmate's eyes goggled, and her jaw dropped. Pepper did up her shirt again, and tried not to laugh.

"Oh my God, I am _so_ sorry. That's gotta be the worst soulmark of all time."

"Put it this way," Pepper said. "I figured it couldn't be implying… _that_ if it was the first thing someone said to me. I definitely didn't want it to be the case, which is why I've been careful about any relationships. Always exchanging words first. Speaking of…"

"You wanna see yours," Skye said, raising her shirt. Pepper's handwriting, right there. "I try to be vague about my 'motives' because of you." She dropped her shirt back into place.

"You must've worried a lot of people, growing up."

"No." The young woman's face fell. "No, I didn't. Not with… no."

Pepper shook her head. "Isn't this terrible? I don't even know your name."

"Skye."

"With an 'e' on the end?"

"Yeah."

"And your last name?"

She shrugged. "No last name. Orphan. I've… got a hell of a past. I'm not sure whether you should get tangled up in it or not."

"Oh, sweetie," Pepper said, touching Skye's hand. "I heard someone say once that the present, as we speak, becomes the past. I'm already in your past. Have been for about…" She checked her watch. "Five minutes? And I'd like to be in your future."

"Really?" Then Skye's phone rang, and she swore. "Sorry. Gotta take this. It's probably my boss. He… he wants to talk to you, so if I hand it over…?"

"Of course," she said, nodding. Skye pressed a button.

"Hey, DC," she said. "Yeah, something happened. No, nothing bad. But she's, uh… she's my soulmate. DC? Are you there? Good, I was worried you'd fainted."

"Do you want me to talk to him?" Pepper asked. Skye bit her lip, clearly listening to the man on the other end.

"No, I don't… I'm with her at the moment. I only just told her my name. No, nothing else yet, because you _interrupted us_. Now you wanna talk to her? Okay, hang on a second. I'll put you on speaker. Because I happen to like my phone. Jeez." She tapped another button, and placed the cell phone on the table. "You can talk now, DC."

"Hello, Pepper."

"…_Phil_?"

"Sorry about the deception, but—"

"You're _alive_?"

"Clearly, since I'm talking to you."

"How do I know this isn't someone imitating your voice?"

"It isn't," Skye said. "Phil Coulson is my boss, and the head of New SHIELD. That's… our nickname for it. He wanted me to let you know he was alive, and then you could talk to him on the phone after I showed you the files, but then we got sidetracked, and… yeah."

"Pepper—"

"Stop," she said, holding up a hand, even though he couldn't see it. Or maybe he could? Who knew? "Do you need help? Is that why you're _finally_ contacting me, because you have a favour to ask?"

"No," he said firmly. "I'm calling because I wanted to let you know that I'm alive. It's taken too damn long, but I haven't had much time to breathe, let alone think."

"It's been kinda busy, what with having to track down the bad guys, especially HYDRA and ex-SHIELD," Skye said. Pepper frowned at her, and Skye bowed her head, falling quiet.

"I'll make a clean breast of it to the Avengers," Phil said, because it had to be him. "But I wanted to tell you first, because you're my friend, and I… didn't want you to find out from anyone else. It's been hard enough bringing in Audrey."

"The cellist?"

"Yeah. She cried. Then she jumped me. Then she might've hit me. We got a bit… distracted. She'd love to meet you sometime, by the way. But it's too dangerous at the moment, and we're getting to know each other again."

Pepper stood up and walked away, facing the wall. "There _has_ to be another reason for you to call, for you to send someone to tell me all this."

"Friendship isn't enough?" he asked softly.

"You've had _years_, Phil, _years_ in which to tell us. Why now? What's changed to make it suddenly alright?"

"Nothing! It's just that… I told Audrey, which made me feel that I had to tell you. No ulterior motive. There are plenty of times I could've asked for favours, for funding, but I didn't. Because friendship matters more to me than any of those things, Pepper. I'd only come to you for help if it was the last resort."

She couldn't speak, so she remained silent. Eventually, he sighed.

"If you could please pass it on to the Avengers, I'd appreciate that," he said. Then there was a dial-tone, and the click of a button again. Pepper didn't look over her shoulder; she felt like any sudden movement might make her fall apart. She lowered her head, trying to hold back tears of disbelief and anger. How would Clint and Natasha respond to this? If Pepper felt this betrayed, it would be so much worse for them.

Did… did Maria know? She _had_ to know.

And Pepper was a terrible soulmate. She turned, pasting on a smile, and opened her mouth.

Skye was gone. Only Happy was there, poking his head into the room.

"What happened?" he asked. "You weren't cruel, were you, boss? Just because I was suspicious… well, I'm suspicious of everyone. But she looked like she wanted to cry. Say." He stepped into the room as Pepper sank into her chair. "You look like _you're_ gonna cry."

"Phil's alive," she said.

"Phil?"

"Phil Coulson."

"Phil _Coulson_? Wasn't he that guy from SHIELD who…?" She nodded. "Wow. And he's alive?"

"Yes," she said. "That girl's from SHIELD. She's the one who told me… well, she answered the call, and put him on speaker."

"Huh. But why'd she look like she wanted to cry? I didn't hear you yelling at her."

"I didn't speak to her at all after Phil called. Happy…" She gazed out the window. "Is she still in the building?"

"I don't know."

"You have to find her. Now."

"Sure thing, boss."

"She's… she's my soulmate."

His eyes grew rounder, but he didn't comment as he sent security to look for her. When they couldn't find her, it just confirmed Pepper's suspicions. After all, Skye was an agent of SHIELD; she could've sneaked out anywhere. Maybe with Phil's help?

"I need to call Tony," she said to herself.

If she needed to consult with her ex about a personal matter, she knew it was bad.

* * *

"I can hardly believe it," Jemma enthused. "You're so lucky, Skye. I know you admire her, and to find out that Pepper Potts is your _soulmate_? To find your soulmate at all, when I know you'd been losing hope? And, by the way, you're younger than I am, so it's silly for you to lose hope so soon."

"Ward and Cal are pretty big millstones to have around my neck," Skye muttered, her head propped up on her knees as she sat on the end of Jemma's bed. "Could you imagine how bad it would be if they found out who my soulmate is?"

"Yes, absolutely terrible," Jemma said, rolling her eyes. "The CEO of Stark industries, ex-girlfriend of Iron Man, friend of the _Avengers_. She must be the least-guarded person in the world, and certainly in no position to defend herself or be defended. I'm sure that she must be _completely_ helpless."

"Sarcasm sounds so much worse in a British accent."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Skye groaned in frustration, and leaned her head back against the wall.

"I just ran outta there, Jemma! I'm such a coward."

"She had quite a lot to process, and so did you," she said.

"Stop trying to sound reasonable. I hate it when you do that."

"Because I'm right?"

"You're the worst friend," Skye grumbled.

"No, I'm not. You're going to clean yourself up, find her phone number, and then get dressed in something _nice_. Then you're going to meet her, explain yourself, and you can both sort out this little misunderstanding."

"_Little_ misunder—"

"Yes," Jemma said, frowning at her. "It could be so much worse, Skye. You're the one who ran out, as you said. It's up to you to fix things."

Skye hesitated, and then she nodded. "Right. I'll do it."

* * *

Sandwiched on the couch between Thor and Clint, Pepper stared listlessly at the television while the news played. JARVIS muted the sound.

"The hell, J?" Tony said.

"There is someone outside the gate, sir," JARVIS said. "A caller for Miss Potts?"

"Tell them to go away," she said. "Please."

"She is quite insistent, Miss Potts. She says that she is your soulmate?"

"…Show me."

The TV screen filled with a view from the security camera just outside the tower gates. Skye was there, and she looked at the camera when JARVIS presumably spoke to her. Then she held up a sign: 'Sorry I bailed. Drinks? I brought flowers.' She held up a bouquet. It looked like it came from a florist, not a gas station or supermarket. Pepper smiled at Skye's hopeful look.

"Tell her I'll be down there soon, JARVIS," she said.

"No, bring her up here first," Tony said. "We need to inspect her."

"Tony, she's my soulmate—"

"And you're our girl, Pepper. We're gonna protect you."

Pepper chuckled as she stood up. "Okay. But no scaring her off. I thought I had, and I'm not risking that again."

"Fine, fine."

It felt like hours passed before the elevator doors slid open, and Skye was standing there with a mixed bouquet, a rolled up sign, and a sheepish grin.

"Hey," she said.

"Hi," Pepper said, and she held out her hand. "I never introduced myself. I'm Virginia Potts."

"And I'm Skye, no last name," Skye replied, shaking her hand gently. "Your soulmate."

* * *

**Daw! I was working on… one of the previous chapters, I don't know which one, but there was a party or something and Skye and Pepper met, and I decided that I wanted to pair them in a chapter, so this happened.**

**Please review!**


	55. Stayin' Alive (Johnny x Logan)

"Stayin' Alive"

Johnny barrelled through the ice tunnel being formed around him by some kid.

"Give it up, Pyro!" he heard. "You're surrounded!"

"Pyro?" Johnny said, glancing over his shoulder. "Is that some bad joke?"

"Wait." Ice-Guy stopped, the icicles dropping from his hands. "You're not John."

"Technically, I am. Johnny Storm. No one calls me John."

"You're not John _Allerdyce_."

"…What the hell kind of name is 'Allerdyce'?"

"That's… that's Pyro's name."

"Huh." Johnny looked the boy over. "What's your name?"

"Bobby Drake. They call me Iceman."

"They call me the Human Torch."

"Yeah. I got that." They stared at each other uncomfortably. "You should probably go back to what you were doing. Pyro can't fly, but I hear you… can."

Johnny waved as he flew off, and reminded himself to keep an eye out for anyone else who could work a flame. He landed beside Reed, since he couldn't see Susan.

"Know of any other supers around here?" he asked over the roar of… whatever those things were. They looked like porcupines, and the tips of their bristles were acidic. The best way to deal with them was to kill the creatures before they started to roll. They'd already punctured the sides of several cars, begun to compromise building foundations, and were tearing up patches of road. Well, causing it to crackle and break apart. He pitied anyone who had to drive anywhere. Assuming their cars were still intact.

"The Avengers are in the UK," Reed replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Some guy just tried to ice me. He thought I was someone else who can control fire."

Reed snorted. "I don't think the world could handle another one of you, let alone downtown New York City."

"Piss off," Johnny said, before flaming another porcupine thing. These porcupines were, admittedly, the size of car tyres. They could use the help if there were other supers in the area. Not if there were bad supers, obviously.

"I'm letting Susan know," Reed said. Johnny envied their ability to communicate telepathically. He heard the hiss of another ubër-porcupine down the street, and flew that way, flaming one when it started to sneak out from an alleyway. He saw Iceman… ice one, and other supers – or whatever they were – taking out more of the monsters. He had no idea who was creating them, and was tempted to stop and ask if any of the others had a clue.

They were still going ten minutes later, and no closer to finding and plugging up the source. It'd be great if SHIELD were here, but there'd been no word since they'd gone underground a couple of months ago, which was a real shame. One of Johnny's favourite games had been pissing Coulson off, even after he came back to life. Hell, that gave Johnny a whole slew of new nicknames and jokes to use.

One car which had been totalled gave Johnny some inspiration when he was isolated, and saw a porcupine _climbing a fire escape_. What, these things had sticky feet now? He welded a door off, flew up, and then beat at the porcupine. It fell to the ground, and started to scuttle away again. He landed beside it, bringing the door down. The spikes went straight through it, so Johnny heated up the metal.

The porcupine was cemented in place, and Johnny carefully plucked one of the acid-tipped spikes off its back. The creature grunted, struggling, and he backed off. It trembled, and eventually shook the metal off. Johnny shielded himself, throwing up flames to fry the pieces of car door before it could hit him. The creature was about to roll itself up when he fried it, well and truly pissed off. He held onto the spike, though, and the next time he encountered a porcupine he stabbed it in the belly just as it started to roll itself into a ball. It screamed, and he covered his ears as it sort of… imploded. He stared, and then backed up quickly. It would be great if Susan was there to form a force-field, just in case it blew.

Because when it did, Johnny was grateful that he could take to the air, since he missed the way cars rocked, even exploded. One guy – oh shit, a civilian – was hit by flying parts. At least the ubër-porcupines nearby also imploded, although their explosions were comparatively minor. But Johnny felt responsible, and landed beside the guy. He shoved the twisted metal and car innards off the man's body, and then turned off the flames so he could pat his cheeks.

"Don't be dead, please don't be dead," he said. Brown eyes sprang open, and Johnny sat back in surprise.

"A little warning the next time you experiment like that, kid," the man said.

"You… just said my—"

"And you 'just said my'," he said. "Got a job to do, boy."

"Boy?"

"I was born in eighteen thirty-two. You're a kid to me."

"Um…" Johnny stood with him. "What's your name?"

"Just call me Logan." Claws popped out of each hand, startling Johnny.

"Whoa."

"You only speak in monosyllabic words?"

"Not when I'm introducing myself. I'm Johnny Storm, aka the Human Torch."

"Yeah, well, lemme do my job, and you do yours."

Johnny shrugged. "Okay. I'll find you later, then."

"Doubtful, junior, but you can try."

He frowned as Logan ran off, and decided to fly back to Reed and tell him about popping the porcupine.

…That sounded like a really painful euphemism.

* * *

"Thank you for your help," Professor X said. Johnny had already forgotten his surname, and was looking for the guy with the sideburns and tufty hair. It was cute. _He_ was cute.

"I think we helped each other," Susan said, shaking his hand. Johnny turned back, and saw that the professor was watching him. "We'll have to keep in touch. Next time Dr. Strange gets bored—"

"Send him to us. We'll keep him busy."

"Thanks so much."

"Say," Johnny said, "do you know a guy named—"

"Logan. Yes, I do. He is one of ours."

"Uh-huh. You see—"

"He is your soulmate. I am aware." Johnny gaped at him, and the professor tapped the side of his head. "My power."

"You can read minds."

"And influence people, if necessary. I cannot do that to Logan, however. But I will advise him, if I see him before you do."

"Yeah, but advise him to do what?" Johnny muttered. "Avoid me, or see me?"

"See you, naturally. We must all find our soulmates and be happy with them if we possibly can." He sounded a little sad, which intrigued Johnny.

"Who'd you lose?" he asked.

"That is unimportant. I will locate Logan, and encourage him to find you."

"Well." Johnny shrugged. "We live at the top of the Baxter. He can come via the front door and the elevator. Or, if he has another way of getting in…"

Professor X chuckled. "One never knows with Logan. Take care of him, if he lets you." He paused. "Even if he doesn't let you, take care of him all the same."

"I don't know whether he'll even come after me. He sure as hell didn't seem thrilled about me trying to find him. Or about me being his soulmate."

"Logan's as ornery as they come," a white-haired woman said, touching Johnny's shoulder. "He's had a few soulmarks, and outlived all of them."

"He mentioned something about being nearly two hundred years old. If he's with me in… seventeen years time? We'll totally throw a party, and you're all invited."

"You're planning that far ahead?" Susan asked. "Your relationships don't even last seventeen days."

"He's my soulmate, Sue. It's different."

"It is," Professor X said. "Ororo is right. He will be wary."

"I'll wait. Because damn, he's hot. And he's my soulmate. I haven't outlived a bunch of `em, so I don't know what it's like; but I'll support him. Just… send him my way when he's ready. If…"

"He will be ready someday," the professor said. Johnny sighed.

"See you around," he said. "I'll be at home, Sue."

"Take care, Johnny."

"Yeah."

He checked the area he'd last seen Logan, but there was no sign of him, and probably no clues. He flew back to the Baxter Building and landed on the roof. He took a moment or three to look out over the city they'd saved yet again, and wondered why they lived in such a trouble-magnet. But if they didn't, who'd be there to save the day when the Avengers were elsewhere? Only a bunch of people who lived in Canada, and happened to be visiting that day. At least Professor X had found Stephen Strange, who'd sequestered himself away when he realised what was happening, trying to find a way to reverse it. At least he finally had, and at the expense of zero lives.

Thus, their record remained cleaner than the Avengers'. Take that, Tony Stark.

"Been waitin' for you to show up."

Johnny whirled around, fire already dancing on his hands even though he recognised the gruff voice. But one couldn't be too careful these days.

"You disappeared," Johnny said dumbly.

"To clean up more of Strange's mess."

"And now you're here."

"As you can see."

"No more calling me 'kid'?"

"Nah." Logan looked him over with a smirk. "I'd feel like a lech."

"Good. You, uh… wanna come in for a drink?"

"I'd sure like to drink somethin'."

Johnny didn't rise to the bait, no matter how tempting it was, and led Logan down to the penthouse.

"How'd you get up here?" he asked.

"Fire escapes."

"Of course." Johnny looked at the muscles with slight jealousy. However, his next thought was the possibility of being pinned against a wall by the taller man, and his eyes must've glazed over or something, because Logan's smirk grew.

"My soulmark's on my hand," he said, showing Johnny his right palm. Johnny traced it, amused to see the twitch of the skin. And slightly nervous, considering what came out of those hands. He'd heard of this guy, come to think of it.

"You're the one they call Wolverine, aren't you?" he asked.

"That's me. Gonna show me your soulmark?"

Johnny looked up at him, and blinked slowly. "Well… not unless it's in private."

"Uh-huh?"

"It's on the back of my left thigh, but kinda high up, and I don't wanna flash my sister."

"Of course not."

"But I don't mind flashing you."

"And I don't mind screwing you against the wall, or in the shower, or in bed, or—"

"Yeah, I got that." It took a lot to make Johnny blush, but he didn't realise that he'd been backed into the wall until Logan got much closer, and Johnny found he couldn't retreat anymore. Not that he wanted to, far from it. In fact, he very much liked where things were headed. However, they were still in the stairwell, and call him a romantic, but he wanted to do this right with his soulmate. "Wait."

"What for?"

"Lube and condoms in my room. Or no condoms. It's up to you." Johnny looked down with a grin. "Literally."

"It'll be up you," Logan growled. "Up _to_ you, I mean."

"Of course. Not that I object to the other."

Logan slid his right hand down the back of Johnny's left leg and then pulled it up to hook around his waist. They kept eye contact as he pressed in close, and Johnny swallowed. It was intense, that's just the word for it. He rested his hands on Logan's shoulders, and tipped his head in for a kiss.

"Johnny! Where are you?"

He groaned in frustration. "Damn it, Susie."

"Your sister?"

"Yeah. Come on. You'd better meet the family first. Good thing I insisted on soundproofing the rooms. You try living with a married couple."

"They don't have to be married for it to be loud."

"Are we gonna be loud?" Johnny asked, and he licked his lips.

Logan smirked at the involuntary action. "The soundproofing is gonna be useless. And that, baby, is a _promise_."

Later that night, Susan and Reed were lying side by side, quiet.

"Well," she said eventually. "Now I know how it feels to be Johnny."

"I guess it was wrong to rub it in his face, that we have each other," Reed said. "That we're married."

"But we got soundproofing—"

"Yeah, and clearly it doesn't work."

"Or not well enough," Susan muttered.

"…I think it's time Johnny found a place of his own."

"Maybe another floor?"

Reed gave her a disbelieving look. "Do you really want to be in the same building as all that?" He jerked his head in the direction of Johnny's bedroom.

"…Point taken."

"Well, theirs certainly were."

Susan elbowed him in the ribs for that.

* * *

**Kunohichi8 asked for a number of Wolverine pairings, so I thought this'd be a fun suggestion to follow. Johnny thinking that he'd injured a civilian, begging Logan not to be dead, and Logan following up with a sarcastic comment.**

**Please review!**


	56. Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? (MH x PC)

**Note: Marvel has no idea what they've done casting Sherlock as Stephen Strange, have they? No idea at all…**

"Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?"

"I'll kill him one of these days, I swear to Odin," Phil said, trying to squeeze his phone to death. Fury's chuckles were _not_ helping. "I thought we had people watching Strange?"

"Don't you mean strangely?"

"You're next on the list, Nick!"

"What actually happened to the them?"

He poked his head around the corner, where his six charges were all still unconscious… and much smaller.

"They've been… de-aged, I guess. That'd be the best word for it."

"Different ages?"

"They all look about the same, and I'm _freaking out_."

Fury snorted. "Why are you freaking out, Coulson?"

"Because I don't know whether just their bodies have reverted, but Iron Man's arc reactor is gone, and Captain America looks pre-serum. He's skin and bone. At this age, I don't know whether the Black Widow speaks English, Thor will probably be wondering where his brother is, and most – if not all – of them will be asking for their parents."

"Only if their minds have reverted as well," Fury said.

"Not helping! I don't have a puffer, and I don't want Steve Rogers dying from asthma because we're not prepared for that. Do we know how long it's going to take?"

"Our people are still questioning Strange. Apparently his brother's coming over from the UK to talk to him."

"Brother? From the UK?" Phil frowned. "I didn't know he had a brother."

"And I didn't know that his name wasn't Stephen Strange, but apparently it isn't. I'll… send someone with an inhaler for Rogers. Just try to keep them calm."

"Keep _them_ calm?" Phil muttered as he hung up. "Easy for him to say."

He sighed, and folded out the sofa. Carefully, he picked up each de-aged superhero and placed them all on the bed. Thor was the heaviest, having the densest muscle tone, and Natasha was the lightest, all lithe and probably underfed. Clint and Bruce were light as well, but not as much as Steve, who felt fragile as well. Tony wasn't too bad, and when Phil prodded his chest gently, there was no gaping cavity to worry about. That didn't explain the arc reactor's disappearance, though.

He tip-toed to the kitchen area and quietly poured out six cups of the juice he knew they liked. Then he poured raisins into one bowl, crackers into another, and hoped that that would be both substantial and sweet enough. Assuming Steve didn't have any allergies which would kill him on the spot. Was he colour-blind again? Phil pursed his lips, worried.

"Agent Coulson, the Avengers are stirring," JARVIS informed him softly.

"Thank you, JARVIS."

Leaving the snacks behind, he walked back into the living area, and stood in front of the sofa. Clint was the first to wake. He tensed, eyes darting everywhere, and then he sprang up.

"Where am I?" he said.

_Shit_, Phil thought.

"Hey, calm down," he said, holding out his hands. Clint turned large eyes on him, and Phil perched on the edge of the bed. He noticed the others also shifting around. "I'm Phil. I'll be looking after you for awhile. Something… happened, I'm not sure what, but some, uh, friends of mine are trying to fix it. You've gotta stay here for awhile."

"Why?"

Oh, a child's favourite word.

"So that you'll be safe," he said. Clint looked at the others, who were all staring at them now. Phil smiled reassuringly, and gave them a wave. Jeez, they looked to be about five years old, or thereabouts. "There's a… a big robot that runs this house. His name is JARVIS. You can't see him because he's invisible, but he's always there. If I'm not with you, or if something happens, you make sure to let JARVIS know."

"A robot?" Clint said, tilting his head.

"That's right."

"Robots can't be invisible," Tony scoffed, plonking down beside Phil. "They're things. Things can't be invisible."

"Some things can," Phil said. "And this robot was made by a very smart man."

"Who?"

"Uh… his last name is Stark."

"That's _my_ last name!"

"So you remember… you know who you are?"

"Duh," Clint said, kicking Tony's knee. Phil frowned at him. "Why wouldn't we?"

"One, don't kick Tony, and two, you were all… asleep when I found you. I wanted to make sure you didn't have concussion."

"Where is this place?" Steve asked, trying to get down from the sofa bed.

"We're still in New York City."

"Where is that?" Thor asked.

"Earth," Phil said. "Uh, Midgard."

"Ah, Midgard! I have long wondered what it may be like. Tell me, is my family aware?"

"I imagine so," Phil said, nodding. "I believe all your families know, or will know."

Natasha started babbling something in Russian. Phil couldn't keep up, only getting a few phrases. But Thor was listening intently. Phil absently stroked Tony's hair, wondering at the please little purr he got for his efforts.

"What did she say?" he asked Thor when Natasha had stopped speaking.

"You did not understand?"

"Only a little bit of it."

"She wished to know why she was in America."

Phil winced internally, but maintained a stoic expression.

"I don't know her full story yet," he said, which was half-true. "She doesn't remember anything about that?"

"The last she remembers is being home."

"Oh." Phil was baffled as Bruce climbed past Tony into his lap, and watched anxiously as Thor helped Steve onto the ground, waiting for something to break.

"I'm hungry," Clint said.

"I'll bet you are."

"Can I have something?" Phil smiled.

"It just so happens that I've got some snacks waiting for hungry mouths," he said. "Why don't you all sit around the coffee table? We've only got grown-up furniture here."

"Why?" Tony whined. "I wanna sit on chairs."

"Because… we don't get many children around here. Not the single-digit kind of children, anyway," he added to himself. He tried to stand up, but Bruce wouldn't be shifted. He stared at Phil with imploring eyes, and the agent couldn't help melting just a little. He stood up, keeping Bruce on his hip, and waited for the others to hop off the sofa. Thor was talking to Natasha, hopefully conveying the conversation. Luckily, the sofa bed folded back with a button, so he made sure that the children were out of the way, and then returned to the kitchen.

"Is that for us?" Bruce asked, peeking at the tray.

"It sure is. Can you keep very, very still?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"What if I don't?"

Phil nearly rolled his eyes. "Then I'll end up spilling the juice, and we'll all have to clean up the mess."

"Will you hit me?"

"What?" Phil stared at Bruce, all humour gone. "No, of course not. No. I'd never hurt you, Bruce." He squeezed him close, stroking his hair. "Just stay still. I'm pretty good at this." If he couldn't handle a tray full of snacks while a five-year-old scientific genius was clinging to his waist, he had no business being a SHIELD agent.

While the two steps initially presented a problem, the Avengers mostly stayed put, Natasha a silent statue, while he placed the tray on the coffee table. Then he deposited Bruce on the end and handed around the drinks.

"Now you have to _share_ these," he said, putting the bowls in the middle. "You know how to share, right?" They all looked at him silently. "O… kay. I'll be back in a minute. Try not to make too much of a mess, alright? Because I won't be cleaning it up on my own. Behave yourselves and we can watch a movie."

"What is a movie?" Thor asked at the same time that Steve said, "We can watch a movie _here_?"

"Oh, brother," Phil muttered.

* * *

Fury glared at the screen. More to the point, he glared at the man on the other side of the screen, who merely took a sip of tea.

"How long until you get here?" Fury said. "`Cause I've got one agent dealing with a bunch of five-year-old superheroes who don't remember anything beyond that age, and your brother is _responsible_."

"Actually, Sherlock is quite _ir_responsible, you'll find," Mycroft Holmes said, tapping the head of his umbrella. He kept it with him for good reason, even on aeroplanes.

"Yeah, we've _found_ that out for ourselves! Now, I wouldn't give a damn ordinarily, but we need a cure as soon as possible. Steve Rogers apparently has all his old health problems back, and we're not prepared for that."

"If I had known that Sherlock would decide to take on a different persona when he went to America, I would have kept him behind," Mycroft said.

"That's not good enough, Mr. Holmes!" Fury growled. "What's your ETA?"

"My estimated time of arrival at the John F. Kennedy Airport is five hours and thirty-two minutes."

"We'll have someone pick you up there."

"My people—"

"_My_ people are in the sky," Fury said, interrupting him. Mycroft arched an eyebrow, but it had no effect on the director of SHIELD. "A Quinjet will bring you to our Helicarrier so you can see your brother."

"Oh joy."

"I'm sensing a lotta family love between you."

"Have you told Sherlock that I am on my way?"

"Not yet." Fury half-smirked. "I'm savin' that for a surprise."

"There is little point in attempting to surprise my brother, Commander Fury. However, you are welcome to try. If you will excuse me, I must prepare some documents."

_And find out how Sherlock gained 'magical powers'_, he thought as he hung up on Fury. Mycroft sighed, and opened his briefcase.

* * *

Thor managed to translate quite a bit for Natasha, and they watched movies which had subtitles in Russian, so that she could keep up with the dialogue. Phil wasn't having too much trouble at the moment, considering that their collective age – barring Thor's indeterminate years – was younger than Phil. The Avengers' friends had all been notified of the situation, and Phil was pretty sure that Heimdall had heard him yelling the situation while the kids watched the TV.

He felt like a nanny as he kept checking on them, bringing additional snacks for Thor and Clint, and checking on Steve to make sure he wasn't dying. They had a puffer for him, and an insulin kit, neither of which he knew how to use, bless his socks.

And their feet. Their tiny feet and hands and noses and Phil wasn't getting clucky, of course he wasn't. He just thought that his charges were exceptionally cute when they were younger. But then they were _his_ kids, so naturally they were cute.

"Getting on to dinner," he said, checking his watch. "What would you like to eat?"

He received a barrage of replies, and fought the urge to cover his ears. He held up his hands, calling for quiet.

"I'll order takeout," he said. "I don't think any of you have allergies, but if you do, now's the time to speak up." They just stared at him again, in that unnerving way. He nodded. "I'll get pizza. And we've got other things in the fridge and freezer and pantry, so we won't starve."

"D'you want my dad to pay for the pizza?" Tony asked, eyes still glued to Thumper and Bambi as they slid on the ice. "He's a millionaire."

"No, that's alright, Tony."

"My father is the king of Asgard!" Thor said. Not the first time he'd mentioned it. "He can provide you with anything you require!"

"That's… very kind, Thor, but it's unnecessary. Don't you worry about things like money." He touched Natasha's hair, and she looked up at him. "I'm here to look after you, and keep the bad people away. Whatever it takes to protect you. Okay?"

They all agreed, and went back to watching the movie. Phil walked back to the kitchen and created a child-appropriate order. He wasn't sure how their immature palates would handle some of the gourmet ingredients of Tony's favourite pizza restaurant. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned around and saw Natasha there. She barely reached his knee, and it was both terrifying and adorable. Not that he would ever mention the latter to her.

"Hello," he said, trying to remember his limited Russian. "Can I help you?" He squatted down in front of her, meeting her eyes so she wouldn't have to crane her neck.

"Where is my family?" she asked.

Phil exhaled slowly. "We… we are your family for now."

She studied him with a solemnity out of place on a five-year-old. "I wish you were my father."

He wasn't sure how to take that until she held out her arms. He picked her up and let her cuddle close, standing when she wound her legs around his torso and clung on. He made himself a coffee one-handed, smiling as her red hair tickled his nose.

"I can be your father for a little while," he said. "If you want me to."

She nodded against his shoulder, and he ignored the pricking at the corners of his eyes.

* * *

Sherlock stared at Mycroft.

"You took your time," he said.

"I was in no rush."

"Not even to free your errant younger brother?"

"No," Mycroft said. "There are more important matters taking place, as you know."

"Which is why I'm in New York," Sherlock said.

"Precisely." Mycroft narrowed his eyes. "You are _not_ here to undo years of diplomacy by pretending to have supernatural powers and using them against intelligence allies."

"Are we still calling it 'intelligence'?"

"_Fix it_, Sherlock. Or I'll tell Mummy."

"Our parents would no doubt find a trip to America invigorating."

"Mr. Holmes?" Fury said. Mycroft glanced at the director, and took a second look at the man beside him. Shorter, wearing a good suit, slightly receding hairline, apparently a bit stressed, no doubt a high level agent, and glaring nastily at Mycroft's brother. "This is Phil Coulson, handler to the Avengers. He's taken half an hour off baby-sitting them to be here, so make it quick."

"Thank you, director," Agent Coulson said. He ignored Mycroft and walked up to the window. Sherlock was watching him. "Do you know how to reverse what you've done to my team?"

"Not yet. I was attempting to—"

"So you don't have a solution yet?"

"No, but—"

"Can you find one?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "Yes, if—"

"Then do it. Because each day that my team is stuck like this means another bad thing which _will_ happen to you, even after you fix the problem. I don't like people messing with my team. The last time someone did something even _approaching_ this level of intrusiveness towards my people, you know what I did?"

"I am sure you will tell me."

"Well, put it this way. They never found _every_ part of her body, so there wasn't much to go in the coffin."

"Her?"

"Do you think gender matters much when it's _my team_ which has been affected?"

"You should listen to him, brother," Mycroft advised. "He sounds serious."

"He _is_ serious," Fury said. "Ever heard of Kay Diplock?"

"No."

"And you won't, because she went after the Avengers, and Phil found out."

Sherlock seemed paler than usual, and Mycroft could understand; both Agent Coulson and Director Fury were telling the truth.

"I'll take care of this," Mycroft said to the agent.

"Thanks," he replied, and he looked Mycroft over. "Nice umbrella."

Sherlock started choking on air, and Mycroft stared as his soulmate walked back down the hallway, followed by Fury.

"That was… unexpected," he murmured to himself.

"Mycroft, will you get me out of here?"

"Not until you have come up with a solution to this problem you have created."

"But, Mycroft." Sherlock leaned forward. "It sounds as though you being his soulmate will have no impact on how I—"

"And so it shouldn't," Mycroft said sternly. "You have sown your own seeds, Sherlock. Now reverse this, or my soulmate may never speak to me again, and I will happily ensure that you are kept in SHIELD custody indefinitely. Perhaps it will even be safer for you?"

"Mycroft!"

"Honestly? 'Stephen Strange'? It's as though you weren't even trying."

* * *

As soon as he set foot in the elevator, JARVIS took Phil straight to his floor. Phil had set up seven camp-beds in his lounge area, and Pepper had sent appropriate children's clothes and food to him. He figured that it was best to keep them all together, as long as he was there. They were all asleep when he arrived… except for Tony, who was tossing and turning. Phil touched his shoulder, and Tony gasped awake Phil sat beside him.

"Phil?"

"I'm here."

"You're…" Tony noticed him, and threw his hands around Phil's middle. "Space. There were… stars… and aliens…"

"I know," Phil said, rubbing Tony's back gently. "I'm here now. I'm sorry. I won't leave you again."

Tony sniffled. "Promise?"

"I promise. I'll just be over here. Do you… want a song?"

"Uh-huh."

They better not remember any of this, or Phil would never live it down. He glanced up, and saw Steve, Clint, and Natasha all watching him. Chances were that Thor and Bruce were as well. They could all be light sleepers; apparently being children didn't change that. Or maybe it's because they were children? Phil didn't have that kind of experience.

Natasha's wide eyes inspired him, and he shuffled onto his side, letting Tony lie down by him.

"_Where the dreamy Volga flows, there's a lonely Russian rose gazing tenderly down upon her knee, where a baby's brown eyes glisten…_"

He crooned softly, noticing Steve's smile as the boy recognised the Irving Berlin song.

"Nice," Tony mumbled. Phil stroked his floppy hair, reminded of Bruce. He continued to sing, anything he could think of, until all his charges were sleeping again. He detangled himself from Tony's little hands, and retreated to his cold bed.

* * *

It was another two days before Sherlock developed an antidote. Mycroft assisted where he could, between bouts of smoothing things over with the American government, and trying to coordinate everything back home.

And considered his soulmate.

Mycroft had informed Fury, who then gave him a limited file on Phil Coulson. He had read it cover to cover and back, and still found his soulmate to be a mystery, one he was looking forward to unravelling.

"You should take this," Sherlock said, handing over the bottle. "They must ingest it."

"Very well."

Now here he was, waiting in the lift at Stark Tower. He was intrigued to find that Stark's Artificial Intelligence had a British accent.

"It will be a relief to have the Avengers back to normal," JARVIS said. "They could be considered charming as children, but they may be needed at a moment's notice."

"How has Agent Coulson handled it?"

"With great equanimity, Mr. Holmes, as always."

"Indeed?"

"I believe he has found it to be easier than looking after the Avengers when they are in their ordinary forms."

Mycroft chuckled, cutting himself off when the doors opened. He walked through, past a kitchen, until he found his soulmate reading to a group of six juvenile superheroes. The look on Coulson's face as he read… it sounded like _The Magic Faraway Tree_, judging by the original names of the characters. Mycroft remembered the Nanny Squad when they were pushing for the children's names to be changed. Enid Blyton, regardless. Coulson looked like he was having fun, the timbre of his voice changing with the characters. The Avengers were watching him, rapt, as he occasionally gestured with his hand. When he came to the end of a chapter, Mycroft cleared his throat, and Coulson looked up.

"Mr. Holmes, isn't it?" he said.

"Yes. May I have a word, Agent Coulson?"

"Of course."

"Can't you read us some more?" one of the children asked. A boy with messy hair and glasses, like a very young Harry Potter. Of course Mycroft had read the books; part of his job was keeping abreast of huge tourist draws, as greater influxes of people were to be noticed. And of course it was imperative to read _all_ of them. (As long as Sherlock didn't know, nobody knew.)

"Soon, Bruce," Coulson said. "I just have to speak with Mr. Holmes. I won't be long."

When they were in the kitchen – how utterly domestic, Mycroft nearly shuddered – he pulled the bottle out of the bag he was carrying. Coulson's expression fell.

"They must ingest it in equal measure," Mycroft explained. "My brother has promised not to experiment on super humans again."

"Only super humans? And not all of them are enhanced."

"My brother likes to experiment on anything for the sake of his work, and sometimes for the sake of his own amusement. He wished to see whether there were differences in the results between the… unique people in your team. That my brother is the type to take a riding crop to corpses must give you some idea of his character."

Coulson raised an eyebrow, but didn't reply to that. He stared at the liquid, and sighed.

"It's nice for them to be kids for awhile, without having to worry about taking care of the world whenever trouble comes a-knocking in the form of aliens or supervillains or whoever the Big Bad of the week is. When they're not being superheroes, they're doing other work, usually life-saving work. They don't get many opportunities to relax, and it's been… nice seeing them like this." He placed the bottle on the kitchen bench. "I'll miss it."

Mycroft touched his shoulder. "What will you do if they do not remember this?" he asked.

"Get JARVIS to wipe the footage of anything particularly embarrassing."

"For them?"

"Yes."

"And… for you."

Coulson rubbed his eyes. "Yeah."

Mycroft could have 'deduced' any number of things about his soulmate, but chose not to expose that particular skill of his just yet. He leaned his hip against the bench beside Coulson, and cleared his throat.

"Do you remember my first words to you?" he asked.

"Not really. Sorry."

"Because these were your first words to me." He rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, revealing 'Thanks. Nice umbrella'. Coulson straightened up, nearly knocking the bottle.

"That's my writing," he said.

"Is your soulmark 'I'll take care of this'?"

"Yes." Coulson blinked. "Holy shit."

"Quite," Mycroft said, steadfastly not reacting to the profanity.

"Um…" Coulson glanced away, then back to Mycroft. "I'm not… terribly interested in sex. Not that you're not attractive, because you are, I can see that, and I'm not aromantic, or at least I don't think so. I've just never really enjoyed sex, and never had a real relationship because of it. I don't see the point to it other than procreation, and science has made that unnecessary—"

"I have no expectations in that regard."

"The procreation?" Coulson asked, with a twitch at the corner of his mouth. Mycroft fought a smile.

"I have never engaged in any relationships before, either. I would, however, like a friend. Sherlock worries – he doesn't say it, but I know that he does – that I will end up alone. Emotionally. As you and I work in different countries, perhaps phone calls and emails will suffice? And visits?"

"We could still bond. It'd be nice to have someone to depend on when everything else goes to hell. I think… if we made that connection, and talked to each other at least once a week, then maybe things wouldn't look so bleak."

Mycroft smiled, truly smiled. "That is a very sound solution. Speaking of solutions…" He gestured to the antidote, and Coulson grinned ruefully.

"I guess I should administer it," he said. "Don't know what the hell to tell them. I've been honest but evasive so far, tried so hard not to lie."

"You know them better than anyone," Mycroft said. "That is why you were chosen to look after them, rather than professional child-minders. And you appear to have done a wonderful job so far."

"They're my team. My people."

"Am I one of your people now?" It was strange, but Mycroft wished to hear a positive answer. He was relieved when Coulson nodded.

"Of course," he said. "Or you will be. I'll call you. Can I get your phone number?"

Mycroft slipped a business card into Coulson's suit pocket. "Anytime you need to chat. I am used to odd time zones."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Good luck, Agent Coulson."

"Call me Phil."

He inclined his head. "Call me Mycroft."

* * *

Phil brought out a tray of juice. The liquid inside the bottle smelled sickly sweet, and he hoped the children… the _Avengers_ didn't choke on it.

"Juice!" Natasha said. She'd learnt some words and phrases of English, thanks to Thor, and she seemed content just to listen to his voice. It was sweet, that they took pleasure from such simple things.

"Don't drink up yet," Phil said. "It's not just juice. There's… something else in it."

"What?" Tony asked suspiciously.

"Something which'll help you all grow up."

"I want to grow up!" Thor said, raising his hand as though he was clutching Mjolnir.

"Do we have to grow up so soon?" Bruce asked, blinking up at Phil. His heart clenched.

"Not right away," he said. "Not if you don't want to. I can go put the juice away."

"Juice," Natasha said, tugging on his trouser leg.

"If you want a cup of juice, just help yourself," Phil said, placing the tray on the table. Thor took a cup, and so did Clint and Steve. Natasha helped herself as well. Tony sniffed his first, and Bruce reluctantly picked up his cup.

"Aren't you gonna have some, Phil?" Steve said.

"I'm already grown up," he said.

"Will it make me big and strong?"

_I hope so_, he thought. "Only one way to find out, isn't there? Wait." He took Natasha's hand. "Why don't you drink it in the bathroom?" She tipped her head. "Come with me."

He led her to the bathroom and left her there. Then he asked JARVIS to make sure they were alright as he grabbed them replacement clothes. By the time he was back on the common level, he found his Avengers back to normal, if unconscious again. He placed a pile of clothes next to each of them, and waited outside the bathroom for Natasha.

"Agent Romanov is stirring, sir," JARVIS said. After ten seconds, Phil knocked on the door.

"Natasha?" he said. "I mean, Agent Romanov?"

"I'm okay, Phil."

"I'll leave your clothes out here." He placed them on the floor. "How do you feel?"

"Alright."

"You remember English?"

"Clearly."

Short answers. He smiled sadly.

"Join us when you're ready," he said. "I'll make sure the others are dressed."

"Thank you, Coulson."

The men were already clothed by the time he got back to the area, chatting and laughing over something or other. Phil coughed, and they looked over at him.

"Feeling more like yourselves?" he asked.

"Yeah," Clint said. "Thanks, Coulson."

He'd been getting used to 'Phil'. He grinned through his hurt.

"Yes, you're back to normal," he said. "I'll be at SHIELD making my report."

He was nearly at the elevator when someone came running. He looked over his shoulder, and Steve nearly ran into him.

"Uh…"

"Yes, Captain Rogers?"

"I'm sorry," he said.

"For what?"

"For lying. We knew… We were just disoriented at the start."

Phil had a sinking feeling. "You knew who I was the whole time."

"Yeah."

"So… I didn't have to butcher the Russian tongue."

"That's what you take from all of this?"

He cleared his throat again. "I'll, uh… be at SHIELD, as I said."

"Phil—"

"Very good joke. But you should have told me, instead of letting me treat you like…"

"Like children?" Phil nodded. "But… Memories aside, our instincts and reactions were child-like. Because that's what we were, physically."

"And now you're not."

"Did you think we'd forget?" Tony asked.

"More like hoped you would." Phil pressed the elevator button, and stepped in when the doors opened. "I won't be more than a couple of hours."

"Promise?"

The doors closed on Phil's fake smile. He rested against the wall.

"Did I screw things up, JARVIS?" he asked.

"I do not believe so, sir," he said.

"Did you _know_ that they knew who I was?"

"No, sir. They must have taken physical cues from each other."

"Great. Of all the times for them to start communicating silently."

On the drive to SHIELD, he considered Mycroft Holmes. Excellent taste in suits. A mad scientist for a brother. Apparently about as interested in a sexual relationship as Phil, which made a nice change. He'd tried, he really had, because he figured that his soulmate would want that. He should've trusted Fate to know what she was doing. He didn't have a problem with love, of course not; he loved the Avengers on some level, because they were his… no, not children, not anymore. His responsibility, though. Whether he could _fall in love_ with Mycroft was another matter.

* * *

"How is your soulmate faring?" Sherlock asked. Mycroft made no moves to unlock the chains binding Sherlock to the chair.

"Well."

"Did you talk?"

"Of course we did."

"You know what I meant," Sherlock said, giving Mycroft a significant look. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"We hold the same expectations, or lack thereof," he said. Sherlock smirked.

"Good," he said.

"We spoke on the drive here."

"Did he get a shock when you pulled up beside him?"

Mycroft cocked his head. "If he did, I didn't notice it. He appears to be the unflappable type."

"What has been decided?"

Finally, Mycroft unchained his brother.

"He will remain in America, where he is needed," he said. "I will return to England with you, where _I_ am needed, and where _you_ are safe from my soulmate. He is terribly upset with you."

"Is that an understatement?"

"_Yes_."

"Ah." Sherlock hummed as he rubbed his wrists. "Will you maintain contact?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Will you bond?"

"We did, in the back of the car." Mycroft touched the outside of his arm, where his soulmark was. There was still a gentle throbbing, but it would fade by the time they arrived at the airport. "He suggested that we be each other's beacons of sanity. As we are both used to travel, we will meet when we can, to commiserate and to renew the bond."

"I suppose you will need the occasional break from looking after Great Britain," Sherlock said. Mycroft snorted delicately.

"You mean a break from looking after _you_?" he corrected. Sherlock's eyebrows drew together. "We compared our respective problems. I only have one. Were I to be faced with six of you?" He shook his head. "God help my soulmate."

* * *

Phil was unaccountably nervous as he brought takeaway home to the tower. When he arrived on the common level to head to the kitchen, he could hear the television, set to one of the news channels. He began to take out small plates, when he remembered that he was looking after adults again, and took out the normal dinner plates with a heavy heart.

"Come get your food when you're hungry!" he called. "JARVIS?"

"Yes, Agent Coulson?"

"I'm gonna get changed. Make sure they leave something for me, yeah?"

"Of course, sir."

"Thanks."

When he got back downstairs, now in mufti and much more comfortable for it, he went through to the kitchen and saw a plate of his favourites. He smiled, and carried it through to the living room, where they all ate while the sports news played in the background.

"JARVIS told us that was your soulmate," Tony said.

"That's correct."

"Are you going to live with him?" Steve asked.

"No. Neither of us are interested in pursuing a relationship of that nature. As long as you want me, I'll be here."

There were no more questions after that. Bruce helped Phil carry the dishes back to the kitchen and put them away. He disappeared back to the living room while Phil made sure that all the garbage had been packed away. He followed the scientist, intrigued when he realised that the television was off. The Avengers were all seated in front of the armchair where he'd read to them before bedtime the last couple of nights. Natasha held out _The Magic Faraway Tree_.

"Read?" she inquired in Russian.

Slowly, Phil made his way over and settled into the armchair, cracking open the book to the right page. He gave them all a warning look.

"If this is just a joke, I'm resigning," he said.

"You promised you wouldn't leave us," Clint said.

"That's because—"

"Can we save the touchy-feely conversation until after the book's finished?" Tony grumbled. "Don't ruin the momentum."

Phil relaxed back into the armchair, and resumed reading.

* * *

**Daw! I wanted to write something where Phil thinks the de-aged Avengers don't know who he is, and goes all Papa-Phil on them. Then I decided to incorporate it as a soulmate thing, saw that Zyrieen had suggested Mycroft/Phil at some point, and decided to drag him in as Sherlock aka Strange's brother. Because the idea amused me, and we know what happens when an idea amuses me.**

**Also, at one point I was chatting with a reader about soulmate lore, and what happens if someone is asexual or aromantic. So that's what happened here as well. (I apologise to anyone who wanted/expected suit porn.) I've written a number of platonic soulmate pairings along with the non-platonic ones. My take is that everyone (well, mostly everyone) has a soul, and that if they have a soul they have the capacity to have a strong connection with someone else. They decide for themselves what that connection will be.**

**Please review!**


	57. Underground (Bakshi x Jemma)

"Underground"

It was dark, so very dark, and Jemma tried to keep taking deep breaths. She pulled out her phone, and going against horror movie clichés, the battery was very nearly full. She used the light to see around the lab.

Some of the specialists, no doubt, had been mucking around with explosive devices which hadn't been properly tested yet. Jemma had been downstairs, trying to find the remote which would control the explosions, as all the others had been removed as some sort of prank. Honestly, they should never let anyone other than scientists on campus!

Unfortunately, something had gone wrong, and now Jemma was underground, below very unstable floors in a compromised building. At least the wi-fi was intact, and she checked the academy's Twitter account…

Oh.

_Complete evac until site declared safe. Notify staff if you're in trouble. Teams will be sent in after evaluation. #cave-in #SHIELD_

There were other tweets from students, but no one else appeared to be downstairs. It was understandable; Jemma had only come down for the remote control, and she had to obtain a pass to do so.

Well, the building couldn't collapse on her, no matter the ominous creaking from the ceiling. She had yet to meet her soulmate, with his – or possibly her – cheesy pick-up line. She couldn't die before then.

Part of the ceiling crackled and fell. She yelped, and pushed herself back, coughing at the dust stirred up. There was a groan from just outside, and she crawled to the doorway. A man out in the corridor, rubbing his head as he leaned against a wall. He looked up as she shuffled out, and waved. Jemma moved to his side to inspect him for any possible injuries, and placed her phone beside her with the torch setting on.

Gosh, but he was handsome. Dark hair, dark eyes… well, everything down here was dark, but the whites of his eyes were bright enough in the glow of her mobile phone, and she smiled as she pulled his hand away from his head.

"So what's a nice girl like you doing in a disaster like this?" he said.

Jemma sat on her heels. It felt like the world was about to come crashing down on her. Perhaps it now would.

"I could very well ask you the same question," she said, a lump forming in her throat. She sat beside him, tears coming to her eyes, and leaned against him as he swore.

"What a time to meet my soulmate," he muttered.

"We might die down here."

"The rescue teams will find us."

"I was so sure I'd get out because I hadn't found you yet, but now you're here, and…" She sniffled, and he wound an arm around her side.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I think I said something terribly trite?"

"You did, you did," she said, smiling as she rubbed the tears from her cheeks. "Hello. In case we die soon," she held out her hand, "I'm Jemma Simmons."

"You're a student here?"

"Yes."

"So you're a doctor?"

"That's right. From England."

"So I can tell," he said, and she noticed his eyes shining in amusement. He really was attractive, and under other circumstances she might have considered herself quite fortunate. As it was, they might die in each other's arms. Not a bad way to go, but then they'd never gone on a date together, barely had a conversation.

"You're from the UK as well," she said.

"That I am."

"Are you a student?"

"Not even a doctorate to my name. I'm just passing through."

"Right." She turned her head to look at him again, and was horrified to notice a slight trickle of dark liquid from his hairline. "Oh! I was going to… Wait a moment." She knelt up and used her phone to inspect the damage. "Does it hurt a great deal?"

"I can't feel any pain when I look at you."

Jemma closed her eyes, in pain herself, and rested her nose in his hair. It smelt dusty, and she nearly sneezed. He squeezed her waist, and she looked down at him.

"I banged it on the edge of a table when the explosion shook the building, and I fell down," he said. "I was mid-step; I'm not normally that clumsy."

"It was a big explosion," she said. "I'm lucky I wasn't near anything, else I might have hurt myself as well." She wiped away the blood. "Do you feel dizzy?"

"Not from that."

"Would you stop flirting? This is hardly the time for it. If… if you are flirting?"

"I _am_ flirting," he said dryly. "You're a physicist?"

"Bio-chemist, predominantly."

"All the same when it comes to flirting. It seems that the more attractive the scientist, the less likely they are to notice someone's interest in them."

Jemma patted her hair down, not that it did her any good. "It's still awful timing."

"And if it's the only time we have left?"

She knelt back down to his level again, setting her phone aside.

"You haven't told me your name," she said.

"I'd rather save my breath for other things," he said, leaning in, and leaving her that last inch. She heard the foundations creak again, and met his lips.

If this was it, she wasn't going without a kiss.

It seemed most unromantic, being snogged half to death on the floor of a building that may collapse upon them at any moment, but Jemma couldn't bring herself to care. She might die, so damned if she wasn't going to enjoy herself with her soulmate for however long they had left. She spread her legs when he touched her inner thighs, and he lay between them, one hand cupping her head and the other under her back. She curled one leg around his, and held on for dear life.

"Keep kissing me," she whined when he raised his head. The numerous little kisses along her neck didn't count. "Please."

"Of all the days to meet you," he said.

"Please, don't stop."

Her ring-tone interrupted them, and she groaned.

"Fitz, _no_," she said.

"Fitz?"

"My best friend. That's our ring-tone for each other." He handed her the phone. "Thank you." She answered it. "Yes, Fitz? Still below ground. No, I'm not alone. One other person. I'm fine, we're both… as well as can be expected. Don't panic, Fitz! It _does_ sound as though the ceiling may collapse on us at any given moment, but… How long? An hour? Where should we…? Very well. No, I'm mainly concerned about the amount of washing I'll have to do." Her soulmate chuckled into her skin, and Jemma smiled despite the ludicrous situation. "We'll wait there. Yes, see you in an hour or so." She ended the call, and sighed. "I hope."

"Whatever will we do for an hour?"

"No idea, but I know where we have to go. One of the vaults. It's cold, but we can leave the door propped open. Very strong. Apparently it's based on a bunker?"

"Then let's go." He rolled off and held out a hand to help her stand up. He played with her ponytail as they walked. "An hour?"

"Before we're rescued," she said. "At the most, according to Fitz."

"I can do a great deal in an hour."

"I'm sure you can."

"But?"

"But… it's not exactly hygienic."

He burst out laughing, and Jemma winced.

"How sweet you are," he said. "I wouldn't take you all the way on a first date."

"Does this count as a date?"

"No."

"Do you want to… bond?"

He cupped her face. "_Definitely_ not so soon. If these were our last minutes on Earth… but they aren't."

"Won't you tell me your name?"

"Sunil," he murmured, and he nuzzled her nose.

* * *

SHIELD fell. HYDRA was exposed. Fitz nearly died, and Jemma was going spare. When Director Coulson gave her an undercover assignment, she jumped at the chance to do something useful, something necessary. It was terrifying, but she'd been frightened for her life before and came out of it unscathed. Admittedly, being rescued from a building which was about to fall apart was quite different, and she'd had her soulmate by her side.

They'd escaped relatively unscathed. He'd promised to find her, before being led off by a medical team. But then he was a specialist, she presumed, and they had long-term undercover assignments, so when she didn't hear from him she assumed that he was off the grid. Then she was caught up with the 616 team, dragged into danger again and again. So much for thinking that a plane would be any safer than an underground lab.

Although those vaults did give her some _very_ pleasant memories…

Then, as stated before, SHIELD fell. Everything went crazy. Jemma Simmons was wiped from every system, her parents were informed that she was 'dead' (they probably knew that she was still alive), and then she was trapped _under the ocean_. Far less pleasant memories were stirred up, and she wished that Sunil was there. At least Fitz was…

Declaring non-platonic feelings for her, because he still didn't know.

Everything had gone wrong, and she just wanted to get away for awhile. Coulson sneaked her out of the Playground after an intense couple of weeks of undercover training with both the director and May. Then she was on her own, infiltrating HYDRA the way that terrorist organisation had infiltrated SHIELD at the start: through science.

It was nerve-wracking, but she hid her nerves under her clothes, her haircut, behind her goggles. Behind her first love, science.

She was doing this for her family. For SHIELD.

For science.

What HYDRA intended to do with it? It was despicable, and went against all her moral codes. All the great scientists would be horrified, and Jemma felt unclean for playing her part, even though that's all it was. A role in a twisted pantomime. Mr. Mole from _Wind in the Willows_ she wasn't.

Then she got into a lift at work one day, nearly running late, with the person she truly least expected.

"Oh my God," she said, staring at him. Sunil's eyes widened, but he didn't reply. Little wonder; they weren't alone. A woman with dark hair was beside him, and a man with glasses and grey hair.

"Late?" the woman asked, looking Jemma up and down.

"I'm usually at least twenty minutes early. It'll only be about two minutes today."

"Don't make a habit out of being only a _little_ bit early every day." Jemma blushed when she realised that the woman was teasing.

"Do you usually have women saying 'Oh my God' when they see you, Bakshi?" the man with glasses asked.

"No, Mr. Whitehall," Sunil replied. So his last name was Bakshi. Why did that name seem familiar? But then…

"Oh, I'm so sorry, sir," Jemma said, eyes widening. She knew _exactly_ who Daniel Whitehall was.

"I'm curious about your reaction," Whitehall said, glancing at Sunil with a questioning eyebrow tilt. Sunil cleared his throat.

"Dr. Simmons and I met some time ago," he said. "I was unable to contact her, and then she dropped off the radar completely." He half-smiled. "We're soulmates."

"Really?" the woman said.

"Yes," Jemma said. Oh Lord. Her soulmate was HYDRA. She knew her face must have fallen an alarming extent, because the other three frowned. "I… I hope you're grateful that we're in a crowded lift, otherwise I might've been tempted to slap you on sight for making me wait this long. But I suppose… I can't complain." She forced herself to smile. "I was beginning to think I'd never see you again."

Then the lift stopped on her level, and her heart sank again. She stepped out, and looked back at Sunil.

"I'll find you later," he said. "I promise."

"You'd better," she said, and the doors closed.

* * *

Of course, the next time she saw him – the first time alone – was when he was confronting her about Donnie Gill. She was aware that favouritism couldn't be shown, and that there would undoubtedly be cameras and bugs.

"What else are you hiding?" he asked. She could tell by the way that his hands twitched slightly that he didn't want to be interrogating her, and it gave her a warm feeling.

"I didn't want to corrupt my analysis, analysis which I'd done before I knew who it was. I… I barely knew him."

"You saved his life," he said.

"Only because I happened to be at the academy giving a lecture," she said.

"You seem nervous."

She was tempted to scoff, but before she had the chance, he sat on the table beside the file, looking at her seriously.

"Is this about us?"

_You're HYDRA_, she thought. "You're my boss," she said.

"Not really."

"No, but you must be higher up the chain than I am."

"Nothing I can do about that, Jemma."

"Now you call me Jemma?" she asked, but she smiled to take the sting out of it. He chuckled.

"This is incredibly awkward," he said, shaking his head.

"You… don't have to do anything. If you don't want to."

"Such as?"

"Well…" Cheekiness reared its spy-ish head. "Me, for example."

He shifted on the table, averting his eyes. "The thought crossed my mind."

"We're soulmates, Mr. Bakshi."

"You can call me Sunil, when we're alone."

She held out a hand, and he cupped it in his. Calluses. What kind of work did he do for Whitehall?

"Where are your loyalties?" he asked, tracing each of her fingers.

"W-with science," she said, stuttering at the tickle. He raised an eyebrow without looking at her. "You can't expect me to answer properly when you're doing that."

"I remember how sensitive your skin is," he said, and he lowered her hand. He finally met her eyes again, and they hardened. "You know I have to keep questioning you."

"Professional while here, less… professional elsewhere?"

He gave her a small smile, and slid off the table. "I'm sorry if I appear abrupt at times, but—"

"No, I understand." She did, unfortunately. "We both have our jobs to do. I won't think any less of you for doing yours." Except she did think less of him. He worked for HYDRA, and would obviously presume that she was on their side. A natural presumption, considering that they were soulmates.

"Let's discuss your previous employer," he said, walking around the back of her chair.

* * *

Coulson visited her again. She'd told him about Donnie the previous night, and she wasn't expecting another visit so soon. Something must have been wrong.

"You tell me," he said. "Has something happened in the last twenty-four hours?"

She let out a breath slowly. "This is… bad."

"Then you really should tell me. Unless you're pregnant, in which case… No, you'd still have to tell me."

"Sir!"

"What?"

"I… I…"

"What is it, Simmons?"

Her shoulders slumped, and she sat at the kitchen table. He perched on a chair opposite her, and she buried her face in her hands, feeling everything crashing down on her. The tears came and wouldn't stop.

"When I was at the academy… before joining the bus… I met my soulmate," she said between heaving gasps of air. "We didn't see each other… again… until today. He w-works for _HYDRA_." She peeked through her fingers, but the only change to Coulson's sympathetic expression was a slight wince. "Sir…"

"I'm so sorry, Simmons."

"Oh God, what do I do?"

"…Do you want me to pull you?"

"What?" She sat up straight again, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "No. No, they seem to trust me. My loyalty was tested, and I came out on top. I saved my soulmate's life, though I'm not sure how much of that was instinct and how much was the job." She shrugged. "You know I'd never betray SHIELD—"

"Of course not."

"But if he expects certain things of me…"

"Simmons," Coulson said sharply, "_never_ do anything you're uncomfortable with when it comes to… that."

"He's my soulmate, sir."

"Who is he?"

"Sunil Bakshi. Have you…? You've heard of him."

"I have. Works directly for Whitehall."

She sniffed, and used Coulson's offered handkerchief to wipe her hands, her eyes, and her cheeks. Just tears; she couldn't stand those people who used other people's hankies for any bodily fluid other than tears.

"What do you want me to do about him, sir?" she asked. "Whatever I have to. Just tell me."

"Simmons—"

"I may not be able to charm every man or woman in sight like Natasha Romanov, but he's my soulmate."

"Don't sell yourself for information."

"I doubt he would give it to me," she said. "But I can't turn him away forever, or he'll get suspicious. And what if he eventually demanded a bond?"

"Don't let him demand—"

"Very well, what if he _asked_ for one? It would look pretty suspicious to refuse that, too."

He sighed. "Let me think about it. But there are things I would _never_ ask you to do, not even for SHIELD's sake."

* * *

Jemma had very little time. The next day Sunil asked her on a date, and she said yes. It was an instinctive reaction, but his smile was bright enough to lift her spirits. Despite all the horrendous goings-on at HYDRA, she felt some small amount of happiness just in seeing her soulmate look at her like she was worth a fortune.

The date was lovely. Dinner, because their evening wasn't interrupted by anything else, and they didn't even discuss work. It had been so long since Jemma had a date, months before they'd met and never since.

"I thought of you every night," she said, holding his hand as they walked in the cool air.

"And last night?" he asked. She looked at the ground.

"You were shot dead," she said. "In my nightmares. Took me ages to get back to sleep."

"That explains why you look tired today," he said. "I thought it was just because of the fieldwork."

"I'm glad I was there to push you out of the way."

"Not everyone would have had the same reaction."

She leaned into his side. "We've only got each other as soulmates."

"Only?" She glanced up, and made a face when he smirked, his eyebrows raised.

"You're more than enough for me," she said.

"What do you think about, when you think of me?"

Since yesterday? Only horror.

"What happened in that hour we had together," she said. "Those kisses. The touches… in so many places." She could feel how hot her cheeks were, and it only got worse when he stopped, tilted her chin up, and kissed her. Just like he had that first time. She wound her arms around his neck, fully aware that she was kissing a HYDRA agent, assistant to Daniel Whitehall himself, and that she wasn't entirely disgusted. She knew it was because they were soulmates, so there was a natural connection there.

"I'll do this right," he whispered into her mouth.

"You're still higher up than I am—"

"That may change soon."

"Oh?"

He kissed her again, briefly. "It's not favouritism that made me suggest… a sort of promotion for you. You'll get to sit in on a meeting with Whitehall."

"But… when we met—"

"I think he was amused, but he's more impressed since the assignment with Gill. He trusts my assessment of you. And I'll be there." He stroked her cheek. "Your blush reminds me of an English rose."

"Sunil…"

"Let me court you?"

"How chivalrous."

"It's strategic, I'll have you know," he said, sounding almost affronted. She laughed.

"Of course it is," she said. "High level agents aren't romantics. It would be sacrilege to imply otherwise."

"Cheeky."

* * *

At home, Director Coulson was waiting. Jemma sat opposite him at the kitchen table, noting the lack of groceries.

"Do you have a plan?" she asked.

"How far undercover are you willing to go?" he said. She twiddled her thumbs on the tabletop, and considered the question.

"As I said, however far you need me to go… I will," she said.

"Long-term? I can trust… no, of course I can trust you. But I need to know that you're strong enough."

"It won't be hard to seduce him, sir. He knows how clumsy I am when it comes to social interactions, and he seems to like me."

"Do his kisses say that?"

"Sir!"

"You're the one with swollen lips here, Simmons."

She sighed. "I hate the thought that I'm lying to my soulmate. I know that it's imperative…"

"I believe that you're soulmates with him because you can use that to your advantage," Coulson said. "You have a big enough heart to love anyone, no matter the words on your skin. This is a big decision to make—"

"I'll do it."

"…Even if he doesn't survive?"

It hurt her heart to think about it, a reaction to the thought of harm coming to her soulmate. But he would do the same thing, she told herself.

"There are more important things in life," she said. "The world, for example." She gave the director a half-hearted smile, and he patted her hand.

"That's the spirit," he murmured. "I'm so sorry about this, Simmons."

"Does this mean I have to cut ties with the whole team on a long-term basis?"

"I'm afraid so."

That would be hard; they were her only family. Sunil would have to become her family. She blinked back imminent tears, and nodded.

"I'll do it," she said. "I don't know how long I can work at HYDRA, at least not actively creating weapons."

"Don't get involved in any more than you have to. Get whatever information you can for us, but _never get caught_."

Jemma snorted softly. "I thought I'd been doing that?"

"No more drops. Stay by his side when you can. Skye will open up a secure email account for you, so we can stay in touch through any device you can get your hands on. I was wondering whether you had any ideas?"

"About getting information to you?"

"In any secret way."

"How very World War Two, with ciphers and everything."

"Simmons," he said flatly.

"Erm… Newspaper classifieds?"

"A bit too obvious, and sometimes hard to get."

"Well, what about a blog? If I develop an online persona, something completely unrelated to work in case HYDRA finds out. Perhaps I could start baking, and post pictures and recipes?" She hummed. "Everyone seems to like food blogs nowadays."

"Have a favourite dish that you change every so often, and specific ingredients—"

"Can imply different messages. Yes!"

"Work out the code, and email it to us. Better yet, just write it down so it's untraceable. I can take it next time I'm here."

"Even though it may be the last?"

He sighed. "Yes. It probably will."

"You'll… look after the others, won't you? Tell them… something?"

"Yes, Simmons. Just keep under the radar when you can. Anyone could use you to get to us, and that would put us in an impossible position."

"How long do you suppose…?"

"As long as it takes," Coulson said. "But we'll try to keep it as short as possible."

* * *

_Three months later_

The dates with Sunil continued to be enjoyable, made more so by their randomness, it seemed. Jemma hated what HYDRA was doing, and sometimes spoke about it with Sunil, even though she stayed neutral on the subject, mainly discussing the science. He confessed to knowing little about the topic, but that he was happy to listen to her, surrounded as they were by foreign accents.

It was incredibly difficult not to fall in love with him. The only way she could stop herself was imagining the blood on his hands. There'd been rumours of a mole, and Jemma was surprised when someone else was arrested. But Agent Morse had introduced herself as the head of security at HYDRA, and that Sunil was the one who made traitors suffer. Jemma pictured his hands around her throat, or striking her, or wielding some instrument of torture.

…Very well. That was a lie. She couldn't imagine him ever hurting her, which was the worst thing. She was failing to demonise a man who worked for the enemy.

Part of her time at HYDRA was made more difficult by those sucking up to her. As Sunil's soulmate, they were clearly hoping to curry favour with her, which was ridiculous. He could never be so unprofessional. But she allowed it, because it helped her gain more information which she passed on in the occasional email.

Then there was her blog. She started with a small readership, which slowly grew. And then someone mentioned it on another site and she was bombarded with followers, and requests for her to go on Twitter. It was an excellent idea, really; if she was out on a date with Sunil, she tweeted pictures of the food and her opinion of it. And if a picture with known agents of HYDRA ended up on there briefly, before being changed after Skye had saved it, well then, no one needed to know.

Sunil knew about her hobby, of course, and laughed whenever she whipped out her phone on a date. The pictures she took of the two of them together were private, though.

But she was in trouble the day he got down on one knee in the middle of a meeting at HYDRA and asked her to marry him. She knew that the strategic thing to do would be to say yes, but that wasn't what prompted her to accept him, to many cheers. She tried not to think about that, and instead tweeted the news afterwards, knowing it would get to SHIELD swiftly.

The long email she received from Coulson was something else altogether. She read it between staring at the sparkly ring on her finger, heart pounding as she attempted to justify the whole mess to herself. Not that her boss wasn't supportive; the most uncomfortable thing was that he kept apologising for putting her in this position.

However, she was upset that she couldn't have her family and friends at the ceremony. She knew by now that her parents were following her on Twitter and the blog – thank you, Skye – and resolved to post some pictures online, as long as she could get HYDRA's permission. At least one wedding photo would be alright, she felt. They didn't frown on her online activities, because she didn't talk about work. (That they knew of. And their patterns analyst didn't take social media seriously, so she knew he wouldn't be looking too closely.)

What worried her the most when it came to the honeymoon was the bonding. There was so much conflicting lore about soulmateship. She was pretty sure that hearing each other's thoughts was a myth, but vague feelings projection was well-documented.

She'd simply have to keep away from him at work. She could justify it by saying that she didn't want him cornering her in an empty office and distracting her from science.

After coming up with a thousand and one contingency plans, Jemma decided (hoped) that it would be worth the risk.

…It was.

* * *

_Seventeen months later_

Living a lie wasn't as hard as Jemma feared it would be. Her blog was gaining momentum, and it was a good way to distract herself during the first pregnancy.

She hid it from Sunil and work for as long as she could, but eventually it was noticeable, much to her dismay and her soulmate's apparent delight. It was her turn to apologise to Director Coulson in a long, emotional email. It had honestly been an accident, and she was forced to take time off work. It was one thing to be kicked out of the labs in case chemical fumes did something to the foetus; it was quite another to be kicked out of admin during the third trimester. Sunil just smiled whenever she shouted at him, waited for her to run out of steam, and then kissed her.

Very romantic, and very hard for her to take when she was supposed to be spying for SHIELD. It was made slightly easier when the head of security – "Please, call me Bobbi away from the office" – brought around things for Jemma to work on before she went stir-crazy. She kept it from Sunil, and Bobbi winked and said it was their secret. If the woman hadn't been HYDRA, Jemma would have quite liked her.

The first child was born without complication. Ann Frances Bakshi took after her mother and, according to Sunil, his mother as well.

"I've never met her," Jemma said.

"She keeps to herself."

Her blog had turned half into a pregnancy diary, and people had actually charted her changing tastes by her food posts. That should have been a warning sign.

It was adorable, the way Sunil took to fatherhood. He scrubbed himself thoroughly after work, because Jemma refused to let him touch Ann if there was even a hint of someone else's blood on his hands.

The one thing stopping her from falling in love with him. Because _everything else_ he did was so damn wonderful that she couldn't believe her luck. He waited out mood swings, helped with the cleaning, took at least half of the responsibility in pretty much everything, and still insisted on making lo… on sleeping with her. Even when she felt horribly out of shape after the pregnancy, he didn't just reassure her or offer half-hearted advice. He actually went out of his way to help her get back into shape.

All for nought when she went and fell pregnant again. She ignored Skye's remarks in _that_ email. And the fact that everyone else seemed to know before her, due to comparisons made to her earlier blog entries from when she'd been pregnant with Ann.

That patterns analyst must have started working – or been replaced – because one afternoon Sunil came home an hour early. Instead of going straight to Ann after washing his hands, he sat on the coffee table in front of Jemma and leaned forward.

"What have you been doing, Jemma?" he asked softly. She blinked.

"The same that I do every day," she said.

"Which is?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Sunil, you know perfectly _well_ what I do every day."

"And the extra-curricular work?"

"…Which?"

"Take your pick," he snapped. "The files I know you look over for Morse. The social media. The fact that a pattern has shown up suggesting that you've been giving information to _SHIELD_."

…Bother.

"What?" she said, laughing. "Don't be daft."

"Explain this," he said, pulling out a folded piece of paper and presenting it to her. She scanned it, and her stomach dropped. The codes. They were so close to the codes that it was frightening, and she needed to alert the others _now_. The time suggested that it had only been printed thirty-odd minutes ago, probably handed straight to Sunil before he left. Perhaps the reason he left early?

"It's… it's just a coincidence," she said, handing it back. "I'm sorry. It must have been subconsciously done. But… no one would ever _think_ to look… I mean, why would someone…? You must believe me, Sunil."

"Even though the _evidence_ says otherwise?"

"It's nonsense! You _know_ I would never betray you."

"Or HYDRA?"

"We both work for HYDRA."

"I get the feeling that you don't," he said quietly, and he stood up. Jemma shrank back in the cushions, her hands cupping her stomach. She didn't raise her head as Sunil walked away. He swore vehemently, but Ann was asleep.

"It's a coincidence," Jemma insisted. "You know I find patterns in my own mind. It's entirely possible that I began to associate certain dishes with…" She breathed out gradually. "Who would ever think to even look at my blog for… I don't know, clues?"

"A SHIELD agent might."

"Sunil—"

"I didn't need this kind of attention," he said, half to himself. "Now they're going to watch closely. _Damn it_."

"I'm—"

"Don't say you're sorry again, Jemma, don't you _dare_ say it!" She closed her mouth quickly. "This… this is partly my fault."

"What is? You didn't encourage me to—"

"I asked you to marry me."

She swallowed. "Do you regret it?"

"Yes."

"Oh." It shouldn't have hurt as much as it did – she really should have been more worried about losing her cover – but he was her _soulmate_.

"I was… using you, in a way," he said. "And trying to protect myself _and_ my mission by keeping you pregnant and at home, away from the labs. Even then, you _still_ got information from HYDRA, still _worked_ for them. Or I thought you did."

"Sunil? You're not making any sense."

"I would be if you knew the whole truth," he said.

"Don't tell me _you're_ a mole," she said, chuckling lightly. Sunil's eyes narrowed as he looked over his shoulder at her.

"Why did you emphasise 'you're'?" he asked. "It sounded as though there should have been an 'as well' on the end of that sentence. Implying more than one mole within HYDRA. Who else, Jemma? You? Morse?"

"What? No! Neither of us. Well, as far as I'm aware." Her heart raced. She'd gotten away with this for over a year and a half, something she never thought she'd be capable of, once upon a time.

"You're saying that you definitely work for HYDRA?"

"Of course."

"Not just for 'science', but for that organisation."

'That organisation'. Not 'our organisation' or 'my organisation'. Interesting.

"What did you mean before, when you referred to your mission?" she said. "And that you married me to use me?"

"I'm… I'm sorry. That came out badly. You know I… care about you."

"Feeling the love there, Sunil."

"This isn't funny, Jemma! My mission has been _compromised_ by you. I know that the marriage wasn't necessarily a good idea, but it was one way to keep you close, and getting you pregnant—"

"Did you tamper with the contraceptives?" He half-grimaced. "I don't believe this!"

"You're too talented. You were furthering HYDRA's cause, although now I'm thinking you were a spy all along."

She hesitated. "Wait a moment. Furthering HYDRA's cause. Isn't that something you want?"

"What I _want_…" He sighed, and then sat beside her. Jemma inched away, nervous, and he dropped his hands to his lap, looking into the distance. "I do what I have to, but I don't like it. Always the shades of grey."

"Who do you work for?"

"My mother."

"Your _mother_?"

"And my father and their colleagues, when they were alive."

"Who _is_ your mother?"

"Who do _you_ work for, Jemma?" He met her eyes. "No more lies between us."

"…SHIELD," she admitted. "Director Coulson sent me in. I had no idea you would be there. He… encouraged me towards you."

"Ah." He nodded. "We're victims of the same machinations."

"Who does your mother work for?"

"No one, really."

"Sunil!"

"She's… on the World Security Council. The only living member at the moment. My father was on the council as well. Not the warmest childhood, but I can't complain. I've been gathering intel for the WSC for years. That's why I was underground the day we met. I'm good at locating people and information; my codename with the WSC… only my mother now, is Bloodhound. HYDRA was happy enough to snap me up when I didn't show a preference either way. They figured they'd convinced me, and it was better than being brainwashed. I've had training on how to counteract it."

"I was never…?"

"No, from what I can tell. You've never been brainwashed, and certainly not by HYDRA. I'd know."

"Good." She stared at her hands, entwined and resting on her baby bump. "So… how has this compromised your mission?"

"Part of the reason HYDRA accepted you is that soulmates wouldn't have conflicting interests," he explained. "They believed me to be on their side, so they believed that of you, particularly after you proved your loyalty. Now that that's being called into question, they're going to look at me, wonder whether I've been naughty as well."

"Oh."

"Yes."

"…I'm sorry, Sunil. I had no idea."

"You weren't supposed to know. I've only told you because there doesn't seem point in keeping it secret any longer." He massaged the bridge of his nose, and Jemma tentatively covered his free hand. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, but didn't say anything else.

"What do we do now?" she asked. "I should let Coulson know…"

"Of course," he said. "Then we should pack. They don't have our real address, and we're not tracked, nor are we bugged."

"But…" Jemma paled. "Bobbi… Agent Morse, she visits."

"How did she get our address?"

"I don't know! The only people who know where we live are us and Director Coulson. And, presumably, your mother."

"Yes, but she'd never tell anyone," he said. "Not without telling me. Is it… is it possible that Agent Morse works for SHIELD?"

Jemma was already firing up her tablet. "I'll ask."

"I'll begin packing the essentials. We'll need somewhere safer to go."

"I can't take you to the Playground. That would be against protocol, and I doubt it's safe for Ann."

"We need to get the information to someone who can help," he said, poking his head around the door to the hallway. "Is there anyone we can trust? Anyone _Coulson_ would trust?"

"You mean aside from Captain America?" she asked with a small grin, typing an email to her boss. She stopped, and looked up at Sunil, who raised an eyebrow.

* * *

"Sir?"

"Yeah, JARVIS?" Tony asked, throwing a piece of popcorn at Clint, who caught it in his mouth deftly.

"Someone is outside the gates, waving at the camera."

"Show us, J."

The digital – no grainy analogue for a Stark – image showed a woman in the early stages of pregnancy holding a large sheet of paper. It said 'Coulson lives'.

"The hell?" Clint said, nearly falling off the back of the sofa.

"Facial recognition scans give her identification both as Dr. Jemma Simmons, formerly of SHIELD, and Dr. Jemma Bakshi, nee Simmons, now of HYDRA."

"HYDRA?" Steve said, his face taking on the hard look associated solely with discussing the Nazi science division.

"She is married to Sunil Bakshi, who works directly for Daniel Whitehall at HYDRA."

"What does she want?" Tony asked.

The young woman listened to the speaker by the door, and then replied, glancing at the camera every couple of seconds.

"She says that she and her husband are on the run from HYDRA, and she has information about Director Phil Coulson of SHIELD."

"We're armed," Natasha said. "Bruce, are you up for this?"

"I've had more than enough popcorn to be ready for anything," he said.

"Thor?"

"Never readier," he replied.

They all went down to the gates to meet Dr. Bakshi. Her eyes were big and scared, and she was holding onto the gate for dear life.

"I work for Director Coulson," she whispered. "I was undercover for nearly two years. Now that's been blown, so my husband and I are on the run. I can't take him to SHIELD base, not yet."

"Who does he work for?" Steve asked.

"Neither HYDRA nor SHIELD. But he wants to protect us. He's waiting in the car with the baby. Please, could we stay here? We have information I'm sure you could use."

"Sir," JARVIS said through the speaker at the gate, "I believe that she may be telling the truth about her loyalties."

Tony scrolled through the display on his phone, and the others looked over his shoulders.

"I know this blog," Bruce said. "You use organic food."

"I have ethical standards, you know!" She sounded indignant. Although Coulson was the one who'd truly converted her.

"Wait, this is the one that's popped up as using code for HYDRA activity," Tony said, holding up a finger. He studied the young woman. "Were you passing information on to SHIELD?"

"On Coulson's orders, yes."

"And he's really alive?" Clint said, his arms folded defensively.

"Yes, he is. I've handled his medical records personally. I'd be happy… well, not happy, because it was horrible, but I'd be willing to tell you all that I know. But _please_, may we have shelter? Just until I can get the director's permission to bring Sunil and Ann to the Playground?"

Tony sighed. "Come in. But know that you're surrounded by super humans."

"How could I possibly forget?" she muttered.

* * *

Sunil had parked the car downstairs while Jemma waited with the Avengers. When he emerged from the lift, he handed Ann over to her immediately, and turned to Agent Romanov.

"I think I should start by thanking you," he said.

"Uh, my house?" Stark said.

"For saving my mother's life," Sunil continued, ignoring Stark, which seemed to be the sensible solution.

"Your mother?" Romanov said.

"Councilwoman Hawley, from the WSC? My father was Councilman Singh, but I grew up in England because he was married. She was all the family I had left until Jemma, so… thank you."

Romanov frowned, but she nodded. "You're welcome."

"So you work for the World Security Council?" Captain Rogers said.

"The great irony is that the WSC doesn't like secrecy, not from organisations such as SHIELD," Sunil said. "I found what I was asked to find, reported it, and after SHIELD fell I let myself be approached by HYDRA. I worked for them, by all appearances, but my loyalty is with my mother. And the rest of my family now." He squeezed Jemma's shoulder, and she half-smiled at him. In the past few hours, the world as she knew it had been turned on its head. But she couldn't complain about her new situation. No. Not at all.

"Speaking of family, what do you know about Coulson?" Agent Barton asked her.

"…Perhaps we ought to sit down?" she suggested.

* * *

_A week later_

"You did good, Bobbi," Phil said, patting her on the shoulder after she stumbled out of the burning building. "You kept her safe for as long as you could, and the information you got to her was incredible valuable."

"Sorry," she said, and she coughed into his shoulder. "Couldn't keep her away. From him."

"Well, it turns out he wasn't on HYDRA's side after all," he said, leading Bobbi away from the labs. They'd probably explode soon.

"Everyone okay?"

"The rest of the gang's over here," he said.

"Bobbi?" Hunter said. "What the hell—?"

"Let's leave that for later," Phil said, handing Bobbi over to Trip, who gave her water and a shock blanket. It was good to be on the side of the law again, especially when it meant rapid-response ambulances.

"Your hair—"

"Shut up, Hunter!" Bobbi snapped.

"DC, we've got incoming!" Skye called.

"Who?"

"The, uh… the Avengers?"

He blinked about two seconds before Iron Man landed behind him.

"We need to talk, Phil."

"What happened to 'Agent'?" he asked, trying to regain his equilibrium.

"Jemma told us you're the director now. Or is it Director Agent Coulson?"

"Simmons is with you?" Phil said.

"All three of them are staying with us."

"Thank God she's safe."

"Yeah, and that you're alive. When were you gonna tell us? Oh, fine. Jemma says 'hello', and to 'stop gabbing like a pair of old crones', and… what was that? 'Get on with it', she said. So." He waved. "See you afterwards. Don't run off when the clock strikes twelve, Cinderella."

"How is this my life?" Phil said as Iron Man flew away. "Next time I see Nicholas Fury, remind me to punch him in the face."

* * *

**Indeed.**

**Ship requested by OneMoreDay. And Lavanyalabelle wanted Twitter to be used for coded messages. The idea of trapping Simmons underground at the start was inspired by the back-story for one of the characters in selmak's 'Jemma Simmons and her Boy Toys'. I thought it might be an interesting idea, that someone thinks they're going to make it out of a dangerous situation because they haven't met their soulmate yet, only they meet their soulmate in that situation and lose hope because of it. (And then the snogging starts, with a months-long break for story-telling purposes.)**

**Please review!**


	58. A Girl's Best Friend (Emma FrostxJemma)

"A Girl's Best Friend"

"The French are glad to die for love," twelve-year-old Jemma Simmons sang to the mirror, her hairbrush a microphone. "They delight in fighting duels." She struck a pose, her Marilyn Monroe wig teetering precariously on her high ponytail. "But I prefer a man who lives, and gives expensive jewels."

"Jemma, back to your homework!" her mother called. Jemma sighed, and returned to her desk. She loved science, truly she did, but it was nice to take a break every so often. Her particular area of study for her master's thesis was the effect of different body chemistries on the appearance of soulmarks. Most people's words ranged through the various shades of grey, depending on skin tone. The colour would intensify based on the strength of the bond.

But Jemma was one of those few – and yes, there were some – whose mark had a habit of changing appearance. With irregularity, it would alter from ordinary dark grey to a glittery dark grey, almost like gems. That was why her parents named her Jemma; it had been doing that since she was born, leading to her intense interest in soulmate lore. Combining that with science was like combining… cheese with cake. One savoury, one sweet; but together? Absolutely marvellous.

She pondered over a strange letter she had received from a man named Charles Xavier, apparently a professor in America. It was about one of her planned thesis points, that it was the body chemistry of the soulmate which caused the effect. One of the weaker points, and she had debated over whether or not to include it at all, if it served no real purpose other than to question the rest of her work. Somehow, Professor Xavier had heard about it, and was asking to arrange a telephone conference with her.

Well, it was nearly the time when it would be best to call him, according to the hours he had listed in the letter, along with a phone number. It was long distance, which made her hesitate. Still, she couldn't deny her curiosity.

"A kiss on the hand may be quite continental," she sang softly, dialling the number. "But diamonds are a—"

"Miss Simmons?"

"Oh my gosh!" She jumped in her seat. "How did you do that?"

There was a British-sounding chuckle on the other end, and she stared at the letter. Come to think of it, he wrote in a very English style.

"It's a talent of mine," he said. "And I have been expecting your call."

"How terribly clever."

"Not as clever as you are, my dear, or so I've heard. Could you tell me your phone number?" She recited it. "Very good. I will call you back."

"Oh! Are you…?"

"Positive."

"Very… very well…"

There was a click. Jemma blinked, and place the receiver back on the cradle. Seconds later, the phone rang, and she answered it.

"Professor Xavier?"

"Very good, Miss Simmons."

She laughed nervously. "It would have been embarrassing if it wasn't you." He laughed again. "Sir… are you British?"

"Born American, but my parents were British and I studied at Oxford, so I never lost the accent."

"Oh, really? I would _love_ to study at Oxford!" Then she paused. "I'm so sorry, I'm just nervous, I don't use the telephone all that much."

"It's fine. I rarely use the phone, either. May I continue?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"I was born and raised in Westchester County, New York, went to England to study, and then returned to America to establish a school for people with particular… talents. You may be interested in them."

"Really? Do they have changing soulmarks?"

"Some of them, yes. And some have soulmates with changing marks."

"Oh my. Is there a great concentration of them in the United States?"

"Greater now that they attend my school, although they come from many places. Those who have soulmates with altering marks all have a gene in common."

"Do you… do you suppose my soulmate has that gene, as well?"

"There is little doubt in my mind."

"Gosh." Jemma looked at her notes. This could change the face of her thesis. A great deal of work, but she was no stranger to that. She thrived on it.

"I would be willing to fund your journey here, if you wished to visit the school?"

"Oh… um…"

"And your parents, of course," the professor added.

"I don't think they could take the time off work."

"I will have a trusted friend meet you, and one of your parents – your mother, perhaps? – could at least bring you here and see the place for herself."

"I…"

"You would have to ask them first, I know. But you have my phone number."

Jemma glanced out the window at the dark sky. "What sort of school is it?"

"It's for very special people. Do you have an email account?"

"Yes."

"I could send you some of my work," he said. "I have every confidence that you would understand the science behind it."

"So you studied science, then?" she asked.

"Yes. Would you like my notes?"

"Yes, please." She gave him her email address, heard him murmuring it as he scribbled it down. She shifted in her seat as she felt her soulmark morphing again.

"I will send it to you as soon as we finish talking," he said.

"Professor Xavier?"

"Yes, Miss Simmons?"

"Does your soulmark change as well?"

"It does."

"Have you met your soulmate?"

"…Yes. I met him a very long time ago, long before you were born. It is not always the case that you will agree on everything; soulmates were created to complement each other. But sometimes Fate seems to overestimate the influence we may have on our soulmate, and underestimate the power of stubbornness."

"You sound sad. Don't you love your soulmate?"

"We are not discussing me, Miss Simmons. We are discussing your thesis."

"Right," she said, nodding shortly. "I would _love_ to visit you, but I must ask my parents first."

"I will be available for another two hours."

"Oh! Then I'll go right away."

"You do that, Miss Simmons."

After a quick conversation, her parents said yes. Her passport was in order, so her mother agreed to accompany her. Jemma told Professor Xavier, and he arrange flight times with them. As promised, he also funded it, even though Jemma's parents protested. But he insisted.

A week later, they were on their way to New York.

* * *

Mrs. Simmons at least tried not to stare as they walked through the grounds to the front door. The girl Jemma, however, was open-mouthed and wide-eyed as she looked at everything, barely watching where she was going. Ororo's lips turned up at the corners as Miss Simmons jumped back from an ice sculpture forming right beside her. She gasped, but instead of running away from it like most people would, she ran right up to it and ran a finger along one spike.

"How extraordinary!" she exclaimed. She turned to Bobby and stared at his hands. "You did that. How?"

"It's a gift," he said, and he added embellishments. He formed a diamond-shaped ice cube and placed it in her hands. She turned it over and over, and Ororo noticed the indulgent smile on Mrs. Simmons's face.

"Scientific curiosity," Mrs. Simmons said.

"Professor X told us that she's a genius?"

"She is. Goodness knows where she gets it from. What is your power?"

"I'll give you a hint: my nickname is Storm."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was magic," Jemma said. She handed the crystal back to Bobby. "It's beautiful, but it will melt if I keep it."

"You sure?"

"Yes. But thank you for the offer."

She returned to her mother's side. Ororo led them into the school, and to Xavier's office.

"A school for 'gifted youngsters'?" Mrs. Simmons asked, raising an eyebrow. "What a fitting title."

"I think it's wonderful," Jemma said, still wide-eyed. "Can I… may I meet the professor now? Please?"

Ororo smiled, and knocked on the door.

* * *

"Come in, Ororo!"

"There you are," their guide said, opening the door. Jemma shook her hand.

"Thank you for the tour, Miss Munroe," she said. "It was wonderful meeting you."

"Ororo can stay," the man behind the desk said. He gestured them forward. "Welcome to my academy, Miss Simmons."

Jemma's breath caught when she finally saw the professor she had wanted so very much to meet. The door closed with a click, but she barely noticed it. She drifted forward and held out her hand. Professor Xavier shook it, but he didn't stand up.

"You'll forgive me, I'm sure," he said. "Spinal injury." He tapped the side of his seat, which she noticed was a wheelchair.

"Of course," she said, stunned.

"Please, take a seat, Miss Simmons. Mrs. Simmons."

"Thank you," Jemma's mother said. They both sat down. "My daughter has spoken of little else since you extended your kind invitation. She has never been outside of Europe before."

"I can conduct most of my research from home," Jemma said.

"We will do everything we can to accommodate you while you're here, Miss Simmons," Professor Xavier said.

"How long do you wish me to stay?" she asked.

"As long as you like. I am sure you will find inspiration for your thesis."

"A great deal of inspiration."

"No examining blood samples while you're here," her mother said. Jemma sighed.

"I will be very respectful," she said. The professor chuckled warmly, just as he had over the phone.

"I must introduce you to Dr. Jean Grey," he said.

Jemma studied him for a few seconds, and then tentatively asked, "What is _your_… mutation, Professor Xavier? It wouldn't happen to be reading minds, would it? You always know that it's me when I call, and you knew it was Miss Munroe at the door."

"I thought you might work that one out," he said, smiling as he leaned forward. "I anticipate some enthralling discussions between us. Either Ororo or Jean will be present at those times."

"Thank you," Jemma's mother said. "My husband and I were going to ask about…"

"I am not a father, but I understand enough," he said. "Your daughter is safe here, and she won't be alone. She will be sharing a room with Katherine Pryde, one of our students. If anything happens, she can get Jemma to safety." He placed two fingers against the side of his head. "Kitty, you can come in now."

Jemma stared as a young woman walked through the wall. She heard her mother gasp.

"Hey, roomie!" Kitty said. "Jemma, right?" Jemma nodded. "Wanna see our room?"

"Oh… yes, please. Unless Professor Xavier…?"

He smiled, and waved them off. "I will speak to you later, Miss Simmons."

* * *

_Fifteen years later_

"The hell?" Skye whirled around as ice crept up the wall behind her. "Guys, are you _seeing_ this?"

"Concentrate on the battle, Quake," Coulson said.

"No, seriously, there is _ice_ on the _wall_. Is Loki here?"

"He better not be."

"Wait a minute!" Simmons said. Skye ducked behind a car and looked around. There was a guy nearby, ice over his hands. He was clearly responsible. Yeah, he'd caught some of the moving fires, but how did she know he wasn't strengthening them or something?

"Guys, I've got point on the guy doing it," she said. "Seems pointless to use an ICER on him."

"Don't!" Simmons shouted, rounding the corner. Skye winced at the volume. She tensed when she saw Simmons approaching the stranger.

"What the hell are you _doing_? Are you _insane_?"

"Bobby!"

He turned, the ice falling from his hands. Through the scope, Skye could see their smiles as Simmons launched herself into his arms. He swung her around, laughing. Skye blinked.

"Ex-boyfriend?" she asked.

"_No_," Simmons said. "I'll introduce you after the battle."

"Jemma, please tell me you didn't run out here _unarmed_?" he said.

"Uh…"

"Go back to whatever you were doing. We'll talk later, yeah?"

She nodded, and ran off, continuing to talk over the comms.

"I can vouch for Iceman," she said. "I can also vouch for Shadowcat, she walks through walls, Cyclops, the one with the sunglasses, Storm, who creates—"

"We get it," Skye said.

"Simmons, you're explaining this when it's over," Coulson said.

"Yes, sir," she replied.

* * *

Jemma was beaming as she stayed in control centre – aka Skye's van – and monitored the situation while the DWARFs did reconnaissance. She found the source of the fireballs, one of Charles's past students, John Allerdyce. She frowned, and relayed the co-ordinates to the rest of the team while Fitz fiddled with the ICER.

"Do you think this'll stop him?" he asked.

"It stopped Mike Peterson," she said.

"And it stabilised his powers."

"Pyro's powers are already stable. It's his mind which is questionable. If anyone gets close to him, make sure there are no flames nearby. He has a pocket lighter. He can create infernos from a spark, so ICERs only. Oh, _where's_ Professor X when you need him?"

"Professor Who?" Fitz said.

"I'll explain later," she said.

"Yeah, I heard you say that to Coulson."

"Mmm." Her soulmark was tingling more than usual. She'd grown so used to its changes that she barely noticed them anymore, but it was stronger today. She scratched her back absently.

There was a cry nearby, and Jemma leapt out of the van. If it wasn't one of her team, it might have been one of her friends. Panicked, she ran towards it, just in case, and noticed a woman clinging to the side of the fire escape. Something shook it, and she fell the rest of the way. Jemma ran to her side. Just because she didn't recognise the woman didn't mean that she wasn't an ally.

"Oh my gosh, are you hurt? Let me check," she said, pushing the woman's hair out of the way and probing the less personal parts of her body. The woman made a shocked noise, and Jemma stopped. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, sweetheart, I'm just surprised it's you."

Those… those were her soulmate words. This woman was a mutant.

Of course, Jemma had long suspected it. Her research had been fairly conclusive. She met the woman's eyes, and was taken aback by their blueness, her lovely face framed by long, wavy blonde hair. Jemma's heart thudded faster, and she sat back on her heels.

"Well, aren't I lucky?" she remarked.

"That I'm your soulmate?" She nodded, and the woman laughed huskily. "You shouldn't be."

"I know that you're a mutant—"

"I know who you are, Jemma Simmons." She stood, and Jemma followed, still slightly spellbound and possibly drooling. She'd never denied her bisexuality, and her soulmate was absolutely stunning.

"I haven't had the pleasure," she said, holding out her hand. The woman took it, her grip strong. "What's your power? My soulmark glitters like a jewel when…"

Swiftly, the woman turned to crystal. Her shake was now solid, and Jemma knew it would be impossible to break her hold if the woman really held her down. The thought was shiver-inducing, in a good way. The woman smirked.

"I can also read minds," she said. Jemma tried desperately to shake out the lascivious thoughts which had naturally formed, but her attempts just made it worse. "I've stopped now."

"Oh, thanks goodness," Jemma muttered, her cheeks aflame. "If you don't think I'm a dreadful pervert, could you tell me your name?"

"You _are_ a 'dreadful pervert', but I'm not saying that's a bad thing." She traced a rock-hard finger down Jemma's cheek. "My name is Emma Frost. Have you heard of me?"

"I don't have as much contact with the others as I used to," she said. "Perhaps your codename?"

"Jemma, May's taken out the perpetrators," Fitz said. Jemma rolled her eyes.

"Not the time, Fitz!" she hissed.

"I don't have a codename," Emma said.

"It sounds like the battle's over. Will you come and meet my team?"

"I have to meet with mine. I'll find you, Jemma. You can be sure of that."

"Could I kiss you?" she blurted out. "While you're… I mean, both? Because—"

"You're curious. I understand."

It was bizarre, being kissed by someone made of crystal, or some kind of rock. She was gorgeous in either form, and Jemma tried to convey her appreciation, running her fingers through strange strands of crystal hair—

'_Diamond_,' Emma projected into her brain. '_I'm made of diamond, baby._'

'_It's a girl's best friend_,' Jemma thought, dazed. She felt Emma's amusement, and wondered how much more intense it would be when they bonded.

Slowly, the diamond (diamond!) melted away, and she was kissing a flesh-and-blood being. It was equally thrilling, and she hoped that no one was watching because she was becoming a little wanton. Eventually, Emma pushed her back.

"I have to go, sweetheart," she said. "But I won't lose you. We'll meet again someday."

"I hope so," Jemma said. Emma ran off, and she retreated to the van.

Then she remembered that she had old friends to meet, and ran back to where she had last seen Bobby. The others were gathered there, including the professor.

"Hello!" she called, and she sprinted over to them. Kitty caught her first, and they squealed as they hugged. Jemma saved Charles for last, and kissed him on the cheek.

"You haven't aged at all, Charles," she scolded. "None of you have, I swear."

"You were only twelve when we met," he said. "Of course you were going to grow, _doctor_."

"I have you to thank for that," she said quietly. Kitty leaned into her side pointedly, and Jemma slung an arm around her waist. "And we were right about my soulmate. I just met her, back there. I was expecting her to be with you."

"There is another group of mutants here," Charles said.

"The she must be with them."

"That would be… Magneto's group," Bobby said. Jemma stared at him.

"Magneto?" she said. "But he's… oh my God."

"Poor Jemma," Kitty said. "Who'd Fate saddle you with?"

"Emma Frost."

"I've known her a long time," Charles said.

"How long?"

"Over fifty years."

"Oh. Uh… she doesn't look it?"

"Simmons." She peeked over her shoulder at her team. Coulson raised his eyebrows. "Are you going to introduce us?"

* * *

"So lemme get this straight," Hunter said. "You were studying your masters when you were _twelve_?"

"Yes," Jemma said.

"Then you stayed at this school for awhile—"

"Seven months. It was the first time I'd had friends."

"We were besties," Kitty said.

"You and Charles are the only ones who've kept in touch with me. It's very remiss of the rest of you." The other mutants at least had the grace to look ashamed.

"And you chose not to mention this… why?" Hunter asked. Jemma shrugged.

"They've been busy," she said. "This isn't their fight. And… it's nice to have that bit of my life to myself."

"And your soulmate is a mutant on the side of the bad guys?"

"Not my fault, Hunter."

"Other than that, her experiences with mutants have been awesome," Kitty said. "Hey, Jemma, remember when we used to sneak down to the kitchen for midnight snacks?" Jemma coughed pointedly, and Kitty's eyes widened. "I mean, when we used to _talk_ about doing it, even though we never actually _did_ it. Because that would be bad."

"I'm not so concerned about your teeth as I am that your mother might have found out," Charles said.

"You never did tell me what she threatened you with while Kitty was showing me around upstairs," Jemma said, attempting to hide a smile behind her teacup. Not that she could hide anything from her former mentor.

"It gave me nightmares."

"Oh dear."

"She was being protective of you, that's all."

"You're free to continue to keep in touch with Simmons," Coulson said.

"Ha!" Rogue said. "Try stopping us. Ah promise, Jemma, we'll try ta do better."

"I should hope so," Jemma said. "Now, is someone going to tell me more about my soulmate, or should I wait for her to find me? I'd rather be armed with information first."

"I'd rather you be armed, period," Charles said. "She can turn her whole body into diamond. I suppose I should have known that one time you showed me your soulmark."

"It wasn't your responsibility, Charles. I can empathise with you, now, considering…"

'_You always were a genius_,' he thought to her.

'_And you were always more transparent than you thought_,' she replied, arching an eyebrow. He chuckled over the psychic link. '_Who broke away first?_'

'_Erik._'

'_I'm sorry._'

'_If you can find a solution to this, please let me know._'

'_You'll be the first._'

"How's Logan?" she asked aloud.

"He's Logan," Scott said. He'd been scanning the room, only his right side facing them.

"In other words he's gone off again, but don't be surprised if he shows up to help you from time to time after Charles tells him that we saw you," Jean said.

"Please give him my phone number. Charles has it."

"Hey, can we get that?" Kitty said. "It sucks not being able to contact you properly anymore."

"Blame HYDRA. We blame them for everything."

* * *

It was lovely being able to keep up with her friends on a more regular basis. Jemma nearly always had her phone on now, and with her at all times. It was only when she was deeply involved in science that she preferred not to be disturbed unless it was a legitimate emergency. The first time Rogue made the mistake of asking for advice when it wasn't anywhere near a matter of life-or-death… well, no one ever made that mistake again.

And Wolverine did show up to help a few times, as well as the others if they were nearby. Other mutants on Charles's side were put in touch with Jemma, and she met them all eventually. They helped each other, and some of her team-mates were getting to know her x-gene friends.

But she didn't see Emma again until she was shopping one evening – an emergency grocery run – and a mugger tried to pick on Jemma. She took him down skilfully, of course, and couldn't wait to tell May later on. But then Emma melted out of the shadows. Not like Kitty, but she'd certainly been well-hidden, considering the white clothes she was wearing.

"Hello," Jemma said ineloquently.

"Hi, sweetheart," Emma said, and she drew Jemma into the darkness. "You've been more difficult to find than I thought you would. You don't get out much, do you?"

"Science is something which is generally conducted indoors. At least the kind of science I do. And I rarely go out in the field."

"I've noticed. I'm disappointed."

Jemma's heart sank. "In me?"

"Yes. I saw him following you, and I was going to punch his jaw out the other side of his head for even thinking about touching you, but you got there first."

"I haven't the strength to punch a man's jaw through his skull."

"No, but you put him down before I could play the knight in shining armour. Or dame in shining clothes, as the case may be."

Jemma laughed softly. "Indeed."

Then Emma kissed her, and Jemma's laughter died off. She parted her lips when prompted, and ended up with her back against the wall and one leg curled around Emma's. Diamond-hard arms held her in place.

"Where's your soulmark?" Emma whispered.

"My back. Yours?"

"My stomach. I'd _love_ to spoon you from behind, sweetheart."

"Do you really think we could bond?"

Emma smirked, and rubbed their noses together. "Not everyone is as stupid as Magneto and Professor X."

"You see it, too?"

"They're not subtle, are they?"

"They really aren't." She stroked her hands through half-keratin, half-crystalline hair. It turned completely diamond, and Emma plucked one out and handed it to Jemma.

"You never know when you might need one, baby," she said. "Wanna come meet my team?"

"I… I really shouldn't. Skye is waiting for me. We just needed some supplies, and I'm supposed to—"

"Take them back to her. I'll keep her mind focussed on something else until you return to my side, and then I'll take you to meet my crowd."

"All of them?"

"Right up to Erik."

"Very well. But… please don't hurt Skye."

"It wouldn't be in my interests to hurt your friend, would it?"

* * *

Emma drove them out of town and to a forest. Then it was a short trek to a sophisticated-looking campsite, where some people were milling about. Pyro was there; he'd been paroled, and Jemma wasn't sure how to feel about being in his presence. Magneto was there in his cape and helmet, and Emma introduced them first.

"I found your work fascinating," he said, kissing Jemma's hand.

"Oh! Uh, thank you. I can assure you that I found the research mind-blowing. I'd never been so excited about science before, and I get terribly excited about science."

"Isn't she cute?" Emma said, stroking Jemma's hair. She blushed, ducking her head.

"Such a pity that Charles kept you to himself," Magneto said.

"I wasn't there all that long," Jemma said.

"What brought you back to America, my dear?"

How funny. That was what Charles sometimes called her. "My work. My studies. Thanks to Professor Xavier, I already had contacts here."

"We shall have to steal you away," he said. "I'm sure Emma would love to have you by her side."

"I'd love to have her anywhere," Emma said, eyeing Jemma, whose jaw dropped. "Look at her, blushing like a virgin."

"I'm not a—! Well, I mean…"

"Would you like to meet the other members of the Brotherhood of Mutants?" he asked.

"Yes, please," Jemma said, desperate to move on, and also interested in meeting more people with the x-gene. She nearly yelped when Fitz walked up to her. "What—?"

"Raven," Magneto said warningly.

'Fitz' melted away into a blue-skinned, red-haired (and naked) woman. She held out a hand, and Jemma shook it tentatively.

"I'm Mystique."

"Lovely to meet you."

"Is it?"

"You gave me quite a shock."

She smiled saucily. "Sorry about that. I couldn't resist."

"So you're a shape-shifter?"

"Yes. This is my natural form."

"It's very pretty."

Mystique raised an eyebrow, but she didn't reply to that. Worried that she'd offended her, Jemma let herself be led to meet the next man. Of whom there were several clones. They each disappeared back into him.

"This is Multiple Man," Emma said.

"You can call me James," he said, shaking Jemma's hand.

"You… multiply yourself," she said.

"Yep, and before you ask, only my original body – this one – has a soulmark."

Things connected quickly in her mind, and then her hand connected with his face. The echo of the slap died out, and Jemma scowled at him fiercely.

"Your soulmate was _institutionalised_ because of you!" she said. "The poor woman's soulmark kept appearing all over her body, then disappearing again, leaving only the one behind. Last I heard she was trying to get her life back on track, but she committed herself for a time because she thought she was going _insane_!"

"You know who my soulmate is?" he asked, blinking. He didn't seem bothered by the slap at all.

"I… apologise for hitting you, but I stand by it," she said, lifting her chin. "It took me hours to reassure her that it was just science, that I could see the marks appearing as well."

"Who is she? Where?"

"You… haven't met her yet?"

He shrugged. "Been kinda busy."

"Yes," Jemma said, her eyes narrowing as she looked around. "I've heard what you've been doing. The question is, if I contact her for you, what can you offer her? As a person? She's a good woman, from what I remember of her, and the last thing she needs is more soulmate-related stress in her life."

"But she's my soulmate," he said, staring at her earnestly. "Anything. If she… doesn't hate mutants?"

Jemma rolled her eyes. "She was relieved when I told her what the cause most likely was, not scared."

"And imagine what having so many men attending to her would be like," Emma whispered into her ear. "The more the merrier, am I right? Especially if she likes the thought of being held down… like you." Her hands on Jemma's waist turned to diamond, keeping her in place. Jemma's breath hitched.

"A-anyway, I'll try to find her contact details," she said, trying not to get distracted by the way Emma's thumbs were rubbing circles on the skin just beneath her shirt. "But I'm not putting you in touch with her until I have good reason to believe that you won't screw up her life."

"Fair," he said, nodding.

"What does your soulmark look like?" Mystique asked. Jemma hesitated, then faced away from them and raised the back of her shirt.

"It may be hard to see in this light, but it turns gem-like… I presume when Emma becomes diamond. It's been like that all my life, and I'd grown accustomed to it, but now… I suppose being in close proximity makes the tickle stronger."

"It's beautiful," Emma said, tracing a finger around it.

"_You're_ beautiful," Jemma murmured, and then realised what she'd said. She felt Emma's amusement as she tugged her shirt back down into place.

"So if our soulmate's mark reflects what our power is," Pyro said, and Jemma turned to look at him, "and if you have a _record_…"

"Then I could tell you who they might be," she concluded. "Especially if you gave me samples of your handwriting. But I don't know how ethical that would be."

"What could be more ethical than bringing soulmates together?" Emma asked, and she wound her arms around Jemma's body from behind, holding her close and nuzzling behind her ear. Jemma's legs nearly went from under her. "We were supposed to meet, honey, so you could bring the others together."

"W-what's the point?" Jemma said, blinking rapidly. "Soulmates on opposing sides…"

"Then you pick a side."

"_Me_?"

"Any side?"

Flustered by the attention to her neck, and the smirks the rest of the mutants were giving her, Jemma clutched onto her soulmate's rock-hard arms.

"Why can't we all just get along?" she asked. "Complementary colours, l-like red and green, make each other stand out all the more. When used together, they can be most striking. They don't have to fight just because they're… they're different and if you don't stop nibbling my ear I'll have to drag you away somewhere before I go into a complete meltdown."

"Point taken, sweetheart." But she didn't let go of Jemma.

"Some soulmates can never agree on the fundamentals," Magneto said, no longer smiling. Jemma tilted her head.

"Challenging another person's arguments can be quite refreshing and productive," she said. "Do you have a point?"

"I…"

"He misses you," she said softly. "Please. Don't do this to Charles. Both sides are so strong; can't you see how much more powerful a united front would be?"

He remained silent, but Jemma was still somewhat distracted, so she couldn't say how much time passed as Emma continued to touch her. The other mutants were all either looking at Magneto hopefully, or giving Jemma and her soulmate obvious scowls of jealousy. She was going to stand by her principles, however, and not allow anyone else to meet their soulmates unless they showed definite signs of turning over new leaves.

"How cruel you are," Emma murmured.

"It would be crueller to give someone their soulmate while knowing that they're on opposite sides of the law."

"Still…"

"No 'still' about it, Emma."

"Admit it. You like that hint of danger." The arms around Jemma's middle became vice-like, and she nearly ran out of breath.

"Not everyone likes bad memories to be triggered," she said, images of being under the ocean coming to the forefront of her mind. Emma immediately loosened her grip.

"Sorry, Jemma."

"I don't have problems with restraint, but I hate my breathing to be constricted."

"I'll take care of you—"

"Give me some time to formulate plans," Magneto said, interrupting them. "Emma, perhaps you could show your soulmate your cabin?"

"Gladly," Emma said, and she led Jemma away from the group.

"Is it a nice cabin?" she asked.

"Sweetheart, the only thing we'll be concentrating on is the bed."

Jemma's cheeks turned red.

* * *

"Nice of you to join us."

Jemma nearly fell arse over tit when Coulson spoke from only ten yards away. She stumbled a few steps, staring at him.

"Uh…"

"It's morning."

She looked around, noted the blue sky, and the sun shining between the leaves. "So it is."

"Apparently you've been in there since last night?"

"…Bonding takes it out of you."

He rolled his eyes and began to walk away.

"Come on!" he called over his shoulder. "You'll be interested in what's been decided."

Emma walked up behind her and began to run her fingers through Jemma's hair, combing out some of the knots.

"They've reached an agreement," she said. "And it looks like Erik and the professor will be much happier."

"Good," Jemma said firmly. "Were you… reading my boss's mind?"

"Saves time."

"I suppose it does."

* * *

**Okay, chaos asked for something involving Emma Frost. I then had to watch 'First Class' and check some things on the Marvel wiki. Settled on Jemma for the same reason as always: the thought amused me. I could imagine her thinking that Emma was hurt and showing her usual concern, not realising that she was soulmates with a villain.**

**I apologise for the mass of plot and comparatively small amount of soulmate goodness in this one. But I hope this was okay. Ooh! And zandperl asked for Cherik, so background Charles/Erik for zandperl.**

**Please review!**


	59. Size Difference (Mack x Steve)

**Note: Non-canon from episode 11 of season 2 onwards. Because it serves my evil, evil purposes, and I can no longer trust Mack.**

"Size Difference"

Steve's crush on Thor was understandable. The man was taller than him; not by much, but he was bigger than Steve, and that was enough to attract his attention. Even though the Asgardian was bonded to Jane Foster, that didn't stop the inappropriate fantasies Steve sometimes indulged in.

It was most likely due to the fact that for most of his living memory, he was the smallest one around. Anyone he was attracted to was usually taller than him, at least until the serum. He didn't want to hold someone; he wanted to be the one who was held. Those times when he needed comfort, someone there spooned around him when he woke in a cold sweat from nightmares.

He didn't just fantasise about Thor. There was Sam Winchester from _Supernatural_, although the fact that he was ten times as damaged as Steve put him off. One time, when he got drunk on Asgardian mead, he even considered Fury. It was more difficult thinking about women, since they weren't always as muscular. High heels did make a difference, gave them the appearance of additional height. Models like Tara Moss, actresses like Brooke Shields, athletes like Venus Williams. All featured in his fantasies.

There was nothing wrong with it, he figured. There were probably people who pleasured themselves to thoughts of Captain America. Maybe even Steve Rogers, but the image of the Star-Spangled Man With a Plan was more popular than the person behind it.

"Come on," Natasha said, throwing his jacket into his lap. He snapped out of his reverie. "We're going to see Coulson."

"Okay," he said, standing up. (Speaking of people who probably jerked off to thoughts of him.)

"We're meeting his team today," Clint said. His quiver was on his back and his bow was in hand. Did he really think they'd end up fighting? "Dude, don't give me that look. You're taking your shield, right?"

"Only because it's part of the outfit," Steve said, grabbing it from the seat beside him. "I'm pretty sure Coulson would have an aneurysm if I left it behind."

"We wouldn't want that," Sam said, practically bouncing into the room. "I haven't met the guy yet." Steve narrowed his eyes.

"You just had a smoothie, didn't you?" he asked. Sam grinned.

"Best boost of energy you can get, man," he said.

"You scare me sometimes."

* * *

Steve didn't mean to feel nervous around scientists – he lived with Bruce Banner, for crying out loud – but Jemma Simmons put him on edge. Maybe it was because the first thing she blurted out was a desire to examine him, and possibly his blood, to compare to the many other samples she'd collected from people on the team. And that she'd love to study everyone's blood, for that matter. Coulson rescued Steve while he floundered for a response to that.

"Maybe you can mediate between Bobbi and Hunter?" he suggested. "They're at each other's throats again."

"They're the ex-husband and –wife, aren't they?"

"That's right, captain."

"Um… who put together this team, again?"

"The original team? It's murky. But I hired Hunter, and Bobbi already worked for SHIELD."

A young woman hurried over to them.

"Bobbi and Hunter are having private time, wink-wink," she said. Coulson rolled his eyes.

"Of course," he said. "It's been at least a minute since I last saw them. I should've known better."

"Well, _we_ haven't met yet," Steve said, holding out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"You too, Cap," she said. "Is it okay for me to call you Cap?"

"Only if you tell me your name."

"Skye."

"So what d'you do on the team?" Steve asked, finally taking his hand back. He heard Coulson's snigger. Skye was oblivious.

"I'm a field agent," she said. "And a hacker. Oh! And I make the ground shake."

"Really?" he said, looking her over. Next to him, most people seemed short, but he still felt incredulous, even as her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Skye," Coulson said.

"You wanna demonstration?" she said. Steve grinned.

"Sorry, can't help thinking about how you could work that into a really cheesy pick-up line," he said. "I believe you. I'm the last person who should question people's abilities based on their appearance."

"You're damn right," she said, and she held up her fist. He recognised the request for a fist-bump, and obliged. "But I kinda hate how you've got me thinking about making up awful pick-up lines and Valentine's Day cards based on my power. Yikes."

"Sorry about that."

"Nah, it's cool," she said, and she punched him on the arm. "Go meet the others. Y'know, it would've been great if Trip was still here. His grandfather was a Howling Commando."

Steve didn't need to ask; her voice made it clear why 'Trip' wasn't around any longer.

"But I still get to meet _you_," he said. "That's not so bad, is it?"

For a second, she looked like she wanted to cry. Then she smiled.

"You're nice," she said. "I wanna hug you."

"Really?"

"No!" She looked briefly horrified. "That'd be weird!"

"Skye," Coulson said, massaging his temples.

"What? It would! He's a legend, DC. It'd be like hugging the leg of Abraham Lincoln's statue or something."

Coulson got Steve away from Skye pretty quickly as well.

"I never should've suggested that you all meet the team," he bemoaned. "This is a disaster."

"Where _are_ all the others?"

"I don't know. Probably drinking. Or sciencing. When did 'science' even become a verb?"

"It isn't, technically," Steve said.

"Look, here's the workshop," Coulson said. "Our engineer-slash-rocket-scientist should be here."

"He's the one who…?" The director nodded, his lips pursed. "So it's just him?"

"Mack should be with Fitz. Mack's our mechanic. He keeps bugging me to let him at Lola. Like that's going to happen."

"I could let him look at my bike," Steve said. Coulson half-smiled.

"Monitor him," he said. "God knows what features he'd beg to install."

"It can't be any worse than what Tony wants to do."

"Wanna bet?" Coulson muttered.

They were nearly there when a tall, dark-skinned man walked out, nearly bumping into them.

"Mack, what's—"

"Tony Stark. And Fitz. I never realised that someone could talk that fast about engineering except for Turbo."

"Damn it," Coulson said. "I'd better head this off before it gets any worse. Excuse me, Captain Rogers."

"Not a problem," Steve said, trying not to stare at Mack. This guy looked taller than _Thor_.

"Good luck with that, boss," Mack said. Coulson waved vaguely before entering the workshop. Steve could hear Tony and a Scot chattering at a rapid pace. "So, you enjoying the tour?"

Steve realised that Mack was speaking to him. Then the words registered, and his jaw dropped as he looked (_up_, thank you, God!) into amused eyes.

"Didn't think it could get any better," he admitted. Mack's eyes widened, and he looked Steve up and down.

"You're my soulmate?" he said.

"I really hope so," Steve replied. His hands itched to reach out and touch, find out if that chest and those broad shoulders really were as strong as they looked. A mechanic for SHIELD, and he looked to be in peak physical condition. He could probably hold Steve against a wall.

"We haven't introduced ourselves. I'm Alphonso Mackenzie, but the others call me Mack."

"I got that," Steve said, shaking his hand. Even _that_ was bigger than Steve's. It brought to mind what they said about the size of a man's hands, and he knew he was getting inappropriately aroused by the mere thought. "I'm Steve Rogers, but a lot of people call me Captain America."

"Holy shit!" Mack said, staring at Steve. "You're really my soulmate?"

"We could compare soulmarks, though I really think it's possible," Steve said. "I'm hoping to God I'm right, or this is really embarrassing. Um… where _is_ your soulmark?"

"In the small of my back." Jesus Christ, _yes_. "Where's yours?"

Steve smirked, and sank to the ground. Mack's eyes darkened further, he noticed, as Steve's face came close to a growing bulge. Then Steve rolled up the right leg of his pants, revealing 'So, you enjoying the tour?' on the back of his calf.

"To bond, you'd have to be…" Mack trailed off. Steve's super hearing picked up the faster thudding of his heart, the hitch in his breath as Steve smoothly stood up.

"Flat on my back under you," he said. "Or, if you're strong enough, wrapped around you while you pound me into the wall like a hammer and nail."

"I could be strong enough," Mack said, stepping closer to Steve. He didn't seem to realise he was doing it, and Steve didn't stop him, nearly coming undone when his back finally met the wall of the corridor.

"Should we find out?" Steve asked, his gaze locked on Mack's lips. He'd have to tilt his head up to kiss his soulmate. The way he was slumping on the wall, the way Mack was looming over him, brought Steve ever closer to that precipice of pleasure.

"Fuck, yes."

Mack was a vicious kisser. Steve couldn't catch a breath as his soulmate searched every inch of his mouth, biting and growling and sucking. He whined, wrapping his arms around Mack's huge shoulders, and nearly came when the taller man grinded their hips together.

"What the hell? I can't leave _any_ of my team alone with the Avengers!"

They quickly broke apart, but Steve kept a hand behind Mack's neck, and Mack kept an arm around his waist.

"Soulmate," was all Steve could say. Coulson's eyes narrowed as he looked from one to the other.

"You neglected to tell me that Stark and Fitz were soulmates," he said.

"I missed that part. They were already talking by the time I'd—"

"Fine, fine." Coulson pinned them both with a frown. "Either of you hurt the other…"

"We won't, sir," Mack said.

"Promise," Steve added.

Coulson sighed. "Please take it to Mack's room, alright? I'm already worried about the possibility that talking about engineering is going to turn into some kind of foreplay in there." He jerked his thumb towards the workshop behind him. "I don't want any members of my team traumatised by walking into a live porn show."

He blushed furiously as the director of SHIELD walked off, muttering that no one else had better pair up between the teams.

"Come on," Mack said quietly. "There's a sturdy wall in my room."

Steve shivered.

* * *

**KTT2123 requested this ship. I'm not pleased with all this 'real' SHIELD stuff happening in the latest episodes, hence the canon divergence. Had to check the actors' heights a few times on IMDb, just to be sure. And wow, I was almost blushing when I wrote that bit between Mack and Steve. Good Lord, you'd think I'd be inured by now, but **_**no**_**. It would never be that simple, would it?**

**Please review!**


	60. Awkward Moments (Jemma x Logan)

"Awkward Moments"

"As if being team doctor isn't enough," Jemma muttered, scanning the options on the shelf before her. "I have to suffer the indignity of buying 'supplies' because they're all too busy doing it like _rabbits_ to think of things like contraception. Just because I'm single…" Which reminded her. She grabbed several packets of condoms and dropped them in the basket, then walked down the aisle and threw in two packs of batteries. She'd need those.

After adding some bottles of lube, she worked her way down the rest of the list. They desperately needed to refill the first aid kits, and considering that it was spring, the bonded couples on the team were getting into the spirit of the season. For awhile, it was bearable. Then Coulson told his cellist that he was alive, and… well, it would be considered hypocritical of him to tell off the others about spending so much time in the bedroom (and elsewhere) when he was just as bad.

Jemma was the only one on the team who still hadn't found her soulmate. Sometimes it made her heart ache, and it always made the nights lonely. Lately, however, she wanted to get revenge on her team-mates.

"It isn't too much to ask, is it?" she said, pausing to look at the children's bandaids. How tempting to buy those instead, to use on her recalcitrant patients. She picked one up. "Which would embarrass them the most?"

"First sign of madness is when you start talkin' to yourself."

Jemma yelped, and dropped her basket. A hand shot out and grabbed onto the handles before the whole thing could hit the floor. Another hand touched her shoulder.

"Didn't mean t' scare you like that," the stranger said. "Here."

Shaken, Jemma took the basket back, and her gaze roamed up the bared, hairy arm until it disappeared under a sleeve, then along a shoulder and to the bearded face watching hers. He looked concerned, and she tried to get her tongue to speak. It took some time.

"I'd hoped to have something clever to say in this situation, but it appears that you've turned my brain to mush," she said. His eyebrows shot up, and he slowly smirked.

"Well, aren't you the prettiest little thing," he said, and he played with strands of her hair. Jemma was having a hard time picking up her jaw from wherever it had fallen. "Gonna say somethin' else, darlin'? Or do I keep drivin' the words right outta your head?"

"T-the second one," she said. She raised a hand to his chest, barely hidden behind a thin, white t-shirt. Absently, she began tracing the muscles, trying to list them in her mind but really just becoming _incredibly_ distracted. His chuckle vibrated through her fingers, and she pulled back. "I'm sorry. That was completely inappropriate."

"Not at all," he said. "D'you have precognition?"

"What do you mean?"

He held up one of the packets of condoms, and her cheeks must have been two red beacons.

"Might be too small," he said, eyes bright with amusement. "Not being too optimistic with the number, though."

"Not for me," she mumbled.

"Unless there's somethin' you're not telling me?"

She shook her head. "The rest of my team… they're all bonded. I'm the only single one at the moment. And I'm the team doctor, so…"

"So you go t' the pharmacy for `em?" he asked. He'd moved on to rubbing circles into the nape of her neck, and Jemma purred.

"And get batteries for…" She stopped herself, but not quite in time, because his wicked smile widened.

"You won't be needin' those anymore," he said. "Put `em back while I get some more o' these." He dropped the condom packet into the basket. "Meet me back here."

"Okay," Jemma said, still slightly awestruck that she had such a handsome, buff man for a soulmate. And his gravelly voice had her tingling in all the right places.

"Say, doc. What's your name?"

"Jemma Simmons."

"My name's Logan." He pecked her on the lips. "See you soon."

* * *

Logan explained to the cashier that they'd just discovered they were soulmates, though it didn't stop her knowing smirk. If anything, it grew, and Jemma was pretty sure only a dip in freezing water would cure her blush.

"Where's your soulmark, beautiful?" he asked, carrying the shopping bags in one hand, his other arm curled around her shoulders.

"Inner left thigh," she said quietly. "Yours?"

"I'm sure you can guess."

"May… may I see it?"

"Not in public."

They were finally at the van, and Jemma unlocked the back.

"This yours?" Logan said.

"It belongs to the team. But it's useful for shopping." She took the bags from her soulmate and placed them in a box secured to the floor. She felt the van dip, and turned around. "Logan?"

"Pretty roomy," he said.

"Y-yes." He was getting closer. "Sometimes the others… use it. For, uh, for that. I make them clean it until the germ levels are at an acceptable level."

"So we could get up to anything," he said, stroking a finger down her arm. "Parked in a deserted alleyway like this. We could make use of the new supplies."

Jemma bumped into the back of the seats, and skittered forward into Logan's arms. He nuzzled her neck, and she grabbed onto his shoulders to keep herself upright.

"Yes, please," she said. "I'll… I'll lock the doors."

"You do that," he said, and he tapped her on the behind. Her flush worsened as she locked the van doors and flipped the switch to provide them with more light. When she turned around, she saw that her soulmate was already naked.

"That was quick," she said, baffled.

"C'mere, darlin'."

On shaky legs, Jemma walked over to Logan and began to strip. He helped her when her hands trembled too much.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"If you wanna stop…"

"No! I want… some time with you before we get back to base, because everyone will want to interrogate you."

"Protective of you, are they?" Jemma smiled shyly, and shivered when she was finally unclothed. Logan's beard scratched her as he began to kiss down her neck, her shoulders, her collarbone… lower. Soon, she was on her back, writhing as he sucked and nipped tiny bruises into her skin while she begged for more. She keened as he began to stretch her with his fingers. "Y' taste so sweet, Jemma. Make such pretty noises. I'm lookin' forward to coaxin' out more of `em."

"Don't forget… forget…" She trailed off weakly.

"I know." She heard the rustle of a plastic bag, and cupped the back of Logan's head as he travelled further down her stomach, still tickling her with his facial hair. She giggled as he buried his nose in her navel and sniffed deeply.

"What are you doing?" she asked, tweaking his ears. He looked up at her with darkening eyes.

"We're definitely gonna need one of these," he said, slipping on a prophylactic. "You're real fertile at the moment, an' that's a discussion for another time."

"Oh…? Oh!"

* * *

"Where have you been?" May demanded as Jemma climbed out of the van. Logan jumped out the other side, and the others all tensed. "Who's he?"

"My soulmate," Jemma said, trying to hide her limp as she walked around to the back of the vehicle. Logan grabbed the bags for her.

"Met her while she was shoppin' for you," he said. "You're Agent May?"

"You told him about us?" May said.

"Of course!"

"You weren't kiddin' when you said they were gonna interrogate me."

"This is nothing," Bobbi said, crossing her arms as she walked over to them. "The real interrogation happens in Vault D."

"Leave him alone!" Jemma snapped. "He's my soulmate, and he said that he's willing to sit through the lie detector test to receive a lanyard."

"That's more like it," one of the Koenig brothers said cheerfully. "Come right this way, sir."

"`F you need anyone t' vouch for me," Logan said, and long claws thrust out of his knuckles, causing May to take a step back and Jemma's eyes to widen, "call Charles Xavier. Ask `im about Wolverine."

"Wolverine?" Skye said. "That name was on the Asset Register…"

"That thing?" Logan asked, raising his eyebrows. "It's still around?"

"Yeah." Skye lowered her eyes. "It's still around."

Jemma cleared her throat, and grabbed Logan's wrist. His claws disappeared back into his skin. "If anyone needs contraception, we've stocked up. Try not to race through them, would you? We'll… we'll be in the medical storeroom, if anyone needs us."

"We'd like to talk to him first," May said, nodding to Logan.

"Actually, I need my lanyard before I can go anywhere else on base," he said, blinking innocently at her. Jemma nearly laughed. She noticed Skye smothering a giggle. "Just a second, Agent Koenig."

Then he pulled Jemma into a kiss reminiscent of the one they shared the third time they climbed into the back of the van to relieve some of the tension. Jemma had to lock her knees in place so she wouldn't melt into the floor. When Logan let her go with a final, sweet peck, he handed her the bags, waiting before she had a good hold of him before letting go.

"Not too heavy for you, darlin'?" he asked.

"N-no. They're fine."

"Good." He winked. "I'll find you later."

Jemma couldn't help ogling her soulmate's form as he followed Agent Koenig to the lie detector room. She hummed as she left the others, and made her way to the medical stores. She was well aware that the others were following her, and shut the door pointedly in their faces. Skye opened it, of course, and leaned against the door jamb.

"So, tell us all about him," she said.

"I… well, I don't know much about him," she said. "His name is Logan… and apparently he's Wolverine. He's…" She sighed dreamily. "A phenomenal lover. Remind me to get out the disinfectant for the back of the van. Actually." She looked down at the bags. "I bought some because we're running low. Hmm." She set aside one of the shopping bags. "That's for Logan and me. I hope you all like Dora the Explorer bandaids."

"Dora the Explorer?"

"And One Direction. Choose your punishment." She swiftly put everything away; topping up the first aid kits could wait until later.

"Simmons—"

"Look." She turned to her friends. "You all have each other, have had for ages. I met my soulmate today, after all these years, and now you want to spoil that for me? When I've had to watch _all_ of you being happy together, and knowing I couldn't have that? Now I can, and if I have to leave to be happy with Logan, I will."

"D-don't go," Fitz said. "Please, Jemma."

"And don't think I haven't noticed all the times you've put your soulmates ahead of everyone else," she continued. "I'm going to extend the same courtesy by making _my_ soulmate my first priority. So please… lay off him, or I'm leaving."

* * *

Jemma was in her bunk, fanatically tidying until the room looked positively bare, the top drawer of her bedside table half taken up with the… supplies Logan had purchased for them. She'd shoved her toy into the bottom of her wardrobe, and wondered whether she should try to find something sexier to wear when there was a knock at her door.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, beautiful."

She smiled nervously, and let her soulmate in. She waited for him to comment on the neatness of the room, but was instead swept up in a bone-melting kiss.

"Nearly threw the readings on the lie detector just by thinkin' about you," he growled into her mouth. "The things you do t' me, Jemma."

She reached around and locked the door. She debated over switching the soundproofing on, but ultimately decided against it. She'd put up with enough noise herself over the past couple of months; the others could stand to be put through it as well.

"And what things will you do to _me_, Logan?" she asked.

"Well, I could…" He murmured increasingly naughty suggestions into her ear as they undressed hastily. By the time he was pressing her into the bed, she'd not only forgotten about her team-mates, she'd also forgotten her own name, and was perfectly happy about it.

* * *

**Troodon requested this ship. I wanted them to meet in some obscure place, but settled on a pharmacy because how embarrassing would that be, considering what Jemma was buying for the rest of the team? No idea who everyone else is paired with, aside from Audrey/Phil. Don't know, don't particularly care. At least Jemma and Logan are about to have all the smut.**

**Please review!**


	61. Maybe Magic, Maybe Mundane (Loki x Skye)

"Maybe Magic, Maybe Mundane"

Skye narrowed her eyes as she watched the footage of a giant robot attacking New Mexico. She'd snagged it from the internet before SHIELD – it _had_ to be SHIELD – could pull it. Good thing, too; only twenty-five minutes after she found and downloaded it, it disappeared, along with everything else related to the bizarre goings-on. More corrupt corporate cover-up.

She was going to get to the bottom of this.

There was no way she could afford to fuel the van for the long drive, let alone fly, and SHIELD would probably have everything cleaned up before she could get there, so she dug deep in her usual way. First off, she found the Twitter account where the first picture of 'Thor' (did they really think it was some Norse god?) had been posted. Cheesy grin aside, he was cute. And dreamy. Seriously dreamy. The kind of dreamy that could power the world if it could be tapped as a source of electricity.

"Okay, Miss… Darcy Lewis, what's your story?" she said, fingers flying over the keys of her laptop. "Student… Culver University… political science… intern. Jane Foster, huh? Where are you lovely ladies based?"

She screamed when there was an earth-shaking thump outside. A second later, she closed her laptop, slid open the door, and jumped out of her van.

"What the _hell_ was that?" she said, looking around.

There was a man down the alley, black hair, panting, lying at an unnatural angle, and wearing… a cape. Like the one Thor had been wearing, except he was blond and tanned. This guy was pale, and he looked… really unwell. She ran over to him, and he scrambled back when she got near.

"Whoa, whoa," she said, holding up her hands. "Are you okay?" He didn't reply, just stared at her. She squatted down in front of him, suddenly really concerned. "Please say something."

He shook his head, slowly, then faster. "It cannot be you. A mortal? Impossible."

"What d'you mean?"

"By the _Norns_!" he said, and it definitely sounded like he was swearing. He struggled to his feet, and Skye stood up, ready to catch him if he keeled over, because he looked to be in serious danger of that.

"What's your name, sir?" she asked.

"I am… no one," he said, his eyes darting back and forth. They finally settled on hers, and he frowned. "You are?"

"I'm—"

"No, you mustn't!" he barked, his eyes widening. Then there was a flash of light, and he disappeared. The last Skye had seen, he'd been reaching out to her. She stumbled forward, feeling for him, but he was gone.

"Weird," she muttered. "Better check the date on those sandwiches."

* * *

The next time Skye saw the stranger – who she seriously thought she'd hallucinated – was when she was watching live coverage of the Avengers fighting some flying robotic monsters in New York City. She cleaned up some of the footage simultaneously, and saw a man in clothes which were similar, but with longer hair.

"Can't be," she said. There were some freeze-frame shots. She collected all she could, firing up her best software. Thor was there, and so was Iron Man.

Stark Tower…

With a grin, Skye began her hack. She eventually cracked into the security system, and located the cameras. Something tried to block her, but she managed to catch a quick look of Tony Stark talking to her mystery guy. It _was_ him.

"Holy cow!"

Then her line was cut off, and she quickly left the hack before Stark's people could wipe her hard-drive.

"Damn," she said as she sat back. "Huh. Cute guy, but apparently the villain? That sucks."

With a frown, she rolled up her right sleeve, and traced her fingers over the weird shapes which were supposed to be her soulmark. It was itching, and she scratched it absently as she stared at the live footage. Everything was winding down now. People had died, according to the reports running across the bottom of the screen, and she took a minute of silence for them.

Well, there was no way SHIELD could cover all of _this_ up. Everyone was going to know that Earthlings weren't alone in the universe. Superheroes, honest-to-God _superheroes_ were out there! This was public.

And she was gonna make sure it stayed that way, no matter what.

* * *

"Visitor from Asgard," Skye said, looking up from her laptop. She tensed, remembering what happened last time she'd been in Sif's presence, along with that Kree. Her tremors were getting under control, but another confrontation like that wouldn't be good, especially if it justified Sif's belief that Skye should be imprisoned on Asgard. She'd have to be extra careful.

"Who is it?" Coulson asked. If it was Thor, they were basically screwed. The god would be pissed to find out that he was alive. Maybe happy as well, but mainly pissed. It was a big secret to have kept all that time, and if any of them let slip that Sif had known all along, that wouldn't be good for the warrior goddess, either.

"We're about to find out," Skye said. "It's only a couple of minutes' walk away."

"How did they even find us?" Simmons asked.

"Isn't there, like, a gatekeeper?"

"Heimdall," Coulson said. "Maybe he saw me?"

"He'd have to be looking for you," Skye said, frowning. "I mean, there are billions of people in the world."

"Let's ask when whoever it is gets here, okay?" he said. "I'll… be in my office."

"Too late."

"Son of Coul?"

"I presume that's Thor?" Simmons said. Fitz snorted softly.

"Are you going to swoon over his arms?" he asked. "Or exclaim over his 'dreaminess'?"

"It'd so be justified," Skye said, following Coulson out to the hangar. The others trailed behind. They were there in time to see Coulson flinch back when Thor stepped closer to him, Mjolnir in hand and a thunderous (pun totally intended) look on his face.

"What sorcery is this?" Thor rumbled.

"Alien sorcery," Coulson said. Which, y'know, was true.

"I got the treatment, too," she said, waving, trying to get some of the attention away from Coulson. "Alien blood, but… we don't know the source."

"Yet," Fitz said. Just as well. Simmons had gone completely still, and was staring at Thor. And possibly his arms. Who could blame her? "We'll find out eventually."

"When were you going to inform us that you were living?" Thor asked. Unfortunately, he was still fixated on Coulson, so Skye stepped up to his side as support.

"Who's your buddy?" she asked Thor.

"This is my father, Odin," he said, gesturing to the old guy with the eye-patch. "Father, this is the Son of Coul. He is the one we thought died at Loki's spear."

"I did die, actually," Coulson said. "It was being brought back to life that was the worst part. Being unmade like that…" He turned pale, and Skye glared at their visitors.

"Next time call in advance, okay?" she said. Odin was staring at her, and it was unnerving, so she had a perfect right to get a little annoyed.

"You are Loki's soulmate," Odin said. Skye blinked.

"Say what?"

"You are his soulmate."

"That's… impossible. I mean, yeah, the soulmark is weird, but—"

"Show me."

"…No. Not if you're not gonna say please."

Odin's frown deepened, but Skye stood her ground.

"Very well," he finally said. "Please show me your mark."

"That's better," she said, rolling up her sleeve. She showed the Asgardians her mark, and they leaned in close.

"Would you like to see a translation of the words?" Odin said softly.

"I would, thank you."

He waved his hand, and 'It cannot be you. A mortal? Impossible' appeared for a few seconds. Just long enough for her to read. She backed off.

"I met him once," she said. "I didn't know it was him. He had shorter hair. Then he disappeared, but he said that to me. I can't remember what I said, but he was… really in a bad way. I thought I'd hallucinated it until I saw his picture during the invasion. That's… when he'd killed you." She looked at Coulson, whose eyes had grown wide. "I swear, I had no idea. I've never been able to read this. I guess… I should've asked that professor dude, the Berserker, to see if he recognising the writing, but I usually forget it's there."

"It's not your fault, Skye," he said, patting her arm. "And Sif told us he died. I'm very sorry for your loss," he added to Odin and Thor. "And especially the queen's death. She sounded like a remarkable woman."

"She was," Thor said quietly. "However, I am stunned that your mark should still be upon you, Lady Skye, when my brother is dead. I would question whether `tis one of his tricks…"

"Perhaps we should ask Heimdall," Odin said, clapping Thor on the back. "Now you have seen that the Son of Coul lives. My Lady Skye?"

"Yes, sir?"

"If we discovered Loki to be alive, would you wish to meet him?"

"Are you kidding me?" she said, shocked. "No! He killed Coulson! I… I know it was only temporary, but he's the enemy… one of _many_ enemies, so no. I don't wanna meet him. My last almost-boyfriend turned out to be a spy for HYDRA, and the boyfriend before that chose money over the morals he always drummed into us, and got an innocent man killed. I don't wanna go through this again, especially on a god-like level. No." She shook her head as she wrapped her arms around herself, and backed off. "Not going there, _ever_."

Odin studied her until she was fidgeting with nerves. Then he nodded shortly.

"Come, Thor," he said. "There is much to discuss."

"Very well, Father," Thor said, but he was still staring at Coulson. "You must disclose this to the rest of the Avengers, Son of Coul. They all deserve to know the truth."

"I'm surprised they don't already know, but I'll get onto it right away," he said. "Have a safe journey back."

"Bye," Skye said, giving them a short wave. They all watched as their Asgardian visitors left as quickly as they'd arrived. "Crap."

"I'm sorry, Skye," Coulson said.

"What're you apologising for?" she said. "_None_ of this is your fault."

"Loki is… was your soulmate."

"And apparently an Asgardian… or whatever soulmate is for life," she said, waving her arm. "Swell."

* * *

The first weird thing was that a HYDRA cell in Europe closed down. Then another. And another. It swept through Asia, but they were all fairly covert, whoever was doing this. The Oceanic region was next. Nowhere was safe for HYDRA. And the American factions were in a panic, which was hilarious to see and easier to exploit than before. No one was sure who was picking off all of the organisation, but soon North America was the only continent which hadn't been touched by this mysterious force.

Didn't matter much. They were hiding out – maybe they knew something SHIELD didn't know? – and Skye and the rest of the team became less focussed on HYDRA and began to target other agencies and bad guys. The Avengers were less than helpful, always calling for Coulson's help, or just bugging to see him in general.

"Dude, stay away from our director, he has more important things to be doing!" she snapped on the phone one day. She didn't care who was on the other end of the line. "He'd prefer to watch _Supernanny_ than play the role to a bunch of jerkass superheroes."

"…This is Pepper Potts?"

Skye blinked, and then cleared her throat. Coulson was lying on his sofa, an icepack on his head.

"I stand by my statement," she said. "He's resting."

"Tell whoever it is that I'm busy," he said. "If it's Fury, tell him to go fuck himself."

"I'm… not telling her that."

"Look, I'll try to keep the others off his back," Miss Potts said. "Is this Skye?"

"Yeah," she said slowly, suspicious. "How'd you know my name?"

"Thor is here. And he has Loki."

Skye put the phone on speaker. "Hang on a second. DC?"

"Yes, Skye?"

"Oh my God, Phil?"

"…Hi, Pepper."

"Um," Skye said, "can we focus on the fact that Loki is apparently with you?"

"Hello, Skye," a familiar voice purred. She sat on the floor; the chair wasn't close enough. Coulson hurried to her side and knelt beside her.

"What is he doing there?" he asked.

"Ah, Director Coulson. So glad to hear your voice again."

Coulson was ashen, and Skye regretted putting the phone on speaker. What was she thinking? What if he started to have a panic attack?

"Uh…" She grabbed the phone again and took it off speaker. "What do you want?"

"I have nearly wiped out HYDRA. I wished to know whether you wanted the traitor brought to you?"

"That… that was _you_ wiping out all those cells?"

"Why, yes. Surely you desire to see an end to—?"

"Of course, yeah," she said. "Hang on." She hissed to Coulson. "Loki's the one who's been decimating HYDRA."

"Good," he said, still looking dazed. "I guess that makes up for stabbing me through the chest."

"I wish to make amends," Loki said. "How else may I serve you, my dear?"

"Why?" Skye blurted out. "I mean, aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"I am the trickster god."

She face-palmed. "Right. But—"

"You are my soulmate. I have waited a lifetime to find you. You intrigue me, Lady Skye. As you will not see me while I still have innocent blood on my hands, and I am attempting to… replace bad deeds with good ones."

"I'll… I'll have to talk it over with my team."

"You could bring them here!" Tony Stark called out. "Pepper wants to see Agent."

"Look, just gimme a couple of hours, okay?" Skye said. "I've gotta think about it and talk to the others. I mean, you're gonna outlive me by centuries, Loki."

"Nonsense. I will ensure your longevity should you wish to bond with me, although that simple act ought to be enough. Once I have finished destroying your enemies. If you could send a list, I would be terribly grateful. It is easier than asking Heimdall to spy upon your records now that I am no longer masquerading as Odin."

What?

"Yeah, okay," Skye said. "I'm just gonna… go now. Nice talking to you… I guess?"

"The pleasure was mine, Lady Skye."

Then he hung up, and Skye placed the phone back down carefully.

"Um…"

"We'll talk about it, Skye. Meanwhile, help me up?"

"Like you need it," she muttered.

"I do after that."

"I'm sorry," she said, helping him stand. "I should've guessed it wouldn't be great for you to hear his voice."

"He's your soulmate, Skye. I'll have to get used to it."

"No, you shouldn't," she said. "I know I wanted to stay with the team, but if Loki gets rid of the rest of HYDRA, you won't need my help as much. And if you start working with the Avengers, you definitely won't need me."

"We'll always need you."

"I can go to Asgard with Loki. You don't have to be around him—"

"No, that's stupid. Don't go to another world you don't want to visit just to make things easier for me."

"Don't you see?" Skye said, pacing back and forth. "Obviously it's destiny that I go there. It'll be safer for everyone, I'll be away from my father, I can… get control over this. I could come visit you guys from time to time. And HYDRA will be gone."

"Skye—"

"And I can be with my soulmate," she added softly. "He killed you, sir. But I always had this fantasy that my soulmate was going to be a gallant prince who'd defeat my enemies and sweep me off to his fairytale kingdom, where I'd be treated like a princess. Just an orphan's fantasy, I know, but it's sort of real. I mean, he was… maybe still is a prince of Asgard. I don't know the deal there, but he was a prince, and he's wiping out the big enemy that screwed up my life. Asgard _is_ supposed to be like a fairytale kingdom. Maybe I'll get a happily ever after?"

"I keep losing agents," Coulson said, leaning back against his desk. "I can't stop you if you _really_ want to go. But I'll… we'll all miss you. Try to find some… scrying pool to talk to us often, okay? When you're not being a princess?"

Skye snorted. "I could never be anything other than down-to-earth. You know that."

"I do," he said. He pulled her into a hug. "We love you, Skye."

"Love you, too, DC," she whispered.

* * *

HYDRA was gone. Skye's father was gone. Ward was in their custody, because they still didn't have closure when it came to him. But Loki had completed his main objective, and Skye was heading back to Asgard with him, this time with the real Odin there, and Thor and the teams waving them off. Skye held on tight to her soulmate's torso as they shot through the Bifrost to Asgard, and she nearly stumbled into a tall guy she could only assume was Heimdall.

"Yo," she said.

"Lady Skye," he said. "Welcome to Asgard."

"Uh… thanks for having me? Nice to be here?"

"Do not sound so unsure," he said. "You were meant to be here."

"Oh."

"Come, I will show you to your chambers," Loki said. Skye couldn't help dragging her feet as they entered the palace, but tried to keep her spirits up for Loki's sake. He led her into – there was no other word for it – opulent quarters. She gaped as she stared at the furnishings, wandered from room to room, and stopped in front of a strange-looking mirror.

"What's this?" she asked. "Is it like the mirror in _Beauty and the Beast_?"

"I am unfamiliar with that tale."

"What does it do? Can I see people with it like Heimdall?"

"No," he said.

Her shoulders slumped. "Didn't think it'd be that easy."

"What troubles you, my dear?" he asked, touching the small of her back.

"Just… I'm gonna miss my friends. They're my family. They were there when I was dying and did everything they could to save me. They've… saved me in more than one way. Then I repay them by deserting them, and… No, it's not your fault. Fate paired us for a reason."

"Skye, you are not abandoning them," he said. "If you but touch this ornamentation," he pointed to a flower at the top of the mirror, "it will present you with a way to access one of the guest floors in Stark Tower. Lady Pepper reserved it for me, and the twin of this mirror is in the bedroom there. I did not deem it advisable to leave the second mirror anywhere frequently visited."

"So…" She tried to wrap her head around this. "You're saying that I can teleport from here back to Midgard anytime I want?"

"Straight to Stark Tower. Not an ideal arrangement, but—"

She couldn't not kiss Loki after that, so she cut off his words by throwing her arms around his neck and planting one on him. He seemed surprised, but got with the program quickly enough, and she definitely would've taken it further if he hadn't stopped her before they could reach the bedroom.

"Not until after the wedding," he said. "Asgard is a traditional society."

"Damn it, Loki—"

"And I would not wish our first time to be gratitude on your part for so simple a matter."

Simple? Freaking god-aliens.

"But—"

"I would like to court you first," he said. His cheeks actually turned pink. It was adorable. "So that you will like me for more than just… this." He gestured to the mirror, and Skye nearly melted.

"As you wish," she said.

* * *

**What?**

**Uh, zandperl asked for Loki/Skye, and Mira SeverusSirius Black-Snape has been bugging me for a Loki chapter, so here you are, m'dears!**

**And please review, everyone! Not entirely sure about this chapter, because unless I make things extremely non-canon with Loki, it's hard to come up with believable ways to pair him. You know, without having to go the redemption route like I usually do in these stories.**


	62. Disco Inferno (Johnny x Pyro)

"Disco Inferno"

Wearing a cap wasn't exactly the best disguise, especially at night, but Johnny hadn't cut his hair since his last break-up, and the blond coming out made him look more like Steve Rogers. Not what he was going for. Besides, if he caused another scandal attributed to Captain America, he'd get a lecture from Susan, which he _didn't_ need. Or want.

"Okay," the bouncer said, jerking his thumb to let Johnny past.

Johnny trotted down the stairs to the newest club on the block. Disco wasn't exactly his thing… but maybe his soulmate liked it? Besides, there was always the risk of trouble in the first few days of a bar's opening, and Johnny liked to be near trouble. Either to be a part of it or fix it… he didn't care. With the Avengers around now, he had less to do in the way of superhero-ing, except for the rare times they bothered to ask the Fantastic Four for help, or didn't send them away saying 'We've got this covered'.

There were people at the bar, and the booths were already crowded. People were grooving on the dance floor on multi-coloured neon tiles, while an honest-to-God disco ball rotated above them. He smirked, and headed for the bar. Once he had a drink in hand, he'd consider his options. There were more women in the booths, more men at the bar, and a mix among the dancers.

"Burn, baby, burn, disco inferno," he sang along softly, waiting for the bartender to notice him.

"What can I get for ya?"

"A hurricane?"

"One hurricane. Anything else?"

"No, thanks." Johnny slid a hundred across to him. The bartender's jaw dropped. "Keep the change. Consider it a house-warming present."

"Thanks, man," he said. "That hurricane will be right with you."

"As strong as you can make it. I burn off alcohol easily."

While the barman was shaking the drink, Johnny watched. Could never be too careful. Besides, he hadn't decided what to do next. Find a booth packed with hot-looking women, pull out some cheesy moves on the dance floor, or maybe even chat someone up at the bar. He wouldn't have far to go.

The bartender placed the drink in front of Johnny, who took a sip. His eyes closed.

"Best. Hurricane. Ever," he said, and he grinned when the man smiled, obviously pleased with himself. "Thanks, man."

"Go enjoy yourself now."

"I will."

Johnny moved around the edge of the dance floor, searching for inspiration. He sipped at his cocktail, keeping the heat down so the drink would stay cold for longer. The Bee-Gees were singing – did this place just have the soundtrack for _Saturday Night Fever_ on repeat? – and he couldn't help swaying his hips a little as he watched the dancers.

"You should be dancin', yeah." He walked closer to the booths. "Dancin', yeah."

He noticed a young man stalking away from a booth, leaving behind another man and a group of women all laughing. Johnny's lips twitched, and he wandered over to the table to find out what was going on. He was passing another when a woman snagged his sleeve.

"You don't wanna go there right now, honey," she said. "The dude just got burned."

"Literally?" Johnny asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Nah, but the other guy's a jackass," another girl piped up. "We heard them. They were being pretty harsh."

"Was _he_ being a jackass?"

"Only as much as any guy hitting on a table of young women," the first one said. Johnny smiled sheepishly.

"One of us, huh?" he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks for the warning. Maybe I'll steer clear of them. I'd ask if I could join you but, hey, don't wanna be that guy."

"You're okay. Sit down."

"Wouldn't wanna make you uncomfortable," he said, raising a hand. "There isn't enough room. I'm happy to stand here and talk. Hell, I'll even keep my eyes above the neckline. Scout's promise."

"You'd better get another drink, then come join us."

"Yeah, I'll—"

"Think you can just make a fool outta me?"

Johnny swung around, and everyone look as the blond guy strode back towards the table. This was the trouble Johnny had been expecting, and he set his glass down as quietly, even though the music covered it pretty well.

"Look, dude, just go away and find someone else to practise your stupid pick-up lines on," the guy at the table said. The bimbos around him giggled, and Johnny found himself wondering why he'd gone for those sort of women in the past. Oh yeah. Sex.

"A brush-off I can take," the blond said. "It's your damn attitude that needs adjusting. I'm not so stupid I can't take a hint."

"Guys, let's keep it nice here, okay?" the barman called to them. Johnny noticed a flicker of light, and glanced at the blond's hand. A lighter, being flicked on and off. Shit. They were in a club. Alcohol, neon gas in the lights. Probably a hundred people down here, at least.

"You wanna see how I deal with people who piss me off?" the blond asked, raising the lighter.

Johnny was already running towards him when there was a surprise fireball. It exploded against his body, and he briefly mourned the fact that Jerry Lee Lewis wasn't being played. There were screams, and he knew his clothes – damn, that new jacket was awesome – were being burned away. The blond's eyes widened, and he backed off a step.

"You're on fire," he said dazedly.

Well, fuck.

"You shouldn't play with matches," Johnny said. "But I'm guessing this was the aim?"

"Um… oh."

Johnny let the flames die off, before reaching forward and snatching the lighter from Firebug Sam.

"Let's get you outta here before they call the police," he said, shoving the lighter into the pocket of his Fantastic Four uniform which, thank God, he was wearing out of habit.

"You're…"

"Yeah, we'll talk about that outside," Johnny said. He scowled over at the table of jerks. "I doubt you've learned your lesson, but just be grateful that someone was here to stop him tonight, `cause the next time you might not be so lucky."

There were some cheers and applause as Johnny led the guy out the front door, along the pavement, and then around the corner where it was darker. He lit one hand and used it to examine the man who was possibly his soulmate.

"It's not the first time someone's told me I'm on fire," he said. "It's a pretty common occurrence, or used to be."

"It's your soulmark."

"I'm Johnny Storm, also known as the Human Torch. I should probably have apologised to the others back there, for making them think they were about to see someone burn to death. But then they almost did." He narrowed his eyes. "Do you usually go about flaming people who hurt your feelings?"

"Trying not to make it a habit."

"Well, _try harder_. Do you know what a blaze like that could've done to a freakin' disco club? Gas in the lights, booze behind the bar, and it's partially underground. It's not like people could jump out windows to safety if there was a real fire, and no sprinklers started up when you flamed me, so I'm thinking that's something which needs to be looked at."

"Why'd you even bother to keep me outta trouble?" the blond asked.

"Because it's the kinda bone-headed thing I might've done when I was your age, and it's much better to be stopped from doing something bad than be punished after the event. If I didn't stop you… it'd just be downhill from there." He shook the guy's shoulders. "You need to sober up. How much have you had to drink?"

"…Not much."

"But enough?" He nodded, and Johnny sighed. "Let's get you home."

"But why would _you_ care?"

"You might be my soulmate, dumbass!"

"I'm sure as hell not showing you my soulmark."

"Did I say your words or not?" Johnny said, glaring at the young man.

"You did."

"Then why—"

"Because they're on my dick."

"…Oh. Yeah, you don't wanna get arrested for exposure. That's not a good thing."

"So…" The blond cleared his throat and looked down at the ground. "Where's your soulmark?"

Johnny held out his right hand, displaying the words 'You're on fire' written across the middle. He smiled smugly when the blond's cheeks darkened to red.

"What's your name?" he asked softly.

"John Allerdyce."

"Huh. Good thing no one calls me John, or that'd just sound narcissistic. Don't think my sister won't comment on it, though. So. You have fire powers, too, don't you?"

John shrugged. "I've got the x-gene. I'm… a mutant. Just a little spark of fire is all it takes, and I can burn down entire buildings. Probably more, if I wanted to."

"Please don't do that, _ever_."

"`Kay. But… it's my writing. On your hand."

Johnny leaned closer to him. "I wouldn't mind seeing _your_ soulmark, baby."

"Pyro. That's my… that's my mutant name."

"Superhero or supervillain?"

"Definitely not a hero," John muttered.

"But you're my soulmate, so hey, can't be all bad, right?" John snorted, and Johnny punched his arm lightly. "What'd you say to that group? Something about a pick-up line?"

"One of many I try on new people, to see whether they answer with 'You shouldn't play with matches'. Bad puns, _really_ bad puns, but…"

"You were trying to find your soulmate," Johnny said, understanding. Before he became the Human Torch, he'd tried every kind of sport he could find that he excelled at, the kinda thing where people might say he was 'on fire'. Then he was blasted with super powers, years after he gained his soulmark, and it made more sense than anything else had before.

"I should've known it'd be someone like you," John said. "I couldn't burn you by accident."

"Well, you could, but it wouldn't hurt me."

He breathed out shakily, and Johnny pulled him closer. "I'm scared."

"You don't need to be scared, kid. You're with me."

"I nearly killed a lot of people tonight."

"We're hot-headed types. Literally. Shit." He laughed quietly. "Susie was hoping I'd find someone who'd keep me outta trouble. I have a feeling it's gonna end up being the opposite. I'm gonna have to be the responsible one."

"I'll try to behave," John promised.

"You know what'd make me happiest?" Johnny said, tipping his chin up. John's eyes dropped to his lips, and he licked them absently.

"What's that?" he asked.

"For you to be yourself. I won't know how to help you unless I know _you_."

John sighed. "Okay."

"You sound disappointed."

"I thought you wanted a kiss."

"Mmm. That, too."

* * *

Lying in blue sheets, legs tangled together, Johnny was mapping the freckles on John's stomach.

"Your brother's a genius," John said. "Seriously. I didn't know flameproof sheets like this _actually_ existed."

"They decided it was for the best when I started having nightmares. I usually have to control myself even when it's just me and my hand. But… holy hellfire, if there were metal springs in this bed they would've melted last night."

"It's never been that intense for me, _ever_."

"Well, we _are_ soulmates, babe," Johnny said, and he kissed John's neck. "But I know what you mean. Not having to hold back in case you consume someone… you were right. It was intense. And if you can still walk this morning then I haven't done my job."

"Is it your job to make me an invalid?"

"It's my job to wear you out with really great sex… and then get you breakfast in bed. Stay here."

"What?"

"I won't be long! I've made breakfast before."

When he left the bedroom, Johnny noticed that furniture and trinkets had been moved away from the door, and anywhere nearby. Ben looked pissed off.

"We could feel the heat from here," he said. "Had to move stuff before it began to melt, and Reed blasted the air-conditioning until it reached Arctic levels of freezing."

"Aw, did you crack under the pressure?" Johnny snarked. Ben flipped him the bird. "I'm gonna make breakfast for my soulmate, so if you'll excuse me."

"You? Make breakfast? Are you _trying_ to kill him?"

"Hey, I make my own breakfast all the time, and I'm still here."

"You burn any toxins in your body," Reed said, walking past with his head stuck in a book. He glanced up at Johnny, brows furrowed. "Clearly your room isn't sufficiently heat-proof. I'll have a look at it later."

"Uh… thanks?"

Reed nodded shortly and continued on to his lab. Johnny shrugged, and got together the basics for breakfast. He could make toast. And coffee. And cereal. Wait. How did John take his coffee? What if he didn't drink it? What if he was _allergic_ to something?

"Calm down," John said, rubbing Johnny's shoulder. He rolled his eyes.

"I'm supposed to be doing this for you," he said.

"It's not my birthday. Equal share of the labour. Now show me where the eggs are."

"Are you… gonna make an omelette?"

John sniggered. "I'm not that good. I'm making French Toast. Want some?"

"Yes, please!"

* * *

**Okay, bad news. I've lost interest – and inspiration – in this series, so this is a wrap. It's appropriate that the last chapter was a ship requested by ozhawk, without whom this series wouldn't have happened.**

**It's been a lovely journey with all of you, and I hope to see you again someday. I don't know whether I'll be continuing the bonding scenes, either, but we'll see. Maybe if I'm bored or something.**

**Please review!**


	63. Such Sweet Sorrow (Doom x Pepper)

**Note: I can act in writing? I was expecting more protestations after… Sigh. It's my own fault. Author is horrible, and apologises to anyone who didn't read the previous chapter on April Fool's Day. And hello, the word 'platonic'! I haven't used you in awhile.**

"Such Sweet Sorrow"

Pepper had never understood her soul words. Who said 'Parting is such sweet sorrow' as their _first_ words to her? Just in case it was during a performance of _Romeo &amp; Juliet_, she went to as many shows as she could, until she had the damn play memorised. She even auditioned for an amateur production once, but she knew she was terrible at acting, and it was just as well that she didn't get in. The line was said to Romeo, _by_ Juliet, and Pepper… she preferred men. Not that she'd care if her soulmate was female, though it didn't look like a woman's writing. She'd be happy to keep it platonic, if that was the case; her few 'experiments' in college didn't convert her to bisexuality, and non-platonic soulmates were meant to be compatible in bed, so…

And then Natalie Rushman was hurriedly introduced to her as Tony's new assistant, before the man from security rushed off again.

"Parting is such sweet sorrow," the redhead muttered to Pepper, giving her a sardonic smile.

"Those are my soul words!" Pepper said, her hands scrunching around the edge of the paperwork she was holding. Miss Rushman was an employee; this had the potential to be awkward. Until…

"Those aren't mine, though," was the reply. "And I know who my soulmate is. It's a platonic relationship. Not that you aren't attractive, but I wouldn't mix work with pleasure."

"Oh, thank God," Pepper said. "I-I mean, you're very attractive, too, but I wouldn't feel comfortable with it, either."

"You haven't found your soulmate?" Miss Rushman asked as they walked along.

"No, I haven't. You're the first person I've met who's said those words to me as a greeting."

Miss Rushman clearly thought back over her words, and she chuckled.

"I can see why," she said. "Sorry to get your hopes up."

"No, no. Don't be. Now I know at least one way they could be someone's first words to me. I hadn't been able to figure it out before, and now you've shown it's not a lost cause."

"You don't go to the theatre too much, do you?" Pepper ducked her head slightly, cheeks turning pink. "I've heard of worse plans."

"It's probably time to let Fate take its course," Pepper murmured.

"You'll find whoever it is. You have the mark to prove it."

It was some reassurance, and Pepper began to feel better about the whole day already.

* * *

Five years later, they were celebrating SHIELD's triumphant return, and a truce between certain governments who'd banded together to stop World War Three from erupting between Europe, the Middle East, and Egypt. People had been calling it World War Three, ignoring the actual wars between worlds which kept spilling over onto Midgard. (Admittedly, SHIELD squashed as many rumours and disasters as possible, but in a world with the 'information super highway', nothing truly remained hidden).

But this was a celebration Stark style. In other words, a huge party with all the trimmings, and Pepper's customary mild headache. Even with Phil Coulson's help she was still feeling the stress of so much preparation. World leaders weren't holding such big events, and they didn't have super-powered people present, either. Including those who'd fought certain guests such as Victor von Doom.

Latveria's ruler had chosen to start behaving himself. The country had flourished, and his agreement to host a branch of SHIELD in Latveria had seemed less sinister after he made it clear that he preferred to exercise his ambitious nature in making Latveria the premiere country of Eastern Europe.

He was going about it the right way, which Pepper would tell him if they ever met.

"Stop monopolising my time, Tony," she scolded. "Go talk to Bruce."

"He doesn't like spending time with me at parties," he said, pouting.

"Your soulmate is sensible," she said. "You're too much most of the time, and at parties you're just unbearable. Especially since you and Bruce are joined at the hip most of the time."

"Why, Miss Potts, have you been watching us?"

"Go, Tony," she said, nudging him away. "Schmooze with people."

"And try not to be myself," he said, and he rolled his eyes. "Got it."

Pepper noticed Victor von Doom approaching, and tugged her dress to make sure it was falling properly. She picked up a glass of champagne from a passing waiter for something to hold, and smiled at the ruler of Latveria. He nodded as he got closer, and she was about to step forward and offer her hand when someone ran over to Doom. He frowned at them, and Pepper couldn't help mirroring the action. She'd spent an hour trying to get to Doom, and now they were being interrupted before they could even talk.

"Sir, there has been a train crash near the border to Hungary," the man said.

"How bad?" Doom asked.

"At least ten bodies have been recovered, and it's anticipated that there'll be at least fifty more."

"When did this happen?"

"Only an hour ago."

He sighed. "Very well. I will go."

"Thank you, your honour."

Doom smiled half-heartedly at Pepper, and swiftly bowed over her hand.

"Parting is such sweet sorrow," he said. And then he walked off, leaving Pepper with her hand still in the air and her thoughts whirring.

She had to know. She had to say something. But he was leaving, almost out the door, and she was in heels. Natasha… Natasha was nearby. At Pepper's frantic gestures, she smoothly walked through the crowd.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Victor von Doom has just left," Pepper said.

"Did he say something to offend you?"

She swallowed. "It wasn't much of a conversation. He was summoned before it even began. All he had time to say was… 'Parting is such—"

"'Sweet sorrow'," Natasha concluded. Her composure had been rocked a bit, Pepper could tell. "Where is he going?"

"Back to Latveria. There's been a train wreck…"

"Pledge support to the Latverian government, whatever Stark Industries can do for them, even if it's just sending extra emergency crews or supplies," she said. "Do it now, while I organise transport."

"I don't know what to do, Natasha."

"What you always do. You'll stay in control and keep calm. Make the announcement. It gives you an excuse to leave so that you can make the arrangements. Then leave that to me as well."

"You're a life-saver."

"This isn't life-saving. It's just possible match-making."

"I still owe you."

"Yes. Yes, you do. Now go, Pepper. I'll find you when it's time."

Pepper nodded, and hurried off to interrupt the band, pulling up news feeds for Latveria on her phone so that she could get the most up-to-date information.

* * *

Victor's private plane was on the way back to Latveria. He sighed internally over another missed opportunity to speak to Pepper Potts. He'd long wished to meet the woman who was the face of Stark Industries. It was certainly a pretty face, attractive enough to keep his attention from straying further south (although that was still a great temptation).

"Sir?" the co-pilot called.

"Yes?" he asked irritably.

"There is another plane close by."

"What?" He looked out the window. Sure enough, there was a jet with a familiar logo flying alongside them. He raised his eyebrows. "Can you connect with them?"

"It's Miss Potts, sir."

Victor rose abruptly. Out of the window he could see the door on the side of the jet opening, and saw Pepper Potts there, in her dress but wearing a jacket. And combat boots. He blinked a few times, trying to see what was really happening, but no. The image remained the same. Baffled, he opened the side door of his plane and clung onto a strap.

"What are you doing?" he shouted.

Something shot out and attached itself just above the door. A line. Then Miss Potts was zipping across it, and Victor had to catch her. They almost fell to the floor, and he wondered whether he'd had too much champagne. Or whether this was an elaborate plot, perhaps by his enemies. Perhaps this wasn't the CEO of Stark Industries after all—

"I had to know whether it was you," she said, and she gasped for breath, clutching onto him. He led her away from the open door to a seat and stroked down her gale-swept hair.

"May I see your soulmark?" he asked, shaken by these developments.

"Did I say your words? Because you said mine."

"Yes, you did," he said. He could hardly believe it. _Virginia Potts was his soulmate_?

"Okay," she said. Then she reached behind her dress and… apparently undid whatever held it in place, because the front fell forward, baring her breasts and her stomach, with his writing curled around her navel. Victor had already removed his jacket and tie, so it was easy to unbutton his shirt and show her the corresponding mark.

"Is it yours?"

"Yes, it is," she said. He saw the tears in her eyes, but she was smiling. Then she launched forward, nearly knocking him over, and he wrapped his arms around her as they kissed. It was far from how he expected this evening to turn out, and so much better. He straightened up where he knelt, pushing her back into her seat, and their soulmarks hummed against each other where they were pressed. Victor was aware that they could very well start to bond, and he knew that he would prefer it to be in private, not while he was on his way to Latveria to address a crisis.

"Later, my pet," he murmured, pulling back. She whimpered, her hands squeezing his shoulders.

"We need to talk first," she said, although it sounded as though she was trying to convince herself more than him.

"You must return to your party," he said.

"No! No, I'm going to Latveria with you. I just… need to tell Natasha that—"

"Sir," the co-pilot said again, wisely remaining in place after closing the hatch. "Agent Romanov is requesting confirmation from Miss Potts that you and she are soulmates."

"We are," Pepper said.

"Yes, we are," Victor said, stroking her waist. "Now close the door between us. I wish to have privacy while I talk with my soulmate."

"Of course, sir." Then they were alone, without interruption. Victor noticed the Avengers Quinjet moving away again, but Pepper was far more interesting. He ran his hands up her sides to her breasts.

"No brassiere?" he inquired.

"Built into the dress," she said, her breath catching as he caressed her skin.

"How convenient," he said, and he bent his head to taste her.

* * *

"They're on TV," Bruce said, pointing. He'd dragged Tony home early, and fortunately the party had ended soon after. The sobering news of mounting numbers of bodies had dampened the spirits somewhat, and the rest of the evening had been spent discussing relief for Latveria and Hungary.

"Who?" Tony said, emerging from the en suite where he'd been brushing his teeth. He leaned down and kissed Bruce with minty-fresh breath.

"Pepper and Doom."

"Both?" Tony hopped onto the couch beside his soulmate, and burrowed into his side. Sure enough, Pepper was standing next to Doom, still in her dress from the evening but now wearing a fur. Faux fur, knowing her preferences.

"America will be giving all the support it can," Pepper was saying. "I've been talking the matter over with… Victor, and we've—"

"Wait, did she just use his _first name_?" Tony said incredulously. "That can't be right. I don't think they've ever even _met_ before."

"Maybe she isn't sure how to address him?" Bruce suggested. "There's a lot of debate over it."

"Yeah, but this is _Pepper_. She wouldn't make a mistake like that."

"If we listen, maybe we'll find out."

"I'm texting Barton. He'll know, and he'll actually tell me, unlike Romanov."

"Tony, be quiet. Doom is speaking."

"…and my soulmate has assured me that Stark Industries will—"

"What?" Tony shrieked, nearly falling off the sofa. Bruce's eyes widened comically.

"Really?" he said.

"They… they can't be soulmates! Where's my phone? I'm _calling_ Barton. No, screw that. JARVIS, whatever Clint's doing, tell him to stop, because this is more important."

"Tony—"

"Look at her, Bruce! It's true! Either that, or an elaborate lie. I mean, she goes to the theatre sometimes, but she's not… I don't know, Olivia de Havilland."

Pepper looked flustered, pushing her hair back behind her ears while her eyes were averted from the cameras. Doom wound an arm around her waist while he continued to speak, and Pepper actually leaned against him. One of her hands covered his, and she smiled up at him when he said her name. He smiled – _smiled_! – back at her.

Holy hell. That blush on her cheeks. That'd been there the whole time. It wasn't the cold weather of Eastern Europe. It was _satisfaction_. She was nearly glowing! There were comments from Twitter running along the bottom of the screen, both in Latverian and English, gossiping about Peppers Potts and Victor von Doom being soulmates, what this would mean for shares in Stark Industries.

Damn it. There'd be a board meeting about this in the morning.

"This is bad," Tony said.

"Not for Pepper," Bruce pointed out. "She's found her soulmate, and you and I both know how lonely she's been."

"But what if she _leaves us_, Brucey?"

"We'll carry on and be supportive. Besides, maybe they'll live separately?" Tony snorted. "Maybe Doom will visit us."

"…Crap. What'd I do in a past life to deserve this?"

* * *

**Pairing requested by someone on AO3 who wasn't registered, and only left a dash sign as their 'name'. So… yeah. Can't really credit that, but anyway. I did my best.**

**I've never pulled an April Fool's Day joke before, not that I remember. Apparently I **_**suck**_** at it. You people are supportive, and make me feel absolutely despicable, because I thought there'd be stronger, more negative reactions! Good Lord, I prefer to write stories with chapters in multiples of five, and there are so many more pairings to fill! I don't know whether I should be flattered or offended that you believe I'd just drop this, one of the best things that's ever happened to me.**

**Please review, if you're not too pissed off.**


	64. Hold Still (Bruce x Skye)

"Hold Still"

"What do you mean, they just disappeared?"

"Just that, sir," Simmons said. "Their life signs have disappeared."

"They're not… they're not…" Phil was mentally counting to ten, clutching the railing he was nearly bent over.

"Dead," Fitz said.

"No!"

"I mean they're not, sir. They just aren't… aren't…"

"There," Simmons supplied.

"That's right. They've gone."

Phil wondered just how impractical it would be to dent a brick wall with his head. In the grand scheme of things, probably _not_ practical.

"How many have vanished?" he asked.

"Barton, Romanov, Rogers, Barnes, Stark, Wilson, and Banner," May said. She must have gotten back to the van after staking out the area. Phil was with Hunter while they checked Loki's last known location. "Looks like Thor is off-world."

"So where are the rest of them?"

"We're searching, sir," Simmons said.

"And does _anybody _know where Skye is?"

"Right behind you," she said dryly. Phil spun around. "Sorry, but I've been busy."

"Where the _hell_ were you? We've been looking for you!"

"Yeah, sorry about that," she said, walking up to him. He pulled her into a hug. "Kinda had to escape Bobbi somehow, didn't I? Look, I'm back now. I'll tell you all about it later."

"Speaking of, can we get back to finding the evil alien who's probably kidnapped the Avengers?" Hunter said.

"Here, use my head-set to stay in touch," Phil said, clipping his comm. unit onto Skye.

"DC—"

"I'll grab another one when we rendezvous with the others."

"Hello, Skye!" he heard. Skye winced.

"Hey, Jemma," she said.

"Are you armed?" Phil asked. She shook her head.

"Not unless you count making the ground shake."

"Take this. I've got another one."

"Sir—"

"Please? We won't be splitting up, and I'd feel better if you had a gun as well."

Skye rolled her eyes, but she accepted the firearm, and they went back to searching the area. Until…

"Hold up!" Simmons said. "I've locked onto six of the seven readings identical to members of the Avengers Initiative."

"Only six?" Hunter said.

"Where?" Phil asked.

"Three blocks west of where you are. I'm pinpointing the location now…"

Phil was already running. Whoever was missing, they'd find them later.

"Sir, get back here!" Skye shouted. Phil didn't hear any other voices objecting, and then he remembered; he'd given his comm. set to Skye. Oh well. Where he was going, he might not need it.

"Son of Coul."

He skidded to a stop and saw a familiar face. Lorelei. He stuck his fingers in his ears and glanced back over his shoulder. Good. Skye had seen her, and was obviously reporting it. He used the brief distraction of Lorelei's amused expression to shoot her in the throat with an ICER. It wouldn't hold her for long, but she needed to be rendered mute somehow. As soon as she hit the ground, he ran forward, tore off bits of her clothing, and used it to gag and restrain her. Skye nearly reached him before he was running again.

"I don't know how she got out, but warn the others that there might be more!" he said. Then he ran through what he could remember. Heimdall. He was the one Sif had called on last time. But if Thor was off-world, he needed to be able to return. What if Phil disrupted that? Would Heimdall even see or hear him? He grabbed out his phone and called his team.

"Okay, I'm three blocks west," he said, chest heaving with uneven breaths. "Where to next, Simmons?"

"Uh, you're very close, sir," she replied. "Two buildings south…"

"Yeah?" Not an abandoned warehouse, thank God; an old theatre, actually, which would make sense considering Loki's flair for the dramatic. "Got schematics? How many floors underground? It's a theatre, so there has to be at least one basement." He lowered his voice, checking the sides for possible secret entrances. If the building was being watched, he'd have to be careful about how he got in.

"A large space below the stage, considerable backstage area, the stage itself, the stalls, the balconies—"

"You can't pin a more precise location for the Avengers?" he asked.

"…Not without hacking into the CCTV, and there's nothing Fitz can find in the building, although we're sending the DWARFs in."

"Power's off in there," Fitz said.

"Get it back on. I'm not a cat; I can't see in the dark." Then he hung up, put the phone on silent, and stuck it back in his pocket. ICER still at the ready, he crept in through a door which was just about hanging off its hinges. It didn't squeak, but then he was very good at opening squeaky doors without making a sound. He allowed time for his eyes to adjust, the gloom somewhat relieved by windows which hadn't been boarded up well enough. He stuck to the shadows, and something in him – alien blood, perhaps? – led him in the direction he needed to go. He ducked back around a corner when he saw… not Vin-Tak, but someone like him. Another Kree?

There was no way he was going to risk taking an alien, not with a single weapon and no back-up. He had an extra round of ICERs, and no idea what he might be facing.

"Agent Coulson?"

"Director Coulson," he said through clenched teeth. He looked over his shoulder and cleared his throat. "Long time, no see, Loki. Lucky me."

"Fortunate indeed. I could have sworn I killed you."

"I'm not that hard to keep down."

Loki loomed over him. "There is something different about you."

"Being resurrected can mess with someone. You'd know all about that."

"You will not be needing thi—"

Okay, that bit about not fighting aliens? Phil at least had to try. He struck out, hitting Loki in the throat – that was a popular one, all May's fault – then kicked Loki just below the belt. Before the god could recover from that, Phil hit him with an ICER. He didn't have time to mourn not having his comm. unit, because the Kree had come running. Phil got a lucky shot. It clipped the alien, but a few more physical hits and he was able to restrain the Kree using his belt, then knocked him out against the floor.

It'd been guarding a door. Phil kicked it open, and found stairs. Below the stage? He sent a message, knowing it was quieter, to let the others know where he was and who was there. Then he crept down the stairs.

Damn. Two more Kree. At least it wasn't three, he told himself, mentally shrugging. He got one with an ICER immediately, leaving him with only one super-strong alien to bring down.

"Yay!" he cheered softly, sarcastically. It snapped the Kree into action. It charged at him, knocked the gun from his hand, aimed a punch at his head. Phil ducked, roundhouse kicked, rolled out of the way and did a quick inventory of his surroundings. There were people on the floor nearby – please, God, let them be okay – and noticed old carpentry tools only a few feet away.

"The mortal is mine!" Loki bellowed from the top of the stairs.

"Ah, shit," Phil said. He rolled to his feet, leapt for the nearest toolbox and grabbed a crowbar. A hit from it would kill a human; what would it do to an alien?

"Sir," the conscious Kree said, edging closer to Phil, who watched it all, baffled. "There is something strange about the mortal."

"He carries the blood of your people," Loki said, a demented grin forming on his face. "That is what healed you, is it not, Agent Coulson?"

"_Director_ Coulson," he said, scowling as he stalked forward. He swung the crowbar casually, felling the Kree in one go and stopping as Loki climbed down the stairs. "Of SHIELD. Appointed by Nicholas Fury himself."

"Do you intend to slay me with a hunk of metal?" Loki inquired. "When your Avengers couldn't fight my magic?"

"Magic is just an advanced form of technology, albeit one we don't understand," Phil said, dropping the crowbar to the side. "Yet."

"You cannot possibly believe that you hold all the answers, or ever could. Especially once the Kree right behind you—"

"Do you really expect me to look around and check?"

"I only needed you sufficiently distra—"

Phil feinted one way, then leapt the other while Loki tried to blast him. Of course Phil knew there was an alien behind him, and Loki had just taken it out. Phil, meanwhile, had got his hands back on his gun. He shot to throw Loki off-balance, grabbed out his spare ICER cartridges, then threw them at the god. With a well-aimed shot – of course – he hit Loki in the chest with one bullet and a magazine full of cartridges. Loki fell down the stairs, unconscious, and his head hit the floor with a sickening crack.

"Distracted," he finished. "That's right, you son of a bitch."

Then Phil looked up, and saw – to his relief – that the Avengers were there and awake. Natasha was closest, so he ran to her first and removed the handcuffs.

"What did he do to you?" he asked urgently. "What did Loki do, Romanov?"

"Who are you?" she said. He met her eyes, his heart sinking.

"Shit," he said. "Do you know your name?"

"I'm not telling you my name until I know who you _really_ are." She glared as he released her legs. "Phil Coulson is dead."

"…Ah." He moved on to Stark, who was propped against the wall next to her. "You missed that part of the conversation where I was injected with alien blood.?"

"Phil!"

He looked back over his shoulder. "I'm down here, May." He looked around. "Tell the others to look for Dr. Banner. He's missing."

"He isn't with you?" Stark said. Phil noted the worry in his eyes.

"We'll find him," Phil said. "We're good at that. Hell, we found you." He released Wilson next, and moved on to the Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, who was studying him.

"You're supposed to be dead," Barnes said. Phil snorted delicately.

"Can't seem to make it stick," he said, and he half-grinned at the soldier. There was a sharp intake of breath, and he glanced at Rogers, who was next to them. Phil continued to work on the bindings, using the diamond-edged blade FitzSimmons had knocked up for him. Proving very handy right now. "I'm sorry, captain."

"Sorry for what?" Rogers asked. Phil shrugged, and moved on to Barton.

"That we couldn't protect the work of the SSR," he said quietly. He backed off once they were all free and beginning to stand. He paused by the crowbar, seeing the blood dripping from it, and wondered whether Simmons would be interested in a sample. But then there was another Kree upstairs; she could take samples from that.

He answered his phone as he ran up the steps. "What is it?"

"We found Dr. Banner, sir."

"Where is he, Fitz?"

"Skye's on her way to his location. He's… the Hulk."

"What happened?" he asked sharply, passing Simmons who was, indeed, taking a blood sample from the unconscious Kree.

"Some kind of monster. He was dealing with it. He's trapped now."

"Skye's going to face the _Hulk_?"

* * *

There was a huge roaring sound. Two, actually. Skye continued to run, listening to the others' conversation over the comms. It wasn't long until she found one of the scariest scenes she'd ever seen. The Hulk's leg was partway under the cracked ground, while some large white monster pranced around, batting, taunting him.

"Okay, so there's, like, a giant polar bear here, guys," she said.

"Skye, keep back," Coulson said. "I'm on my way to your location."

The Hulk roared, nearly falling over when he twisted to try hitting the monster. Skye narrowed her eyes. She hated bullies just as much as Captain America did. Well, Gordon had been helping her; she was gonna put that to good use.

"I'm going in," she said.

She switched off the comms, cutting off several people mid-curse, and ran towards the two giant combatants. She held out her hands, feeling for the vibrations, and began collecting bits of debris and torn-up road.

"Hey!" she shouted. No response. "HEY!"

The monster stopped prancing. Skye noticed that the Hulk was bleeding.

"Oh, that does it," she said. She waved her arms forward, pelting the white monster with everything she could picked up, until it was lying, unmoving, on the ground. Then she ran forward, despite the Hulk roaring again as she came to a skidding stop. "Hold still, buddy."

She dropped to the tarmac, finding anything she could to widen the gap in the road and make enough room for the Hulk to get his foot out. Cracks formed, and she looked up to smile reassuringly at the doctor…

Who was shrinking down. At an alarming rate.

"No!" she cried. Suddenly, he was human again, and the break was deep. She summoned another large rock and sent it into the hole. "Grab hold, Dr. Banner!"

She saw pale hands latch onto the rock, and Skye brought it back up, closer to her, and held out her hand.

"I've got you," she said. He gingerly reached out, and caught on.

It took a bit of manoeuvring, but soon they were both on solid ground, and Skye was checking him over. There didn't seem to be much in the way of scratches on him – she guessed that was thanks to Hulk super-healing – and he was staring at her, so she quickly took her hands back.

"I'm sorry, that was bad of me. I mean, it'd be just as bad if the genders were reversed, only people would kick up more of a fuss—"

He kissed her.

…That was unexpected. And weird, because he was naked. And kinda hot, because _oh my God gorgeous scientist-superhero_. Skye was perfectly happy to climb into his lap and let him embrace her, lower her to the ground…

"You usually this horny after a transformation?" she mumbled into his mouth. Good thing her comm. was off, or Coulson probably would've fainted.

"Only when I find my soulmate," he said, and he kissed her again.

O… kay. Really good reason.

Oo-ooh… _really_ good.

* * *

"Who bonds in the middle of the battlefield?" Phil said. (Bruce figured he should call the guy by his first name.)

"Apparently… we did?" Skye said. She and Bruce were still holding hands. He couldn't bring himself to let go, not now that they were bonded. The Hulk had approved, probably led the whole thing subconsciously, and Bruce had never felt so content in his life, not even before becoming the Other Guy. The soulbond did what even yoga couldn't do for him, and it meant he could feel his soulmate's emotions. Her destructive power, which she tried to use for good and had to exercise huge control over, just like him. He felt everything about her humming just beneath the surface, and he wanted to know more.

"How is this my life?" Phil muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "'Join SHIELD,' Nick said. 'Do your country proud,' Nick said. 'Make _Captain America_ proud,' Nick said. Manipulative asshole."

"On the other hand, I… never would've met you?" Skye said. "By the way, if we get married I want you to walk me down the aisle, okay? And… I don't know, we'll get the Avengers to keep Ward and HYDRA and my dad away. Or something."

"Thinking ahead, aren't you?" Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow. Skye grinned up at him.

"Life's too short to waste time, dontcha think?" she said.

"Um…"

"Look, I'll propose properly later, after I get a ring, but we're bonded and it's clearly not gonna be a platonic relationship, so I wanna grab onto you while I can. `Kay?" Bruce blinked, and he nodded. "Great! Now c'mon, I want you to meet my friends."

"Good to see you, sir," Bruce said to Phil. "I look forward to working with you in the future. Officially."

"I don't know how much interaction _I'll_ have with the Avengers, but—"

"It'll probably be a lot, since you said Stucky's soul-words," Tony said. He hadn't even bothered to get back into his armour, since Thor was back and destroying whatever the creature was that Skye had saved Bruce from.

Tony's words probably registered for Bruce around the same time they did for Phil.

"Stucky?" he said. "That's…"

"Ship name for Barnes and Rogers," Tony said.

Phil visibly swallowed, and Bruce cleared his throat as Bucky and Steve walked over to them.

"Phil?" Steve said.

"Age… Director Coulson," Phil said, which seemed a bit harsh to Bruce. Or maybe he was getting what Skye was feeling? This was going to be an interesting experience; he'd already been planning to make notes.

"Sorry," Steve said. "Uh… can we talk to you?"

"What about?"

"Gee, I dunno," Bucky muttered. "Maybe the fact that we're _soulmates_?"

"Yeah." Phil gulped again. "Just got that. Sorry I didn't notice at the time, but 'You're supposed to be dead' is something I've heard a few times since I… got back. Loses its effect after awhile."

Bucky held out his hand. "Haven't been introduced. I'm Bucky Barnes. You can… you can call me Bucky. Helps with the memories, sometimes."

"It's an honour to meet you, Sergeant Barnes." Bucky flinched noticeably. "I'm sorry, but it's more professional—"

"Screw professional!" Bucky said heatedly. Then he dragged the director into his arms, and Bruce ushered Skye away after it became clear that Phil didn't mind being surprise-kissed. If he was like a father to Skye, then she really didn't need to see that.

"Show me to your friends," he said, trying to distract her.

"Okay, they're uh… they're over here…" She kept glancing back over her shoulder at the triad. "Is he gonna be alright?"

"Absolutely fine. Couldn't be in better hands."

"I'd like to be in _your_ hands again," Skye said, eyeing him salaciously and making him glad he had clothes on again. Bruce wasn't used to feeling anything other than bone-deep tiredness after transforming back from the Other Guy; it was weird to feel this energised.

"Speaking of that, are you on contraception?"

"…Uh…"

"You need to get to a pharmacy."

"Simmons will have something. She's a fan of yours; c'mon."

"You're taking this awfully calmly," he remarked.

"Should I be terrified?"

He cocked his head. "I'm the Hulk."

"Only part of the time, and I saved him – you – so it's cool."

"Skye—"

"Hey." She pulled him up short and held his face so he was focussing on her. As if he could focus on anything else when she was looking at him so seriously. "You know what I've been afraid of? That my soulmate would be intimidated by my abilities. That they'd _hate_ me because they couldn't understand it, the feeling of losing control and hurting people, maybe people you care about, because you're scared or angry or upset. My heart-rate goes through the roof when I lose control, and that's when the bad things happen."

"That's what happens to me, too," he murmured.

"I've had to learn how to control myself… that thing inside of me that makes me hurt people when I don't mean to. I've had to learn to channel it. That's where I've been since SHIELD – the other SHIELD – came after me. A man named Gordon, he helped me. Suddenly I wasn't just breaking glass or making water all… spirally. Or blowing forests down like some ubër Big Bad Wolf. The granddaddy of all Big Bad Wolves." He chuckled. "Maybe I could help you, if you ever need it?"

Bruce cupped her cheeks. "I was concerned that my soulmate would be scared of… me, and the Other Guy."

"He's not so bad. Didn't get much of a conversation with him – it was kinda one-sided – but then I didn't have much of a conversation with you before we bonded."

"I guess not."

"So…" She trailed off. He met her brown-eyed gaze, and her cheeks reddened. "I'd better introduce you to the others."

"I want to meet everyone important to you," he blurted out.

"Which is… my team. Basically."

Bruce hugged her close on impulse, held her trembling body, and let her sadness and love and hope wash over him.

He would do _everything_ he could to make sure she never felt that sadness again.

* * *

**Daw. Sappy way to end it, but whatever.**

**So! Sorry I haven't updated this in a few days, and it's probably karma because of that stupid prank, but whatever. I've also started three other chapters and sort of become stuck partway through them. But! I've got a job, so yay! It'll still leave me with plenty of time for writing, and it's next to an equestrian club, so I can see horses outside, and it's all very exciting. Went along for what I **_**thought**_** was a second interview – and was consequently nervous – but it turned out to be so that they could offer me the job. Yay!**

**Um… so I wanted to do the pairing of Bruce and Skye? And then threw in background Bucky/Phil/Steve, because I do that occasionally. When in doubt, add shades of Capsicoul or Phucky (seriously need a better name than that).**

**Please review!**


	65. Need Better Words (Hunter x Jemma)

**Note: I should probably put in spoiler warnings for some of these chapters, shouldn't I? Right, spoilers for S02E15 in the second half of this chapter.**

"Need Better Words"

It had been a horrendous time, and Jemma was allowed to feel strung out after she finally returned to SHIELD. Shaken, but not much worse for wear. Things could have turned out much worse, after all, would have if it wasn't for Bobbi. But then, judging by the story, if there hadn't been someone at HYDRA to protect her then Skye might have been delivered to her father, who was apparently a monster. Poor Skye.

On the journey to SHIELD, Bobbi had told her some stories about her unreasonable ex-husband, who Jemma began to hate on principle.

"He's not a bad guy," Bobbi said. "I mean, he's a mercenary, but he was in the SAS."

"He's British?" Jemma said. Admittedly, that was interesting. Bobbi nodded. Well, he couldn't be _all_ bad then. The only British accent that she heard in person anymore was Fitz's, and he… well, she'd see how he was soon enough.

"You could talk about the motherland, and how Americans just don't know how to make tea," Bobbi said teasingly. Jemma arched an eyebrow.

"I have a healthy appreciation for the tea here," she said. Bobbi tilted her head like a bird. "But… there are some things it would be lovely to discuss. Especially if Fitz decides not to talk to me." Her heart sank as she looked out the window.

"Don't worry about it," Bobbi said, patting her arm. "Just don't listen to any of the stories Hunter tells about me. I'm basically the she-devil to him."

"No love lost between you?"

"None."

"But… aren't you soulmates?"

She laughed hollowly. "No, we're not. I almost wish we were, but… it's better this way."

"Have you found your soulmate?"

"Not yet. But I hope I will, someday. You?"

Jemma shook her head. "I keep thinking that I do, but…"

"What's your mark?"

"Bad luck to tell."

"Damn, that's true."

"But it's terribly generic."

"More common than you'd think," Bobbi said.

"Yes, but if you don't notice it after awhile, how do you find your one?" Jemma said.

"Try to say something unique. Maybe give them your name?"

"I suppose so."

"Or maybe," she sat back, "you'll know who it is just by looking at them. I know that's been the case before with some people. There's been an instant attraction which _could_ be mistaken for something physical, but once they've said their words," she snapped her fingers, "that's it, and they both know."

"It all sounds far too convenient to be real."

"Ah! Too young to be so cynical."

"I _am_ twenty-seven," Jemma said indignantly.

"True."

"And I work for SHIELD. New SHIELD, that is. The one not tainted by HYDRA."

"Mmm-hmm."

"We'll rise above it, like the eagle."

"It should be a phoenix."

"And we'll never let ourselves be betrayed again," Jemma murmured, leaning her head against the glass of the window and looking out as they neared the Playground.

* * *

Great. Well, the pretty English girl was clearly going to be on Bob's side, Hunter realised as he heard the doctor exclaiming over how 'amazing' Bobbi was. Couldn't deny that; but oh, if the girl only knew what Bobbi was _really_ like…

They nodded to each other when she introduced them, but Hunter could already tell that the girl didn't like him. What'd Bobbi been saying? Typical.

So it was no surprise when they bumped into each other one evening, and Simmons pursed her lips upon recognising him.

"Hi," Hunter said. She looked him up and down.

"Hello," she replied. Then she moved past him.

"What'd I do to you?" he asked over his shoulder. She paused, looked back at him.

"I'm Bobbi's friend," she said.

"So that means we can't—"

"I know you've said horrible things about her."

"Listen, sweetheart, you weren't married to Bobbi, you don't know her the way I do—"

"Don't call me 'sweetheart'!"

"And don't presume that she's never got a hidden agenda, Simmons. She lures you in, gets all the information she wants, and then leaves when she's finished with you. She keeps secrets from her secrets! That's what makes her the perfect undercover agent."

She shook her head fiercely and walked off. Unsettled, Hunter returned to his room.

"One day you'll learn," he said quietly, closing the door behind himself.

And maybe he'd learn that lesson, too.

* * *

Who did they think they were, 'Real SHIELD'? And _Professor_ _Weaver_ was with them?

It was lovely to know that she was alive, of course. Jemma knew that, and Fitz agreed with her. But… Coulson was their leader. Bobbi and Mack were supposed to be on their side, and _never lie_ to them. What did this mean for her fellow Englishman?

Poking Mack harder than was strictly necessary, Jemma pursed her lips.

"Where is Hunter?" she asked. "Is he with you?"

"He got away," Mack said. "We took him there, but he refused to join New SHIELD. Too stupidly loyal to Coulson."

Jemma prodded an injury with precision, relishing Mack's pained grunt. "Thank you for saving Fitz."

"He's my man—"

"He is _not_ your man! And if you think he's going to think well of you for this betrayal, you can think again. Fitz has had enough of that. From Ward, even from me when I left, and now you and Bobbi. He _trusted_ you."

"Look, Jemma—"

"Don't call me that!" she snapped. "Was anyone else involved?"

"No, just me and Bobbi."

"And you don't know where Hunter is?"

"Personally?" Mack said. "No, I don't. All I know is he skipped out—"

"And you tried to make us believe that he abandoned us," she said, shaking her head. "I would almost prefer you to have been HYDRA. At least we know to kill or capture HYDRA; we don't know what to do with you."

"Doc, you're not the ones in charge here."

Jemma scowled at him, loaded up an antibiotic, and stuck the needle straight into his arm without preparation. He hissed, and she yanked the syringe back out and threw it into the sharps bin.

"Make sure you don't get that infected unless you want to risk your arm falling off," she said, and she flounced out of the room. One of the agents tried to stop her, but she backhanded the man. If he had whiplash, he'd better not come crying to her.

"Jemma," Weaver began. Jemma turned her head away and returned to Fitz's side.

"We need to get out of here," she whispered.

"We have to wait for May or Coulson to tell us what's happening."

"I hope Hunter's okay."

"I thought you hated him?"

She shook her head slowly. "I did at the start, but then I spoke to him a few times, played some games of Scrabble. We never had to consult a dictionary." Fitz smirked, well aware of her propensity to use unusual words to trip up their American friends. "I told him about life in Sheffield, he told me about his favourite places in London. I… I came to like him. And I hope he's still alive."

"I'm sure he is, Jemma."

"You must feel terrible. Mack is your friend."

"Was. He can't be anymore. I can't… _do this_ anymore."

"I'm sorry, Leo."

He placed his hand over hers. "We've still got each other. And we'll have the others, when we…"

"Get out of here."

"Yeah. `Cause we will, Jemma. I promise."

"This time we'll do it together," she said. "No more solo heroics."

"At least we're not under the ocean this time."

"It does make a bit of a difference."

* * *

"Do you really think this is the best place to rendezvous?" Hunter asked, glancing around the smoky bar-room.

"Who'd think of looking for us here?" Coulson said. "Billy and Sam are still looking for Fury and Skye. May's bringing FitzSimmons. As long as we keep out of HYDRA's path for the next few days, we'll be safe."

"And out of the Avengers' path," Hunter said. Coulson flinched.

"SHIELD was supposed to be the last line of defence," he said. "I still believe that. But while there's still debate over who's really in charge of SHIELD, the Avengers are it."

"A bunch of superheroes with conflicting personalities?"

"That's them."

"Brilliant."

"I'm sorry about Bobbi. If I'd known…"

"Nah. I should've known better. Should've waited for my soulmate."

"You haven't met them yet?"

"My soulmark is probably the most generic soulmark known to man, Coulson."

He winced. "My sympathies."

"If I like the look of the person who says it to me, I say something unusual in return, hoping for the best, but… nothing."

"What if you don't like the look of the person?" he asked.

Hunter shrugged. "I haven't had someone tell me that I've said their soulmark, so I'm gonna assume I haven't met them yet," he replied.

"Hunter… oh, here they are."

Coulson waved the team over, at least what was left of it.

"Still no sign of Skye?" Simmons said, sliding into the booth next to Hunter. Fitz sat beside her, and May next to Coulson.

"Haven't heard from either Agent Koenig yet, and Skye hasn't called any of our usual numbers."

"And nothing from Fury?" Fitz asked. Coulson shook his head.

"We're stuck for the time being," he said. "I've been trying to find a new safe house. Hunter did suggest a plan."

"No more covert," Hunter said. "The people calling themselves the 'real SHIELD' said that they were tired of all the secrets, that they wanted to work out in the open."

"So, naturally, they sent in spies," Coulson muttered.

"Instead, we beat them to the punch," Hunter continued. "Website. Permanent, public address. Top security, yeah, but logo on the front. Leak any secrets we find out about the bad guys. Get General Talbot's stamp of approval. Make ourselves known to the world. It… _may_ bring the Avengers onto our case, but we'll be saying that we're anti-HYDRA, that we're open for help from the public, and not keep any more secrets. Well, except for surprise birthday parties, but that'd be between us."

"You want us to go public," May said.

"We've started designing a website," Coulson said, folding out his handkerchief on the table. "Okay, it's a bit crude, but we haven't got Skye with us. I bought a book on webpage design, though. We can paint our own signs. I've already got my eye on a place, and Maria Hill's getting it for me. If we just want it as a new safe-house, that's okay; she's keeping the paperwork dark for us. But if you agree with going public…" He tapped the centre of the handkerchief, and Hunter waited for the others' reactions.

"It's just an idea," he said.

"It's a good one," Simmons said. "You're right, they won't be expecting it. This will take the wind right out of their sails."

"Teach them to mess with us," Fitz added. "I can help with setting up the website."

"Thank you, Fitz," Coulson said. "We're also going to join Youtube, Twitter, Tumblr, Facebook… every social media outlet we can. We're gonna spread the word."

"And bring the Avengers down on us when they find out you're alive," May pointed out.

"Public support from them; all the better."

"Even if Stark kicks you out?"

"I'm relying on Pepper Potts if it comes to that."

"Does it mean I can tell my parents I'm alive?" Simmons said. "Fitz can tell his mum?"

"And I can tell Audrey," Coulson said. "Hell of a bonus, isn't it?"

"The pros outweigh the cons," May said. "For the time being."

"Once we're out there, we're out there, May," he said. "No going back. If Skye is free, if she can get back to us, then she'll know where to go."

"So will Ward and Skye's father."

"Assuming they're not holding her hostage already."

She nodded slowly. "It's the best plan we've got. I say let's do it."

* * *

They stayed at a motel the night before they moved into the new premises. It sounded quite business-like that way, and less like a military operation. After all, they hardly had the numbers of an army anymore.

Fitz, Hunter, and Coulson already had a website up and running, May was helping the Koenigs with the search, and Jemma was already fielding messages from people through the website between writing up videos to release on Youtube. Potted versions of their own stories, to humanise them. It kept her busy, kept her mind off the betrayal, and marvelled for the umpteenth time that she stuck around, instead of going home to England and working in a hospital pharmacy, or perhaps a clothing shop where no one would think to look for her.

"Wanna get a drink with me?"

She looked up from her script.

"That sounds lovely, Hunter, thank you," she said. "I need a break."

"Come on, love. Lemme tell you a bit more about the Barbara Morse you never met."

"The good things or the bad things?"

"I didn't see much of the good outside of the sex and the jokes. Not the best basis for a marriage between non-soulmates."

She sighed, and let him lead her downstairs to the bar. He bought their first round, and she nursed her drink for awhile before taking her first sip.

"I never should have left the lab," she said.

"Don't be like that, petal. We never would've met. The team wouldn't be the same without you. Hell, you might not've made it out of HYDRA-Gate."

"We nearly died anyway. And was it truly worth it?"

"You're asking the wrong man, Simmons. I can't stop making poor life choices."

"You joined us," she said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. He chuckled.

"Probably the first good decision I've made since I divorced Bobbi all those years ago."

"I wish I hadn't let her influence how I saw you. I made a terrible first impression."

"No worse than me, love," he said.

"You warned me—"

"I was bitter. Accurate, especially in hindsight, but bitter."

"To growing older and wiser," Jemma said, holding up her glass. Hunter clinked his against it, and they drank.

And drank. Two drinks became five, which became more. Which became tumbling into Hunter's bed half-naked

"This is a bad idea," Hunter muttered, tossing Jemma's bra over his shoulder.

"Absolutely terrible."

"But damn it, you're gorgeous."

"Please kiss me?"

They did more than that, becoming entangled under the covers and lost in each other. Hunter moved over Jemma, filling her – the first time anyone had – and she curled one leg around his back and the other flush against the back of his leg. It was amazing, better than she'd ever expected, and—

"What the _hell_ is that?" Hunter hissed, breaking the kiss. Jemma's stomach fell.

"Am I doing something wrong?" she asked. "It… it feels lovely."

"No, it's not… oh my God…"

"Lance, what is it?"

He pulled out and away, and she noticed light fading from the back of his leg. She swallowed, and then turned onto her stomach.

"Is… is this your writing?" she asked, and she held her breath.

"…Bloody hell, we're _soulmates_."

"It is?"

"Yeah, it's my writing. Not much to go on. Christ, you got 'Hi' as your soulmark."

"I think I was rather short with you." She examined the back of his thigh, and her writing was there: 'Hello'. "Aren't we both horrible?"

"We were doing really well, actually," Hunter said, and he pressed her back down. "I haven't heard of an accidental bond like that, where the soulmates didn't know they were… well, soulmates. We might be the first."

"Lance?"

"Yes, Jemma?"

"Could we please get back to what we were doing?"

"Whatever you like, sweetheart."

"And you won't object to a bond?"

"…No. I won't object at all."

* * *

May was the first to notice their appearance the next morning. Later to breakfast than they were supposed to be, but only by a couple of minutes.

"No headaches?" she said.

"Nope," Jemma said. Hunter held her hand under the table.

"Not a one," he said.

"Sex really must be good for avoiding hangovers. Burning off all that alcohol."

Fitz choked on his water.

* * *

**Decided not to drag it on. Poor Fitz, though. Making characters choke on water is a reaction to all the times I've choked while trying to swallow soluble tablets. It's a cruel and unusual thing to happen to an innocent person.**

**Please review! This is one of a few chapters I've been working on, and become stuck partway through. Hopefully I'll be able to move on with the others soon.**


	66. I See Why (Maria x Rhodey)

"I See Why"

"Just because I'm in Human Resources doesn't mean I have to meet every single friend of the Avengers," Maria argued.

"Maria—"

"Pepper, I have other… commitments aside from my work at Stark Industries. You told me I wasn't a glorified paper-pusher—"

"And you've scared everyone… fine, _intimidated_ everyone into behaving, which is why you don't have to deal with as many problems as most HR bosses," Pepper said. Maria could hear her tapping the desk with a polished nail on the other end of the line. "Just meet with them. Please?"

"I've met the Avengers," Maria said. "Yes, I used to work for SHIELD, but I refuse to be roped into baby-sitting the Avengers and their associates, even by accident."

"It should've been Phil, but he…" Pepper trailed off. Maria swallowed back the impulse to blurt out the truth, and sighed through her nose as she rested her head on her hand.

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry, Pepper, but I have work to get through."

"Promise you'll say hello to them sometime. Okay?"

"I'll… see what I can do. But it may not be anytime soon."

"That's alright. Just don't leave it too long."

"Why not?"

But Pepper had hung up, leaving Maria without an answer about her strange request.

* * *

It took three dinner refusals for Tony Stark to show himself down to Human Resources personally, which sent everyone into a spin. Maria didn't know anything about it until he stalked into her office and glared at her.

"Aren't we good enough for you or something?" he said.

"I can't give you any more information than I already have."

"We don't want information! We want your company."

Maria arched an eyebrow. It was enough to make the billionaire take a step back, but he maintained eye contact.

"Why?" she asked.

"Clint and Natasha want to see you."

"No, they don't. They never did before. We were colleagues, not friends."

"Do you have any friends?"

Maria pointed to her door. "Out."

"You can't kick me out of your office."

"I was deputy director of SHIELD once upon a time, Mr. Stark. I can – and will – kick you out of my office physically if I need to."

"Rude," he said, flicking one of the pens in her pencil cup. "Come up for dinner sometime."

"Is that an order?"

"I could make it one."

"And I could just call Pepper."

"…That was mean."

"You're wasting my time, Mr. Stark. I have no interest in socialising with you or the rest of the Avengers."

"None of us? At all?"

"No."

"You… you haven't even met everyone yet."

"Do you have a better reason – a legitimate one, Mr. Stark – for me to spend the evening with my employers and their friends?"

"…To be sociable?"

"I have hobbies and I go to the gym. I meet people I like. I don't need to sit through an awkward meal with—"

"Or just come up and say 'hi'."

"Why, Mr. Stark?"

"…Uh…"

"If you can come up with a suitable answer," she said, "you know where to find me, and I'm sure you know how to make an appointment. You're lucky I didn't have someone with me, or I would've tased you."

"Always with the tasers," he muttered, walking out of the room.

* * *

One day, Maria caved, now more curious than she was annoyed about all the requests to see the Avengers and their friends. If they were trying to see her as a substitute Coulson… well, that'd be a hard one to handle. She couldn't tell them that he was alive until she had his say-so, but the longer she actively hid the lie from them the worse the falling out would be when the secret was revealed. It was part of the reason she didn't want to see the Avengers. She'd take loneliness over too much interaction with them, especially with Barton and Romanov. They were far more perceptive than Pepper Potts, and hell, maybe even the Hulk would smell the lies on her.

But they'd been bugging her for weeks now, so she showed up unannounced – JARVIS was a girl's best friend – hoping to catch them off-guard and find out why they were behaving so strangely.

"…off on some stupid mission—"

"It isn't a stupid mission, they're searching for Barnes—"

"And what if she shows—"

Romanov shushed them as Maria walked into the common area. They all glanced at each other, and her eyes narrowed.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Oh, hi, Hill," Barton said. With no enthusiasm. Where were the eager-to-see-her superheroes she'd been hearing so much about?

"I am pleased to see you again, Lady Maria," Thor said, half-bowing to her. She'd forgotten how loudly he spoke, although the way he said it made her think it was for the others' benefit, because Barton and Stark stood up straighter, and the rest of them became more animated.

"Nice to see you, too, Thor," she said.

"You have not met my Lady Jane, nor her friend, Lady Darcy."

"No, I haven't," she said, shaking the women's hands. "Pleased to meet you."

"Nice to meet you," Dr. Foster said.

"You're the badass Maria Hill they've told us about," Miss Lewis said, and she grinned. "I heard you threatened to tase Stark."

"It's a rite of passage," Maria said, and Miss Lewis laughed.

"I'll pass on that," she said. "He's lettin' me stay here, and JARVIS is the _best_."

"Is there anyone else I'm supposed to meet? I have groceries to pick up on the way home, and the traffic's going to turn nightmarish in about half an hour's time."

"Stay for drinks!" Stark said, making for his bar. "Pity you showed up tonight, because Rhodey's not here. He's with Wilson and Cap, off chasing down some story about… anyway—"

"The Winter Soldier," Maria said. Stark hesitated.

"Yeah."

"I've met them," she said. "Please tell me you haven't forgotten about the part I played in bringing down the Helicarriers?"

"Heh," Barton said, smirking. "I was bringing down Helicarriers before it was popular."

"Nothing to sound proud of, Barton."

"It is, in hindsight."

She rolled her eyes, but allowed herself to be dragged over to the table. Twelve minutes of awkward small-talk later, she stood up again.

"Well, this was a waste of my time," she said. "Though you've still got excellent taste in vodka, Romanov."

"Thank you."

"Aside from meeting you," she continued, nodding to Foster and Lewis, "I really haven't achieved anything here, so I'm going now. Good night."

"But you haven't met Rhodey yet, have you?" Stark said.

"I'm sure I'll meet the colonel one day," she said.

"Well, yeah, but still—"

"So just let Fate take its course."

"Fate?"

Something in his voice arrested her attention. But he stared at her with wide eyes, and she mentally strangled him.

"Anyone who's put up with you for so many years is well worth meeting," she said. "But not tonight. Have a nice evening, everyone."

She waved as she made for the elevator, now more confused than ever.

* * *

"Colonel Rhodes is here!" Maria's secretary hissed around the door.

"Why is War Machine here?" Maria asked.

"I thought he was using Iron Patriot?"

"I think he prefers War Machine. I hear that his password… never mind. Do you know what's brought him?"

"Tony Stark has brought him."

"Hell." Maria closed her eyes for a few seconds, gathering herself together. "Turn on the coffee machine for the addicts, grab the headache tablets from the medicine cabinet for everyone else, and keep it all on stand-by. If he comes to this section, I'll get him out of here as soon as possible."

"Actually…"

"What is it?"

Her secretary sighed. "Look, there are people in HR who have kids who are fans of Iron Patriot, so…?"

Maria nodded. "If the colonel is fine with autographs, it's fine with me."

"Thank you, Ms. Hill."

Maria returned to her work, hoping that Stark would have enough sense to stay away from her. She had an envelope opener with his name on it. No, really. It was a Stark Industries envelope opener. More personal than a taser. And it was easy to get blood out of carpet; just hard to explain to Pepper Potts.

"And here she is!" Stark said, barging his way into her office. Maria grabbed the letter opener and threw it right into the wall behind his head, nearly clipping his ear. His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped when he turned his head and saw how close the letter opener had come. His friend burst out laughing, and moved towards Maria with his hand out. She shook it.

"I'm Maria Hill," she said. He grinned widely.

"I've been waiting a long time for this moment, Maria," he said, and he kissed her hand. She nearly collapsed into her chair.

"Oh," she said. 'Surprised' would be an understatement. War Machine was her soulmate? Colonel James 'Rhodey' Rhodes was _her _soulmate?

"I hear the other guys have been bugging you to come up and meet the gang?" he said. "By the way, I'm James Rhodes, but everyone calls me Rhodey."

"I know, Colonel Rhodey. I mean, Rhodes. Uh…"

"Rhodey."

"Rhodey," she said, trying not to swallow her tongue. They were still holding hands, his large and warm around hers, which was cold from the air-conditioning. "Yes, they… Okay, I see why they were doing that now."

"Considering I've got your name in my soulmark, Tony and Pepper have been trying to find an excuse for us to meet," he said. "I guess you've been easing back into normal civilian life, being outta the spy game now."

"…Yes."

He frowned slightly, but continued. "Can I take you out to dinner? _Without_ the others around?" He glanced at Stark, who held up his hands in a surrender motion.

"That sounds nice," Maria said, squeezing his hand. "I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting… it's been so long."

"It's been a long time for me, too," he said. "Knowing your name didn't help. I joined the air force when it looked like the best way to find every Maria Hill that I could. But I guess your records as a SHIELD agent would've been hidden well."

"I'm sorry about that."

"Nah, letting Fate handle things was the only way to go. I've seen my share of Maria Hills, but you're the most gorgeous one I've seen."

It had been about a decade or so since Maria last blushed, but she recognised the sensation immediately.

"Thank you, colonel," she said. "You're very attractive, too."

"You don't compliment guys all that often, do you?"

"Most of my compliments are work-related," she admitted. "I'm out of practise with flirting, so…"

"That's okay," he said, looking her over slowly. She cleared her throat, the flush on her cheeks _definitely not helping_. "Practise on me all you want."

* * *

**I would. I'd be happy to practise on Rhodey. ;)**

**Please review! A shorter chapter, but I didn't feel like descending into a farce where they just kept missing each other. I'm better at punny comedy than physical comedy. Maria's busy, Tony's determined, and Rhodey is just the cutest.**


	67. Kiss Me Quick (JBxS, JSxSW, MMxJR)

**Note: this is non-canon post-S02E11, 'Aftershocks'. Fitz and Skye have kept mum about Skye's powers until now.**

"Kiss Me Quick"

Bucky stayed near the edge of the group, watching the argument taking place between the Avengers and Phil Coulson. He sidled over to Sam and Rhodey, neither of whom had ever met the director of SHIELD, and accepted a beer from them.

"If we didn't know `em personally, this'd be more entertaining," Rhodey said.

"You okay, Bucky?" Sam asked. He nodded. "I feel like we should step in."

It was something constructive to do. Bucky walked to the front of the group and addressed Coulson personally.

"What is the purpose of this call?" he said. It shut everyone else up.

"Look, I'm sending the last known co-ordinates of one of our agents," Coulson said. "To all of you. I don't know whether she's still there, or whether she was separated from her tracker, but we're still a couple of hours out and undermanned."

"You seem to have been handling everything by yourself just fine," Barton snarked. "So you want us to clean up your messes now?"

Bucky just nodded at the screen after he looked at his phone and saw the message, which had also been sent to him. Coulson nodded back.

"Barton, after the incident at Greenwich, my people and I were there cleaning up," he said. "Where were you, Thor? And Dr. Foster? Selvig? Miss Lewis?"

"We had fought mightily," Thor said. Bucky kept an ear on the conversation as he returned to Rhodey and Sam.

"New SHIELD has been fighting 'mightily'," Coulson said in a tight voice. "And we've somehow learned to clean up after ourselves when it's possible. Not that we make a huge mess to begin with…"

Meanwhile, Bucky was leading his two new friends out of the room.

"They are wasting time," he said.

"You think we should go find the agent ourselves?" Sam said.

"I can't fly, but you can, and I have super senses and seventy years of experience. If we make a head-start…"

"The sooner we find her, the better chance she has," Rhodey said. "Let's go, sergeant."

* * *

With Iron Patriot and the Falcon, it only took ten minutes of flying to reach the mystery agent's last known location. Rhodey set Bucky down on the ground and retracted his face plate.

"Should we call Coulson?" he said. Bucky tried, and then shook his head.

"The line is busy," he said.

"What's the betting he's still arguing with the Avengers?" Sam said.

"Message from someone," Bucky said, still looking at his phone. "It says 'Are you Bucky Barnes?'" He replied with 'Yes'.

"JARVIS is scanning the area," Rhodey said, the mask of the armour back in place.

"I'm gonna do a quick look around," Sam said, and he flew off. Bucky's phone began to ring; at least he could do something until they had more details.

"Barnes here," he said.

"Hello, Sergeant Barnes? I'm Dr. Jemma Simmons."

"Are you from SHIELD?"

"I'm on Director Coulson's team. Are you looking for Skye?"

"Skye?"

"Agent Skye."

"She's the one who's missing?"

"Yes, she is," the English woman replied. "Fitz noticed that you were trying to call the director, so we intercepted your number, recognising it from the list that Skye found yesterday."

"Can you tell me what happened?" he asked. "There are three of us here, but we don't know where to start looking."

The doctor sighed. "There is a HYDRA agent, Grant Ward. He was on our team before the fall of SHIELD, a spy all along. He's obsessed with Skye."

"Over this way," Rhodey whispered, leading Bucky west. He gestured for Sam, who flew down to hover above them.

"Does he have something to do with her disappearance?" Bucky said.

"If he does, he won't hurt her," Dr. Simmons said.

"Are they soulmates?"

"She hasn't met her soulmate yet, but they nearly… they were nearly in a relationship."

He put her on speaker and clipped the phone to his belt. "We can all hear you now."

"All of you?"

"James Rhodes at your service, ma'am," Rhodey said. "Sam, get down here!"

"This is Jemma Simmons," Bucky said as Sam dropped to the ground beside them. They stopped in their tracks. "We're looking for an Agent Skye, probably abducted by a man named Ward. Could you send us a picture of her, doc?"

"Absolutely, Sergeant Barnes."

"Cute accent," Sam said, grinning over Bucky's shoulder. "Love a good English woman." There was a nearly inaudible gasp from the phone, then a long pause.

"What about a bad one?" she asked.

Sam's eyes widened. "Wait, _what_?"

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry, this is why I don't flirt with people, because I'm horrible at it!"

"Did you seriously just find your soulmate?" Rhodey said. "Like _this_?"

"Apparently so," Sam said. "Sweetheart, we'll bring your Agent Skye right back to you personally."

"Thank you," she said, sounding shy now. "Um… have you found a-anything to suggest where Skye might be?"

"It's been pretty deserted around here," Rhodey said. "But scans show that there was a scuffle nearby. It's the most recent activity. No cameras, unfortunately."

"Near a forest," Sam said. "I'll fly around, see if any of the bushes have been disturbed. When did all this happen?"

"About an hour ago was the last time we heard from Skye. She was cut off mid-transmission. We tracked her last movements to your current location."

"She only had the one tracker?"

"Even with all of Skye's skills, there's too great a risk of HYDRA hacking the signal."

"What does the tracker look like?" Bucky asked as he examined the area on foot.

"It's in her watch. Fitz made it for her; we all have one."

The phone pinged again, and Bucky checked it while the call continued.

"You just sent the picture?" he said, to make sure.

"Yes."

"Mmm-hmm. Pretty girl."

"Yes, she is."

He stopped walking. "What does the watch look like?"

"…Oh no—"

"It might not be hers. Just give me a description."

"Uh… blue band, made of plastic, not leather…"

"Silver clock face with Roman numerals?"

"Y-yes."

"I'll get Rhodey to scan this."

"Oh, Skye…"

"Hang in there, Dr. Simmons. We'll find her. At least we know where she went missing from. Must be a real fighter, judging by the state of the ground."

"She is. Whether it's fighting for her life or for someone else's, she doesn't go down. Not even being shot… anyway—"

"Shot?"

"Simmons, can I have a w-word?"

Bucky frowned at the Scottish accent joining the conversation. He handed the watch to Rhodey.

"No, I'm busy, Fitz. Go away."

"Is it about Skye?"

"Yes, which is why—"

"Let me talk to them."

Sam landed beside Bucky. "No sign of any foliage having been disturbed," he reported.

"Uh, hello?"

"Who is this?" Bucky said.

"Erm, I'm Leo Fitz. One of Skye's friends. Do you have a way of tracking seismic activity? Y'know, earthquakes?"

"We do," Bucky said when Rhodey nodded, and closed his mask again.

"Skye… recently acquired certain… abilities."

"What?" Simmons said.

"She can cause vibrations. She's caused an earthquake before. If she's still alive and conscious, the stress might cause her to… to…"

"Make the ground shake?" Sam said.

"Y-yeah."

"When were you going to tell me this, Fitz?" Simmons said indignantly.

"If it became relevant. An' now it is."

Rhodey tapped Bucky on the shoulder. "Got something about four miles away. Only mild tremors, but it's close."

"In that direction?" He pointed south-west, and Rhodey nodded. It was away from the forest, and there were drag marks in the dirt as far as the road. "Let's go. Dr. Simmons? Uh, Fitz? Thanks for the help. We'll call when we've found her."

He hung up and tucked the phone back into his pocket, then held onto Rhodey. All three men took to the sky, Sam following on their heels. There hadn't been any notification from the Avengers, which was fine. Looked like they could handle this themselves without superhero egos taking up air space.

"The tremors have stopped," Rhodey said. "But I can pinpoint their epicentre. If she's being moved, they won't get far."

"You want me to go in first?" Bucky asked loudly. "Since I'm more compact?"

"And stronger? Be our guest."

* * *

Skye screamed behind her gag as something punched straight through the wall beside her. She craned her head, but she was at the wrong angle to see through the hole. She wriggled her feet, stretched far out in front of her.

"Aim further to the left!" someone called. Seconds later, bullets peppered the wall a couple of yards further away. Skye stared as the wall crumbled. A figure walked through the hole, then jogged over to kneel at her side. He tore apart the chain of the cuffs on her legs, and she growled. He looked up at her and _finally_ noticed the gag, which he removed gently. She saw the metal arm, and gulped.

"Please tell me the good guys sent you," she said hoarsely after he ripped apart her hand restraints.

He met her eyes, his own widening. Before she could ask what had him spooked, he cupped the back of her head and pulled her into a kiss. Damn it, did every guy think he had a right to kiss her without her say-so? Well, he'd made one fatal error: he'd freed her hands first. She shoved at his shoulders as hard as she could. He fell onto his ass, but damn, it'd been like trying to push a car. Her best bet was to run for it. She'd been tied up for too long, though, `cause as soon as she jumped to her feet she nearly had to sit down again.

"Whoa, steady there, miss," a guy said, catching hold of her arm. She'd probably fall over if she pushed him away. Wait. She recognised that armour. Feeling a little safer, she turned her glare on the guy who _had_ to be the Winter Soldier.

"Do you kiss every girl you rescue without her permission?" she asked. He shook his head, grinning up at her from the floor.

"Just my soulmate, doll," he said. She gasped. "You're a regular spitfire. I'm a lucky fella."

"You… soulmate…"

"First Sam, now you?" Iron Patriot said. "If I find my soulmate today, I'll pay for all three weddings."

"Let's get you outta here," her soulmate said, jumping to his feet. "Hi. James Barnes. Call me Bucky." He shook her hand, and she tried to catch up with what was going on.

"Skye," she said.

"We took the shortcut in. Wanna take it out, or would you prefer to go through the front door?"

"Skye?"

She groaned. "Ward. Tell me you have a gun? He took mine."

"He's the guy who kidnapped you?" Bucky said.

"Yeah. He can't accept that I don't want him anymore. And hey, I've got a soulmate."

"Lemme deal with him," Bucky said, scowling.

"I can take care of myself! He screwed us over; that makes it personal for me. Now gimme a gun."

He handed one over. "I'm coming with you."

"I'll head back to Sam and keep him outta trouble," Iron Patriot said. It really was him, wasn't it? "Hello, Skye. I'm Rhodey."

"Nice to meet you."

"Get going," Bucky said. "Come on, Skye."

"See you topside," Rhodey said. Then he went back the way they'd come, and Skye led Bucky to the door just as it was opening.

"Skye," Ward said, and he halted in place when he noticed Bucky. "What's going on? Is that… that's the Asset. Skye, step away from him."

"How about no, Ward? Seems shooting you four times didn't keep you down."

"Skye, I'm serious, he's dangerous—"

"And my soulmate."

"…Your what?"

"You heard her," Bucky said. His hand was on her lower back, warming the material and making Skye hyper-aware of how close they were. She cleared her throat as her cheeks heated up.

"Bucky is my soulmate," she said. "We're leaving, and you're not gonna stop us. I'm better than you, so I'm not gonna shoot to kill this time. But you pull another stunt like this again, or hurt _any_ of my friends? You're dead."

Ward stayed where he was as Skye and Bucky walked past him and up the stairs. It wasn't long until they were out in the light and Skye was being introduced to Sam Wilson.

"How d'you feel about flying?" he asked.

"Will it get me back to my team faster?"

"Yes, it will."

"Then let's go, my good man."

* * *

They met the plane in the sky. Sam placed Skye in the middle of the ramp and Bucky jumped down to land next to her. All four walked up, Sam's wings retracting into his backpack, and the hatch closed behind them. Coulson was waiting with the rest of the crew, minus the pilot.

"Skye!" Even that one word was familiar. Rhodey noticed Sam's eyes widen as Skye and another girl embraced. "Oh, I'm so glad you're alright."

"Hi, Jemma. I heard you and Fitz helped them find me?"

"Director Coulson was busy with the, uh… He was busy."

"Glad to have you back, Skye," Coulson said, squeezing her shoulder. He looked over towards the three men. "Thanks for bringing her back. I owe you."

"On the contrary," Rhodey said. "They owe you."

"Yeah." Skye said, scratching her arm. "Uh, Bucky… Sergeant Barnes is my soulmate."

Coulson's mouth opened and closed a few times, and then he smiled.

"You'll be safe then," he said. "Thank God."

"No one's gonna mess with the Winter Soldier's soulmate?"

"That's only part of it."

"You're Dr. Simmons?" Sam asked the woman with shorter hair. She bobbed her head.

"You must be Mr. Wilson," she said, her accent clear and quaint. The smile on Sam's face showed all his teeth.

"Call me Sam," he said, before hauling her into a kiss. She squeaked, but soon melted.

"They're soulmates as well," Rhodey explained to Coulson, who actually face-palmed.

"Okay, so, do you know who your soulmate is, Colonel Rhodes?" he asked.

"Not yet."

"The day is still young. Please, search the bus. Start with May; she's in the cockpit. I have to make a call. Describe how useless a certain superhero group is when it comes to rescuing a single SHIELD agent."

Rhodey grinned as he followed Coulson's flippant advice, and made his way to the front of the plane. (Who called a plane a 'bus'? Someone with a fondness for understatement, clearly.) He knocked at the door, and entered without waiting for an invite. A gorgeous Asian woman looked up at him, arching an eyebrow.

"You'd better have a damn good reason for being in here," she said.

Rhodey blinked. Sat in the co-pilot's seat. Then burst out laughing until he had to lean against the dashboard. Wait until the other guys heard about this.

"Damn, girl, your boss is omniscient," he said.

"…What. The hell?"

"Looks like I'm paying for three weddings after all," he mused, sitting back. He looked at his soulmate – she was seriously supposed to be older than him? – and grinned at her look of complete disbelief. "Agent Skye's soulmate is Bucky Barnes, Dr. Simmons's soulmate is Sam Wilson, and I'm yours. What's your name, sweetheart? Is it May?"

"Melinda May," she said, staring at him. "Agent… I'm Agent May."

"Colonel James Rhodes, but you can call me Rhodey. Can I call you Melinda? Pretty name." He looked her up and down. "Even prettier woman."

"Uh…" She looked flustered.

"Got an autopilot setting?"

"Y-yes." Melinda coughed. "Yes, there's autopilot."

"Good. `Cause if we've got the time, I'd like to get to know you, and much as I appreciate your profile, I like your front even more."

She exhaled, and put the plane on autopilot. Then she turned to face him properly.

"Ask away," she said.

"Ladies first," he insisted. "Anything you wanna know."

Slowly, she smirked, and he wondered what he'd gotten himself into.

He was gonna enjoy finding out.

* * *

Skye and Bucky were sitting on opposite ends of her bed. It was the most private place for them to talk, and talk they did. For over an hour, about their respective experiences, how they both felt the need to earn their soulmate after all the damage they'd caused.

"I guess we're kind of equal," Skye said, smiling from where her chin rested on her bent knees. Bucky shook his head.

"I have far more red in my ledger," he said.

"You've also had a much worse life. It's gotta all balance out by now. Soulmates are made to complement each other, and Fate also dictates when we'll meet. Now we have."

"Now we have," he echoed, holding out his flesh-and-blood hand, and she caught it, held on tight.

"Not gonna run out on me, are you?" she said. "My only real family is SHIELD. If I make you part of it, you won't leave, will you?"

"Not if I can help it, doll."

"Good." She entwined their fingers. "Like card games? I've got a pack somewhere."

"Strip poker?"

She narrowed her eyes. "_No_."

"Worth a shot."

"Bucky… what happens after this?" she asked. "You have to go back to your friends."

"So does Sam," he said. "It's either that or we stay here. Or you go with us."

"I can't leave Coulson. I can't… I can't leave any of them."

"Then I'll get my stuff and come back here. Looks like you need more people, and I know enough about HYDRA. I'll be a real asset this time, not just the assassin kind."

"Hmm." She smiled, tilting her head, her gaze straying down his body. "I can see why people would give you jobs with 'ass' in the name. It's a damn fine one."

Bucky's jaw dropped.

* * *

**Couldn't go past that as a last line. Three word reaction to Skye blatantly ogling his rear end, or at least trying to.**

**Bucky/Skye was requested by kogouma and magickgirl786. Rhodey/anyone was also requested by kogouma. All three ships in this chapter have been represented in ozhawk's superbly renamed 'Soulmate Shorts AKA The Crackship Armada'.**

**Please review!**


	68. Moments to Remember (Logan x Phil)

**Note: I had so much fun looking up slang of the 70s and 80s to use in the first scene.**

"Moments to Remember"

_1985_

"You nerd," Nick Fury said, clinking his glass with Phil's. "A SHIELD agent, and you wanted to see _Back to the Future_ for your twenty-first birthday."

"It was _awesome_," Phil Coulson, the birthday boy, said.

"It was embarrassing for me to sit with you."

"I thought it was _hilarious_," John Garrett said, sitting beside Phil. "It was like being at a live show. Remind me to take you to a pantomime, you dweeb."

"I'm twenty-one now," Phil sang.

"And I'm taking you to more bars. You're a damn lightweight."

"Not drunk, just happy." Fury rolled his eyes. "Chill, Nick."

"You were worse than any of the kids there," he reminded Phil.

"It's already a major hit. One day, you're gonna look back and say, 'Yep, I saw it at the movies in the first week'."

"Can we get the kid another drink?" John asked the bartender. "It's his twenty-first today."

"Hell, why didn't you say so?" the guy said. "It's on the house."

Phil grinned behind the rim of the glass. "Thanks."

"Are you stoked about being legal?"

"Best part is that I can drink with my friends now," Phil said.

"Aw, you dork." John elbowed him. "Now go find some nice – or not so nice – gal to lose your cherry to." Phil nearly inhaled his beer. "Or guy, if you want. Just be careful."

"You trying to kill me, Garrett?"

"Trying to get you to do the nasty with someone. At your age I'd al—"

"Some people are waiting for their soulmates," Phil said, now warier of drinking. He never knew what was gonna come out of John Garrett's mouth.

"So what're your plans for tomorrow?" Fury said. "Since you've got the day off in case of a hangover."

"I won't get a hangover. We're having fries; it'll soak up the alcohol." As if to illustrate the point, he swallowed more of his drink before taking a handful of fries and shoving a few into his mouth at a time.

He decided on two drinks as his limit, despite the barman's offer of more. Then he wandered off to the bathroom, still able to walk in a straight line. He noticed a guy with sideburns and tufty hair in a dark corner by the bathroom doors, smoking something and watching the crowds, a glass of some dark liquid in his other hand. He met Phil's eyes and his eyebrows drew together. Unnerved, Phil hurried into the bathroom to relieve himself. After washing and drying his hands, he went back out, and tried to avoid the stranger's gaze. But he became trapped there, and swallowed as the man stood up and approached him.

"No need to look so nervous," he said.

Phil was glad he didn't have anything breakable in his hands.

"Buy me a birthday drink?" he asked. The man's grin grew.

"Think I'd rather take you somewhere private," he said, running a rough-nailed finger up Phil's bare arm.

"Really? I mean, yeah. Maybe you could show me your soulmark?"

"I've been waitin' a long time for you."

"Twenty-one years exactly."

"Happy birthday. And… it feels longer than that." Phil watched him stub out the cigar and drain the rest of whatever his drink was. "Ever had bourbon?"

"No."

"You will one day. Come back to my place?"

Phil nodded. "I've gotta tell my friends."

"I'll be right behind you."

* * *

The man – his name was Logan, it turned out – took Phil to a motel. It looked kinda rundown on the outside, but the room was comfortable and clean, and unopened lube and condoms were provided. He'd meant to talk to his soulmate first, find out more about him, but Logan insisted on making sure their writing matched. He took one look at the words scribbled just below the crook of Phil's knee on the back of his right leg, and then he pounced, shoving Phil onto the bed and devouring his mouth like their lives depended on it. Clothes were torn off (in the case of Phil's shirt, literally), and it was while Logan was scrabbling in the nightstand that Phil thought to ask about his soulmark. In answer, Logan stripped off his jeans – no underwear for him – and showed Phil his left butt cheek.

"Oh," Phil said, blushing furiously.

"We don't have t' bond tonight," Logan said. "But my, my, I'm gonna enjoy it when we do."

Phil could only make pathetic whimpering noises as he was stripped the rest of the way and then fingered open. He clutched Logan's shoulders, deciding that conversation could definitely wait until later. Or the morning. He ran his hands over a highly muscled chest, fingers twirling through thick hairs, and marvelled at his good fortune.

"You're gorgeous," he said, shaking his head. "_Damn_, I must've done something good in a past life."

"I prefer lookin' t'wards the future," Logan said.

"Future. Yeah. Like you being inside me. That's a pretty good future."

"Better make sure your prediction comes true," the man said with a feral grin. Then he slid inside, and Phil shuddered, his head dropping back.

"Slowly," he said. "I wanna savour this."

"Your first time?"

"Yeah. Waited for you."

"Fuck, I like the sound-a that."

Phil keened as Logan moved faster, like a piston, thrusting so deep he could almost taste it and making him come before he could even think of touching himself. He hooked his leg around Logan's waist, desperate to keep him inside even as his raw nerves ached.

"Can we bond?" he begged. "I know we shouldn't, but—"

"Not losing you," Logan said. "Won't let anyone take you away. Yeah, go ahead, Phil. Bond with me."

Phil moved his leg down until the marks aligned. The breath left his lungs as an invisible tether formed between them, moving through their bodies from wherever they touched and outwards, until it surrounded them. He found Logan's mouth and kissed him, pulled him deeper with his leg, and trembled as he hit another climax in tandem with Logan jerking into him and finishing. The soulbond objected to that one barrier, but with the fears of HIV, they couldn't risk it.

The kiss slowed as the bond settled, warm and safe. Neither could bring themselves to part, and stayed where they were until the warmth faded, and the cool of the room began to freeze the perspiration on their bodies. Logan pulled out and rolled to the side, and Phil gathered enough energy to curl up, throwing an arm over his soulmate's torso.

"Wow," he said. "Hell of a first time."

"It'll only get better," Logan said. "`F we bond every time…"

"I don't know whether my body could handle it. I almost passed out at least twice."

Logan smirked. "Next time you won't make it seven minutes before you black out."

"Guarantee?"

"Ask me in half an hour, when you wake up."

"Time for a cat nap?"

"Time for conversation, then round two."

* * *

Phil had to leave in the morning, his unsteady legs grateful for Logan's motorbike, although the vibrations were hell. He had no regrets, though, and words weren't necessary as a conversation of feelings told them everything they needed to know. The bond hummed beneath Phil's skin as he kissed his soulmate goodbye, promising to call him as soon as work permitted.

In the two weeks that followed, they met as often as they could, and ten of the nights they spent together in bed, reaffirming the bond. Neither had an apartment, Logan a constant traveller and Phil living on base while he trained, so motels it was.

Fury and Garrett both kept his secret, although Phil had to submit a form with his soulmate's details. Nick had been on the phone when Phil went to them, but John promised to tell him that Phil was with his soulmate, and since Nick hadn't mentioned it, Phil hadn't, either.

Then two days later, while they were on a date, disaster struck in the form of knock-out darts. Phil struggled to remain conscious, but it was a losing battle, and the last thing he saw was Logan reaching out for him.

He woke, confused and surrounded by white and beeping. He looked to the side, and saw someone familiar in a chair by his bed. Hospital. And who was…?

"Nice to see you awake," the man said, his voice deep. "Do you remember your name?"

"Uh… it's…" He squinted. "Phil?"

"That's right. Do you know my name?" He shook his head. "Do you recognise me?"

"I've… seen you before."

"Know what year it is?" Again, he shook his head, and the stranger sighed. "My name is Nicholas Fury. We both work for an organisation called SHIELD. You were kidnapped three days ago, and you've suffered head trauma, which apparently includes amnesia. We're going to help you get back as much of your memory as you can."

"All of it?"

"Probably not, not if your memory's been wiped. If this is just temporary, you should be fine."

"O-okay. Um… how old am I?"

"You're twenty-one as of two and a half weeks ago."

"Have I found my soulmate?"

"Not as far as I know."

"Oh." Phil's heart sank. He felt so cold. "Well… how do we get my memory back?"

* * *

_2014_

"Let me die, please, let me die," Phil said as someone helped him out of the machine. It was Skye, he thought, but why was she there? "Let me…"

"Come on, AC, let's get you home," she said. Phil shook his head violently, and the dizziness made him feel sick. "Don't do that!"

"It hurts…"

"Yeah, so just keep still."

He leaned back against the machine, and something else, something which had been kept hidden, wormed its way past a torturous surgery and to the forefront of his mind. He gasped.

"Oh no," he whispered. "_Logan_."

* * *

_2015_

Wolverine was still working with Professor X on getting his memories back, but superhero smack-downs waited for no man, and it became every mutant against the goddamn US army.

It was Stark's fault – wasn't it always? – because some asshole named General Ross had gone after Bruce Banner. At the threat to his soulmate, Stark had declared war on the military, and broken out a hidden cache of Iron Man suits. There weren't all that many compared to the defence force, but Tony Stark was pissed, and so were the rest of the Avengers when they found out why he'd lost his mind. The Fantastic Four had declared themselves against the army in support of Banner. When the anti-super and anti-mutant crowds joined the army's side, Magneto led his team into the fray. Which meant that Charles wanted to go there and try to brook peace.

Ha. Good luck with that. But Logan went along with him as a bodyguard.

"You seriously think this'll work?" he asked Xavier.

"It must, Logan."

"Ready to crash all the TV screens in America," Kitty said.

"Good girl, pun'kin."

"Fire it up, Katherine."

Logan kept the camera aimed at the professor, sitting poised and elegant as always, and gave him the thumbs-up when the recording light switched on.

"Dear friends," Charles began, and Logan rolled his eyes.

* * *

"Whose genius idea was it to force every damn screen to be broadcast with a bald dude?" Skye said, typing away on her laptop. "I can't get anything done!"

"Our priority is making sure that citizens remain safe," Phil said.

"He's spouting some kind of 'Why can't we all get along?' garbage," she said, turning up the speakers so that they could all hear the 'inspirational' speech.

"We get that, Skye, but—"

"This has been going on for two days, DC. I think everyone's gotten the message to stay indoors."

"There are still your vigilante and bravado types," Phil said.

"Yeah, and if there's a fire in a building they can't _not_ evacuate!"

"Right now, we're just another law enforcement agency responsible for making sure that criminals don't take advantage of this major distraction to loot stores and homes. Back in World War Two, looters were executed by hanging. I wish they still did that. Absolute scum. Like blackmailers."

"Well, lucky for us, we can beat the shit outta them," Skye said. She groaned in frustration. "If we could _find_ the assholes!"

"Still can't hack it?" Phil said. Skye gave him an unimpressed look.

"…not working," came from the laptop. "Professor, I think this is just making it worse. No one's paying attention."

"Perhaps you should try, Katherine?" the professor said.

"Load-a bullshit, if you ask me," someone growled, presumably the cameraman.

Phil froze. He knew that voice.

"Find it," he told Skye. "Trace the signal."

"I can't," she said, waving her hands.

"Do you recognise the background?"

"No. It's pretty generic."

"They don't want to be found, I imagine," Simmons said.

"Maybe we should just make a big EMP to knock out all of the weapons being used," Fitz suggested.

"Won't that knock out all the electronics?" Phil said.

"It might."

"Some of that fighting is taking place near _hospitals_. We can't risk it."

"Maybe a non-flammable gas which will knock out everyone down there?" Simmons said.

"Do we have the equipment and chemicals for that?"

"No, but if we can get to a hospital or a lab or even Stark Tower—"

"Too dangerous to be anywhere near Stark Tower. I know where we can go. Come on. And, Skye?"

"Transmission's been stopped, so I'm already tracing the source," she said.

"Text me the co-ordinates when you're done."

* * *

Once FitzSimmons were settled in a learning hospital's lab, Phil followed Skye's directions to a motel. It was familiar, and he understood why. Was there some significance that his soulmate was staying in the very motel where he'd taken Phil's virginity and bonded with him so spectacularly?

He ran inside, the staff no longer bothered by surprise arrivals, and apparently beyond caring about secrecy as they gave him the room number. He fidgeted in the elevator, and burst out of the doors and along the corridor, before hammering on the door.

"What?" someone snarled, yanking the door open. Phil stared at him, his chest heaving.

"Logan," he said.

"Who are you?"

Phil swallowed. "So they took your memory that day, as well?"

"You know him?" the man in the wheelchair said. A professor, wasn't he? "I am Professor Charles Xavier. What brings you here, Agent Coulson?"

Phil met Logan's eyes. "My soulmate."

"Me?" Logan said. Phil nodded. "When did we meet?"

"About thirty years ago. My twenty-first birthday. We bonded, but then I was kidnapped, and they must have taken you as well. I only remembered you last year… and God, I'm so sorry."

"Rebuilding SHIELD has kept you busy, no doubt," Xavier said.

"How did you…? You know what? I don't care. Right now I'm more concerned about my soulmate's memory."

"Shouldn't you be concerned about what is happening out there?" he said, gesturing to the window. Phil shook his head.

"I've got people working on something to knock out everyone who's outside," he said. "It should last long enough to confiscate weapons. The time for pretty speeches has ended."

"I told him that," Logan grumbled. "Coulson, is it?"

"Phil Coulson, yes."

"C'mere."

"What…?"

Logan tugged him into a kiss. Phil certainly didn't object to that, and wrapped his arms around his soulmate's neck. It felt like the bond had been long broken, but surely it could be re-established? Selfish of him to want it, especially when…

He pulled his head back, and murmured, "How have you not aged?"

"I haven't aged since the nineteenth century."

"…Uh—"

"Maybe if we bond, I'll start to remember."

Phil's eyes probably glazed over. "I'm down with that."

"Later, perhaps," Xavier said. Phil noticed that the young woman in the room with them was pink-cheeked and looking away. "Meanwhile, there is a much more pressing matter."

As if on cue, at least two bombs exploded in the distance. Phil grew nervous for his team's safety.

"I have to check in with my people," he said. "We'll need a lot of gas masks if this works."

"Can I get your number?" Logan asked.

"I think you'd better. I can't risk losing you again." Phil grimaced briefly. "I _won't_ lose you again."

Logan stroked his cheek. "I'll make sure of it."

* * *

**I've been planning to write this for awhile, and then gosuckonalemon requested the pairing and I knew the time had come to write it. Wasn't planning to include the actual bonding scene in this, but then it happened, and the story's already rated for smut, so… yeah.**

**The implication is that Garrett never told Fury that Phil had met his soulmate, and that HYDRA arranged to wipe Phil's memory of Logan, and vice versa. Phil's clearance wouldn't have been high enough for him to access the asset register, but someone from SHIELD was bound to recognise Wolverine, and wouldn't want him to be on Phil's side, so they removed the problem. Then Raina's memory machine reversed that for Phil.**

**Please review!**


	69. Walking Mirror (Mystique x Skye)

**Note: I haven't seen episode… what is it, 16? Not yet. I'll probably do that today, and I highly doubt this will be sticking to canon. Basically, it's set sometime after the previous episode.**

"Walking Mirror"

Skye was meditating on her bed when she felt a tremble through the ground. Now that she concentrated on it, she could feel the vibrations in everything. She went to her door, opening it just as Gordon appeared in front of her. She'd never get used to that, and jumped back with a yelp.

"There's a raid," he said. "I'm moving everyone out."

"Where to?" Skye asked, grabbing her jacket.

"Various places. I'll be back for you in a minute. Get your things packed."

Then he disappeared again. Skye raced to shove everything she'd accumulated into a carry bag, and was ready by the time Gordon returned. He slid an arm around her waist, and teleported her to the middle of a forest. She looked around, surprised by the amount of light bathing the area. She could barely see the moon and stars through the trees.

"Erik?" Gordon called, looking around. Skye looked as well.

"Where are we?" she said.

"I'm leaving you with friends of mine. Have you heard of mutants?"

"I think Jemma told me about them. They have the x-gene?"

"That's right. Erik Lehnsherr is here. He is the leader of the Brotherhood. He goes by the name Magneto."

"Speak of the devil," a deep voice said. Skye whirled around; Gordon turned more slowly.

"Erik," he said. Skye stared at the man with the cape and the helmet and the penetrating gaze. He looked her over.

"Is she an X, Gordon?" he asked.

"No, but that's no reason to turn her away," Gordon said. "She has powers."

"From one of your Diviners?"

"Yes."

He held out his hand to Skye. "Magneto. What is your name?"

"Skye," she said, and she shrugged. "Just Skye."

"What is your… ability?"

Skye concentrated, and the ground began to shake. Magneto's eyes widened, and there were shouts from nearby. Skye halted it, and smiled. He smiled in return.

"Welcome to the Brotherhood," he said. "You may not be a mutant, but you are welcome here."

"Thanks," she said, letting go of his hand.

"I will inform you when it is safe to return," Gordon said, touching her shoulder. "Take care of yourself, Skye."

"Thanks, Gordon."

He nodded, and then left. Magneto led Skye to the rest of the camp. People had emerged from various fancy huts in their pyjamas.

"We have a guest," he announced. Skye nodded at the others, and gave a little wave. "Her name is Skye."

"Is she the chick who made the ground move?" a blond guy asked.

"Yes, Pyro."

"Pyro?" Skye said. "Lemme guess. Fire power?" Magneto smiled. "What about you?"

"I can move metal."

"Huh. I guess that'd be pretty useful, since there's metal in so many things these days."

"You may be the youngest here," Magneto said, leading her further into the campsite.

"Hey, I'm older than I look!"

"So are we all, my dear. Do you have another name?"

"A couple of `em, but not ones I use. And I know what you mean." She shrugged. "No cool superhero codename or whatever for me."

"We shall have to think of something appropriate," he said.

Skye nearly screamed when an exact copy of her, right down to her clothes, walked up to them.

"This is Mystique," Magneto said. Skye could hear the humour in his voice, and raised her eyebrows.

"So are you a walking mirror or something?" she asked Mystique. The woman – was it a woman? – tensed, and then her Skye form melted away to reveal blue skin, red hair, and yellow eyes. Skye gaped. She'd never seen anything like her before.

"At least I'm not cradle-robbing, thank God," Mystique replied. Skye dropped her bag in shock.

"Holy shit!" she said. "I… seriously had given up on finding my soulmate. But… hey, you're here! And I don't have to hide who I am!" She grinned. "Wow, that's a relief."

"I don't have to hide who I am here," Mystique said, linking her hands together in front of her. "Unless you want me to?"

"What?" Skye said, surprised. "Why would I want you to do that?"

Mystique almost looked lost as she glanced at Magneto, her eyebrows drawing together. He chuckled.

"I told you that your soulmate would accept you for who you are, Raven," he said. "You mustn't fret so."

"You thought… I'd reject you?" Skye said. Mystique lowered her gaze. "Oh, no. No, I wouldn't do that. I'm just… you're naked. You walk around naked? Aren't you cold?"

"If I want clothes, I look like someone else," Mystique – Raven? – said. "I can't put anything on this form."

"Huh." Skye looked her over again. "I guess that's more convenient." Then she realised what she said, and clapped a hand over her mouth. "Shit. I'm sorry. That sounded… I didn't mean to…"

Mystique laughed softly. "This isn't a conversation to have in front of the others."

Skye looked around, her cheeks aflame, and shook her head. "No, it really isn't. I'm so sorry."

"Grab your bag and come with me, honey." She held out a hand. "You must be tired."

"Bed-time was supposed to be in half an hour, so yeah, I am pretty whacked."

"Would you like to stay with me?"

Skye nodded shyly, and looked at Magneto. "Thanks for having me here. Can I meet everyone else tomorrow?"

"Of course. Sweet dreams, Skye."

"I'll try," she muttered, picking up her bag. She took Mystique's hand and allowed herself to be led away and into one of the hut-cabin-things. It reminded Skye of where she was staying before Gordon had to rescue her.

"The bed is large enough," Mystique said. "Or I could sleep elsewhere?"

"No, don't," Skye said, putting her bag down and then grabbing her soulmate's hands.

"I don't mind—"

"What do you want me to call you?"

She looked startled. "Um… you can call me whatever you like."

"Raven? Is that your name?"

"Yes."

"Can I…?"

"Please do. Not many people use it, so… I'd like you to."

Skye smiled, and leaned forward to nuzzle Mystique's nose. It was smoother and warmer than she'd expected.

"Where's your mark?" she asked. Mystique turned in place and showed her the words on her lower back, in Skye's messy handwriting. (Years of mostly typing had caused that.)

"What about yours?" she said.

Skye pulled off her jacket and shirt, and pressed up against Mystique's back. There was a slight jolt where their marks brushed against each other, and as neither of them were ready to bond yet nothing else happened. But Mystique dragged Skye's arms around her front and held them there, tangling their fingers together.

"I'm older than I look," she admitted.

"So Magneto said. That doesn't matter to me, Raven, you have to know that."

"For years…" Mystique's voice sounded thick. "I thought my soulmate wouldn't want me in my natural form."

"Does the soulmark transfer when you wear other people's… skin?"

She shook her head. "The only thing that seemed possible was a platonic…"

"It doesn't have to be that," Skye said. "I'm good for anything. Guys have let me down in the past. I'm through with them. I just want my soulmate." She kissed Mystique's shoulder. "I have the most screwed up history, and now I can shatter glass and cause earthquakes if I lose control of my emotions. Gordon's been trying to help me, but I'm still terrified of hurting anyone, and I thought my soulmate would prefer to keep things platonic, too."

"I can't bond with you," Mystique said, and Skye's heart fell. "Not yet. I don't want you to think you've made a mistake if we move too quickly."

"Fate wouldn't let that happen," Skye said. "But I'm honestly too tired to think about that kind of thing anyway. Except my horrible Freudian slips. Ugh." Mystique laughed again as Skye buried her face in a blue neck. "I'm nearly as bad as Fitz." She sighed. "Is there any way I can contact my team? I need to let them know I'm okay."

"Yes, but you're tired." Mystique turned around again, and Skye had to move her hands quickly so she didn't accidentally brush any inappropriate places. Mystique's look of amusement showed that she knew exactly what Skye was avoiding. "Get into bed."

"I have pyjamas…"

"I'll wait."

"…Okay."

* * *

_Five days later_

Skye stuck a finger in her right ear, phone pressed to her left.

"Reception isn't the greatest out here!" she said loudly. "Can you repeat that, Fitz?"

"…find you… Hunter's back… the Avengers… where that is?"

She decided not to beat her head against the wall; it probably wasn't responsible for the bad reception. Stupid campsite being in the middle of the woods. She heard Mystique snickering behind her, and poked her tongue out at her soulmate.

"Look, tell Coulson I've—"

"…guy named Gordon… with Raina… your dad…"

"W-what about him?" Skye said, her heart beginning to race. "You've seen him? Did you say you've seen my dad?"

"…lab… school for mutants… know who… with?"

"Fitz, damnit, I'm only hearing every other word!"

"Magneto usually improves the reception, but he's gone for supplies," Mystique said.

"Can you call back?" Skye asked, almost shouting by now. The Scottish brogue didn't really help.

"HYDRA… trace on… hurry… coming for—"

Then the line was cut. Skye growled in frustration, set the phone back down, and crossed her arms as worry began to take over again. This was the first time she'd been able to get in contact with her team. A warm blue hand landed on her shoulder.

"Don't worry about them."

"I can't help it, Raven. They're my family, the only family I've ever had. Bad things keep happening, and I'm not there to help them. Don't…" She turned to meet her soulmate's sunflower gaze. "Don't get me wrong. I'm so grateful to be here with you."

"But that doesn't stop you from worrying."

"No, it doesn't."

"Do you know where they are?"

"May told me to run because SHIELD was after me. _We're_ SHIELD! So who else is using that name? Is there another one? Has the Playground been compromised? Gordon couldn't tell me. Another person in our team betrayed us, and I'm so _sick_ of that!"

"Hey." Mystique pulled Skye into her arms. "You're safe here."

"Is there even a SHIELD anymore? Has it fallen again? Or is there more than one, or two? How many are out there? I just…" She sighed, trying not to cry. "I just wanna know what's happening."

"We'll find out. Magneto won't be long."

"But what if I can't get in touch with them again? The call was cut off. What if—"

Mystique kissed her. Skye relaxed, or tried to. She was still getting used to being kissed by a woman. Curves were so different. Not in a bad way, just… different. And it was nice to be kissing someone on her side. Her _soulmate_.

"Now enough worrying," Mystique murmured against her lips. "Come have lunch with us. The phone will still be here. When Magneto gets back, he can help you."

"My father's still out there. If my team's seen him… he's after Coulson, obsessed with killing him."

"You're one of us now," Pyro said as Mystique pushed Skye down onto one of the benches in the middle of the campsite. "No one gets to you except through us."

That made Skye want to cry. She knew that this group of mutants hated humans; and while Skye wasn't strictly human, she wasn't a mutant, either. But they'd accepted her into their fold easily. Mystique handed her a bowl of minestrone.

"Eat up," she said. "It'll give you something to do."

Skye nodded, and tucked in.

When Magneto arrived, it was just in time for the last bowl of soup. Skye was trying to be patient, but worry made her fidget in place.

"I can control the wires while I eat, you know," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Call your team."

"Thank you!" she exclaimed, and she ran into the base hut. She dialled the last number, and was almost sick with nerves by the time Fitz finally answered.

"I don't know what happened there," he said.

"How is everyone?" Skye said. "Where are you? Did you say you'd seen Cal? What about Gordon? Is there another SHIELD? Why couldn't I get hold of you for nearly a week?"

"Calm down, Skye!"

"And you said something about mutants and a school," she said. "HYDRA as well? A trace? Did you say they were coming for me? Because I'm not alone, and I'm not putting these people in danger, especially not with my soulmate among them!"

"Your soul…? Listen, Skye. Give us your location so we can find you."

"I don't know our location, Fitz. Gordon zapped us straight here."

"He told us you were safe, but… well… didn't know whether to trust him…"

"I am," she said. "I'm with my soulmate. She's gorgeous, wait `til you see her."

"A lot's happened since we last saw you," he said.

"Sounds like."

"Your dad found a bunch of people on the asset register, and he traced them to a school. HYDRA put a tracker on him, somehow, and there was this huge fight. Only a few casualties on HYDRA's side, and none on the other's."

"Oh my God…"

"The man in charge is named Charles Xavier."

Skye frowned. "I recognise that name."

"It's a school for mutants. Your dad didn't get in, but he did take a shot at Coulson."

"Is he okay?"

"Fine, only a graze, an' Simmons was there. But if you can get here, it'd be great. Especially if you can avoid running into any other mutants. There are others out there, including a group led by a man named Magneto." Skye froze. "One of the HYDRA agents who got away said they'd try to recruit him next. If that happens, we'll be in big trouble." She was silent. "Skye?"

"Sorry, bad reception again," she said, and she hung up. Pulling herself together, she stepped back outside, and walked over to her new friends.

"Did you get through to them?" Mystique asked, holding out her hand. Skye took it, lacing their fingers together, and nodded.

"There was a HYDRA attack," she said. "Against a school run by Charles Xavier. Why do I know that name?"

They all looked at each other. Magneto cleared his throat.

"Acquaintances of ours," he said. "Was anyone hurt in this attack?"

"Only people working for HYDRA. Fitz said they'll approach you next."

"Let them," Magneto said, steel entering his voice. "I will relish turning them inside out."

"Nazis killed his family," Mystique whispered.

"Oh," Skye said. There wasn't really anything she could say to that. "Um, my team wants to know where I am, but…"

"Will you tell them?"

"I can't. Not… not yet. They're my team, I'll have to sometime, but not until it's safe. For all of us."

"You have us in the meantime," she said, squeezing Skye's hand. She squeezed back.

"I'll always have you, I hope," she said. Mystique smiled.

"I hope so, too."

* * *

**I honestly have no idea where to go from there. I was going to have Skye agreeing with Magneto's ideals, and SHIELD on the X-Men's side, leading to smeg tons of angst, and then decided that I couldn't put myself through the emotional ringer like that. Not at the moment. So… you got a weird ending. Again. Hmm.**

**Please review!**


	70. Not Every Ending is Happy (Hand x Irene)

**Note: Author is sorry for shorter, sadder chapter.**

"Not Every Ending is Happy"

Irene had put her foot down, in no uncertain terms, when Sherlock 'The Virgin' Holmes suggested that she dye her hair blonde, or wear a wig. Seeing that he was getting nowhere, he instead recommended streaks. Pulled back in her usual hairstyle, it didn't look too bad, she could admit. Only the occasional line of blonde hairs. Certainly not as wild as it would have looked down.

Although unusual colouring would be more likely to draw attention, he'd pointed out that she already managed that with her presence. Oh, he was learning. Perhaps he could put it towards that 'not-gay' doctor soulmate of his? They weren't fooling anyone, only each other.

One of the Ice Man's contacts had organised someone to meet Irene at the Jinna International Airport in Karachi. They had arranged a new identity for her, and she had a good idea what part of that name might be. Perhaps finally…

Sharp eyes on the lookout, she saw a woman in heels striding along, her hair down and glasses on her face. Irene coughed discreetly, and the woman slowed, meeting her eyes. She walked over, looked Irene up and down, and held out her hand.

"I presume you're Ms. Pulver?" she said, looking Irene right in the eyes.

Now wasn't the time for significant looks. Now was the time for action.

"I take it that's my new name, my lovely?" she asked, looking the woman head to toe and then back again. The woman's eyes widened, and her smile turned genuine.

"Your papers are here, Ms. Pulver," she said, pulling an envelope from an inner pocket. Irene noticed the handle of a gun.

"Please, call me by my first name," she murmured.

"Very well, Lara." Well, it wasn't too bad, as aliases went.

"How convenient that I'd already written the name 'Pulver' on all my luggage tags," Irene said.

"With that kind of soulmark, it was a pretty good bet."

"Won't you tell me your name?"

"Victoria Hand."

"How delightful," Irene said, smirking. "All the terrible puns I can make."

She rolled her eyes. "Good luck finding one I haven't heard before."

Irene followed her soulmate through the airport. "Where are we going?"

"Private plane. Come with me."

"Later, when we're alone. Unless voyeurism turns you on. What would you like me to call you, sweetheart?"

"You can call me Victoria," she replied, her cheeks suspiciously pink. "Never 'Vic'. I hate that."

"Victoria. The grandmother of our queen."

"She certainly was." Irene followed her soulmate across the tarmac to the small aeroplane waiting for them. She missed the next words due to a particularly loud roar from the engines.

"I didn't hear that," she said, walking up the ramp beside Victoria.

"Would you like to have a drink with me?"

It was a bit loud in the sudden quiet around them. Victoria cleared her throat, and Irene smothered a tempting chuckle.

"I rather thought that would go without saying," she said. "However, I accept. A drink sounds lovely."

"I'll be back in a minute."

"What did… Sherlock Holmes tell you about me?" she asked before Victoria could go. She turned on her heel, long hair moving distractingly over her shoulders as she cocked her head.

"Nothing we couldn't find out for ourselves," she said. "Sit down, Ms. Pulver. I'm afraid this jet was built for practicality, not comfort, but it goes faster than a civilian plane, and we'll stop to refuel in Europe."

"Will there be a hotel with silk sheets involved somewhere along the way?" Irene purred. Victoria's cheeks seemed to be permanently flushed.

"Only if you behave yourself on the journey," she said.

"Oh, girl guide's honour." Irene crossed her legs the other way before buckling herself in.

"…Uh-huh. I, uh, won't be long."

Irene watched her soulmate's figure as she strode off in the direction of the cockpit. She tucked her handbag behind her heel, and ignored the stares of the other agents around her.

Well. This was going to be an interesting trip indeed.

* * *

There were permitted a four-hour stopover in Venice. Irene talked Victoria into taking her to a nice little _pensione_. They didn't bond – Irene balked at such commitment – but they kissed along each other's soulmarks, used the time to get rid of the worst of the tension which had begun to build the moment they met. She enjoyed wringing her real name out of her soulmate who, for all her commanding nature in front of others, was perfectly willing to be dominated and taken care of.

On the Quinjet again, Victoria answered a call from someone named Phil.

"Calm down… they found Captain America? You need to get over that crush of yours… no, Phil… yes, I found her… I'm not telling you that! Well, John Garrett can go to hell, and you can tell him I said that… and him, you're a bunch of perverts… Phil, Steve Rogers is very unlikely to be your soulmate…" She sighed. "You can tell me all about it later… yes, get your trading cards, wonderful idea… no, Phil, I'd prefer to talk to my soulmate, if you don't mind." Then she hung up, and dropped her head back against the head-rest.

"You have inquisitive friends?" Irene said. Victoria groaned.

"The problem with being a spy is that all your friends are spies, and think that everything about you is their business," she grumbled.

"I suppose that is what friends are for."

"I guess so."

"It sounds… nice."

Irene looked away when Victoria glanced at her, hating that moment of vulnerability in front of her soulmate. She felt a hand take hers, and looked up again.

"They'll be your friends, too," she said. "And you can keep them in line for me."

She winked, all too aware of the various toys of punishment in Irene's suitcase.

* * *

Irene never had a chance to meet Phil Coulson. Victoria took her to the safe-house before running off to fight some alien enemy – literal alien, what had her life come to? – in New York City. Irene watched the television reports in horror. What _were_ those things?

She received the call from Victoria saying that Phil had died, and talked soothingly to her for half an hour afterwards.

"He would've liked you," Victoria said, sounding as though she had a cold. Irene's heart ached in sympathy.

"He must have good taste," she said.

"He was a good man. Many people around here will miss him."

"Victoria… what happened there? What _were_ those things?"

"I'll tell you everything that isn't classified. Just… stay where you are. And stay safe."

"How long until you get here?"

"I honestly don't know. But please stay inside. We've dealt with the immediate danger, but people might try to take advantage of the confusion."

"Very well," Irene said. "Send me a message every half hour so that I know you're still alive."

"You'd better respond."

"I will."

* * *

Irene traded messages with Sherlock, reassuring him that she was alright, that she hadn't been anywhere near Manhattan, and she would ensure that SHIELD kept her out of Mycroft's sight if he went to New York in the aftermath. It was unlikely that he would make the trip himself, unless the queen herself asked him to.

Victoria looked absolutely exhausted when she arrived at the safe-house, and nearly fell into Irene's arms. Irene led her to the couch in the living room, and left her there while she used the microwave to prepare soup. Her assistant had always done these things for her, but following the manual was a piece of cake, and she'd had a meal earlier. The dishwasher proved more challenging, so she opted to leave everything until the morning, when she could get Victoria's assistance.

"Here you are," she said, placing the bowl on the table in front of her soulmate. "Please eat something. You look dead on your feet."

"I'm sitting down," Victoria said. Irene nearly rolled her eyes, but reminded herself that Victoria had had a hellish day.

"Semantics," she said, picking up the bowl again and beginning to feed her. "I _am_ sorry about your friend. I watched everything on the news as it was happening. Horrific."

"Dangerous, being my soulmate," Victoria said between sips of soup. Irene shrugged.

"Just as dangerous for you," she said. "Many people are after me. Or have you forgotten why it was necessary to fake my death?"

"Remind me to send a thank-you card to Sherlock Holmes."

Irene kissed Victoria's forehead as she dropped off to sleep. She left the woman slumped on the couch while she fetched a pillow and quilt from her bed, then tucked her in, placing the folded glasses on the table to keep them safe. She took the dishes through to the kitchen, and then retreated to her own bed. She drifted off to sleep with thoughts of her soulmate's long hair spread over white pillows, and smiled through the night.

* * *

"Who was it?" Irene asked, her hand tight around the telephone.

"An agent of HYDRA," Coulson replied. "I'm so sorry, Lara."

"I knew that she died when the soulmark faded. You can't give me any more details?"

"It was a prisoner transfer. One of our own barely got away when the Fridge was attacked. He was beaten up pretty badly."

"Did she suffer?"

"No. She was shot."

Irene nodded, even though Coulson wouldn't be able to see it. "She didn't die alone."

"She was among friends."

"And the enemy."

"Yeah… it was John Garrett. He's HYDRA."

Squeezing her eyes shut, tears trickled down Irene's cheeks, and she sniffled. She hadn't cried since London.

"I know you loved her, Lara. She knew it, too, even though…"

"Even though I never said it."

"And she loved you."

"I know." That was what hurt the most. "I know."

"We'll find Garrett. And when we do, I'll kill him myself. For you."

"Make it horrible," she said. "I want him to suffer at the end."

"He will," Coulson said. "They won't get away with this."

"Good. And… if you need my help—"

"Thank you. Just… remember the good times. Live as much as you can. When the time comes, I swear, I'll make sure you can play a role in bringing down HYDRA."

Irene thanked him quietly, and then hung up.

Time to use some of her old contacts. She would need them.

* * *

**Didn't see myself getting around to writing something with Hand as one of the main characters because she, y'know, **_**died**_**. But 1_The_Purple_Donkey_1 requested any pairing with her, and suddenly it hit me. Irene Adler. Thus, this chapter was born, leading me to question my life choices again. And **_**your**_** life choices, for reading these stories and encouraging me with all your weird ship requests.**

**Please review, my dears!**


	71. Not the First Time (Fitz x Tony)

**Note: Spoilers for **_**Agents of SHIELD**_**, S02E16 ('Afterlife'). Takes place just after the stinger.**

"Not the First Time"

"Actually," Leo said around a bite of sandwich, and _oh_, that pesto aioli, "could you take me to the train station?" He didn't need as much identification as he would for air travel.

"Won't get you there as fast," the driver said.

"I'm in no hurry." Not while 'real' SHIELD didn't know that Jemma had performed a switcheroo.

"Don't get crumbs everywhere, okay?"

"I'm being careful."

It was time for a change of plans. Leo had ideas on how to open the toolbox, but if it was keyed to only authorised individuals, he would need help finding those individuals. If only he knew where to find Coulson… but wherever he was, Gonzales would be looking for him. And they had to keep the toolbox as far from the others as possible.

"Say," he said, leaning forward, "there's a national railway system, isn't there?"

"Yeah, dude, there's Amtrak."

"Does it go to every state?"

"You might have to change at a couple of stations."

"That's alright." No one would be looking for him. "What about getting to New York?"

"Yeah. Penn Station's the one you want, if you're looking to get to NYC."

Leo nodded. "Thanks. Big fan of Disney. There's usually some Disney show on Broadway, isn't there?"

The taxi driver laughed. "My girl loves Disney. She nearly bankrupted us going to _Matilda_, but she thinks it was the best thing ever."

"I'll make a note of it," Leo said, smiling as he raised his phone and looked up how to get to Stark Tower from Pennsylvania Station. "Thanks."

* * *

Damn good thing it wasn't too busy, or Leo would feel even more in over his head. He clutched his bag close, tried to make himself as small as possible, and kept his eyes peeled for danger.

Ah, bless whoever decided to number the streets so neatly. It wouldn't take all that long to reach Park Avenue from here. He grabbed a drink on the way, and then… it started to feel like everyone was watching him. That there were eyes on him, HYDRA's eyes, _everywhere_. He bought an Avengers cap (because why not?), shoved it down low over his head, and kept moving. Every red light slowed him down, and his heart didn't stop racing until he was safely inside the lobby of Stark Tower. Keeping his face away from the obvious cameras, he hurried to the desk.

"Hello, I'd like to see Mr. Stark," he said. The receptionist raised an eyebrow.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked.

"This was kind of a last-minute thing." If only he could mention SHIELD. "We… we have a mutual acquaintance. The same with the rest of the Avengers, really, but it's Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner I need to see most of all. Please? I can wait down here. Go through a weapons check, whatever's necessary."

"Sir—"

"Tell him I know Phil."

She looked at him dubiously. "Phil?"

"That's it. Just… tell him… them… that I know Phil."

"Last name?"

"Mine?"

"Yes."

"I'd rather not."

He continued to stare at her until she sighed, picked up the phone, and dialled a number.

"Mr. Stark? A young man here to see you. He says he knows a mutual friend named Phil." Her eyes widened. "You will? Very well, sir. I'll send him up."

Leo could hardly believe it as she replaced the phone in its cradle.

"Go into that elevator," she said, pointing to a lift with silver doors, "and it will take you straight to Mr. Stark."

"Erm… thank you." Slightly dazed, he walked over to the lift, and the doors opened on cue. It was obvious that one wrong move would end with him unconscious, and probably chained to a chair or thrown in a cell. He couldn't let them get their hands on the toolbox, so he was careful not to fidget at all. When the doors opened, he expected (hoped) that he'd be at the famous workshop, or on one of the research and development levels, but instead he appeared to have arrived at the Avengers' common area.

And they were assembled there because of him. Oops. He cleared his throat and stepped out of the lift, and immediately noticed Tony Stark standing to his right, leaning against the wall. It was an amazing moment, and he swallowed.

"I need your help, sir," he said. All he got in return was a raised eyebrow, and he tried not to hyperventilate under the pressure as the rest of them watched him, unmoving and intimidating.

"It'd better be interesting, Scotty, or I'll beam away," he finally replied.

No.

"Holy Christ!" Leo said. His carry bag fell to the floor. Like a shot, Clint Barton was there, kicking it away, and Natasha Romanov had Leo kneeling down with one arm bent behind his back. He swore loudly.

"JARVIS, have you scanned the bags?" she asked.

"There is an item made of vibranium in the backpack," a British voice said. So it was true about the AI running the tower. "It is a small cube."

"Don't touch it!" Leo said, knowing better than to struggle but desperate to nonetheless. "Please. I don't know what to do with it. That's why I need Mr. Stark, and possibly Dr. Banner."

"Don't touch the larger bag at all," Steve Rogers – Captain Bloody America! – said. "The Germans hid explosives in pens and left them lying around for children to pick up. Who knows what HYDRA might have rigged?"

"I'm not HYDRA. I'd _never_ be HYDRA, not after what they did. I'd rather _die_. Hell, I said as much to Garrett." God, that'd been a horrible day.

"Mr. Stark, the elevator is about to arrive on this floor," JARVIS said.

"Are there any explosives in the bags?" he asked.

"Nothing detectable, sir."

Agent Barton nudged the carry bag away, and the door opened. Leo's jaw dropped.

"Agent Hill!" he blurted out. "Oh, thank God!"

"Agent Fitz?" Maria Hill said, staring at him. "Natasha, let him up. He's one of us, although I'd like to know what he's doing here."

The pressure was relieved, and Leo was helped to stand again. He glanced at Tony (he had to be Tony, just _had_ to be), who was watching him suspiciously.

"Fitz?" he said. "You look familiar."

"Leopold Fitz. Erm… could I have my bag back?"

Agent Hill nodded, and Agent Barton handed it over.

"Thank you," he said. The archer just cocked his head slightly, and Leo swallowed before turning back to Agent Hill.

"Turns out there's another SHIELD," he said. "Gonzales is in charge. He sent two spies undercover… an' yeh know, I'm _really_ sick and bloody tired of being betrayed by people I considered friends."

"Calm down, Fitz," she said. "What happened?"

"They came for this." He shifted his backpack around and fished out the toolbox. "Jemma made a fake one. I have no idea where Coulson is, nor where Skye or Hunter are, I can only hope they're with him. Jemma and May are still back at the Playground, and I haven't seen either of the Koenig brothers. Mack and Bobbi were the spies for… they call themselves the real SHIELD, but they're _not_. Fury gave this to Coulson, which means that it's important."

"Coulson?" Agent Romanov said. "Phil Coulson?"

"Our mutual friend," he said. "Did… didn't you know?"

Agent Hill sighed. "He was going to tell them himself one day."

"It's too bloody late for that! He's gone, and he needs this, but I don't know where to find him. I don't even know how to open the toolbox. I can only assume it's somehow keyed to him."

"Let me see."

True. She'd been deputy-director while Fury was alive; perhaps she could open it? He handed it to her, and then glanced at Tony, who was still watching him, his lips thin and white.

"Coulson was alive all this time?" he asked. Screw secrecy. Fitz couldn't lie to _him_.

"Except for the five days he was dead," he said. A few of the Avengers inhaled sharply.

"You really have no idea where Phil is?" Agent Hill asked. Leo shook his head. "I'll make enquiries."

"Thank you, Agent Hill."

"No," she said. "Thank you, Fitz. For getting this away from… the others."

"It was really Jemma," he said. "She made the copy, smuggled the real one into my bag, made me a sandwich… a really good sandwich, one of the best…"

"He's definitely not HYDRA?" the captain said.

"I don't have my lanyard anymore," Leo said. "They took it away when I left." Agent Hill rolled her eyes.

"Fitz nearly gave his life on more than one occasion when SHIELD fell," she said. "He's a good agent and a genius. Graduated from the SHIELD academy eleven years ago."

"How old are you?" Agent Barton said, sounding shocked.

"T-twenty-seven."

Tony Stark's grin was the very definition of unholy, and he held up a tablet with old newspaper clippings from Scotland. Christ. Skye hadn't deleted those, what the hell?

"You remind me of me when I was your age," he said. Leo's cheeks grew warm.

"Yeah, well." He couldn't think of anything else to say, and chose to stare at the floor, nervously shifting his weight. Agent Hill sighed.

"Stark, take him to your workshop," she said. "Help him figure out how to open this thing." She shoved the toolbox into Leo's hand. "I'll start looking for Phil."

"And ask him whether Hunter and Skye are with him?"

"Of course."

"We have to get the others back as well. They let me leave because Jemma told them that only she could open this, or I'd still be there—"

"Fitz." She touched his shoulder. "We'll handle this."

He nodded, and followed Tony into the lift, still holding onto his bag and the toolbox like his life depended on it. Perhaps it did? The lift doors closed, and he realised that he was alone. With Tony Stark. Who was possibly…

"I'm sorry," Leo said, putting the bigger bag down. "But I have to check."

"Check what?" Tony said. Leo raised his shirt and bared his torso, where his soulmark was written across the sensitive skin.

"Is this your writing?" he asked. Tony tensed, but stayed silent. "I'm sorry, but you said my words, and I had to ask, because no one else has ever said them to me, not those ones exactly, and certainly not as the first thing, and I… No, I'm sorry, it was stupid. Forget it." He shoved his clothes back down into place, cursing himself creatively in the privacy of his own mind and picking up the case again. Swallowing back the disappointment, he stared at his hands, feeling an unwelcome twitch where there shouldn't have been one, not anymore.

"…Let me have another look."

"What?"

"C'mon, kid, put the bag down, lift your shirt."

"No!" He backed off when Tony stepped forward. "I must've misheard. Just something I've been waiting to hear all my life, sometimes I think someone's said it, but they haven't. It'll happen one day, so…" He turned to face the doors, and prayed they would open soon. He hated his ears popping as much as the next person, but surely the lift could move faster than this?

"Been called Scotty a lot, have you?"

"When you're a Scottish engineer living in America, the nickname is inevitable."

Finally, finally, the doors opened. Leo hurried out, and tried to force himself to be excited that he _was_ _in Tony Stark's lab_. But… he couldn't. He'd thought, for about five minutes, that he'd found his soulmate. Someone he'd admired nearly all his life, aspired to be like, had an extremely reasonable crush on, especially after Iron Man… Well, he was getting used to disappointment. And he _would_ find his soulmate one day.

"Do you wanna see my soulmark?" Tony said, leading Leo into the workshop. "Put your bags there. Yep. Now give me… that's right. Do you wanna see my soulmark? Don't make me repeat myself again."

"No, I'm okay," Leo said. "It would only matter if I said your words, which I didn't—"

"You did."

"…Oh."

"But I'm used to people asking me for help. We let it get out that my soulmark was someone asking me to do something for them, but nothing specific."

"You'd have every reason to be suspicious."

"Billions of reasons, all right in the bank. Or on the stock market. Or… wherever. The point is… you said my words. I'm asking whether you want to check to see whether it's your writing or not."

Slowly, Leo shook his head. "I'd rather just get on with this, if you don't mind. I can be out of your hair as soon as possible, but I needed equipment in a place I could trust, an' could be safe from HYDRA. They want me dead, so…"

Tony gestured to a holograph table and switched it on. "Is it because I'm that much older than you?"

"N-no."

"Then what is it?"

"…Nothing. Can we just—"

"I'm thinking it's not nothing," Tony said, getting closer. Fist still clenched around the toolbox, Leo stayed where he was. He felt like a rabbit caught in a trap. Ah, hell.

"I… I need to—"

"I'm a genius, you're a genius; you can't seriously be intimidated, can you?"

"O' course I can!"

"And you don't have anything against Americans, or you wouldn't be in this country. Do you hate facial hair?"

"No, you're… perfect." Tony snorted. "For me. I mean, t-to me. I'm the one who's… who's…"

"Who's what, Leopold?"

"I p-prefer Leo." Oh God, he was too close. Oh God, hands were on his hips.

"What's the problem, Leo?"

He shut his eyes tightly. "We're not soulmates."

"Why aren't we?"

"`Cause I'm not that lucky."

Tony scoffed. "You and I have different definitions of 'lucky'."

"T-to find my soulmate at all."

He felt fabric shifting, and opened his eyes to see Tony kneeling before him and studying Leo's soulmark. Before he could get a good look, Leo wrenched away.

"Don't—"

"Is _this_ your writing?" Tony stepped in front of him and raised his left sleeve. He peeled away a masking device, revealing… "No, look at it _properly_. Is it your handwriting?"

It was. Goddamnit, it was. But the words wouldn't come, no matter how hard he tried to find them, to force them out. Tony moved closer, so close, and rested their foreheads together, eyes fluttering shut.

"Say yes," he whispered. "Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes, please…"

Leo nodded, brushing their noses together. "Y-yes. It's m—"

The rest of the words were muffled as Tony kissed him; cupped his cheeks, parted his lips, and bloody well kissed him. Leo's legs nearly went from under him in shock. He whimpered as two callused hands roamed up the skin of his back. They were warm where the air was cool, and felt so very safe. Gradually, he relaxed, just went with it. It took a clattering noise on the table to break them apart. Fury's toolbox, which Leo had dropped. Fortunately there was no damage, either to toolbox or table, and he laughed.

"Pretty sure Coulson and Jemma would both have my head if anything happened to this," he said, spinning it nervously. "Erm…"

"Do you have anything else?"

"That… that I need to study? N-not at the moment—"

"No, aside from your bags." Tony gestured to them. "Do you have anything else?"

"No. It's mostly projects and some clothes. I don't need much outside of what can be found and tinkered with in a lab."

"I'd say a man after my own heart, but you definitely need more than just that. We'll have to do some shopping. Here." He reached around Leo and switched off the table again. "Forget about Fury's toy for now. Let's go to my floor and—"

"But we need to do this, right now—"

"Hill will find Coulson. _Right now_ I want to get to know my soulmate."

"Soulmate." Leo smiled. "I've wondered for a long time…"

"Not as long as me, kid. I'm nearly forty-five years old and you're not even thirty, Jesus Christ."

"I don't care `bout that. I want someone who could keep up with me intellectually, and… doesn't treat me any differently `cause of the brain damage."

"Brain damage?" Tony said, eyes narrowing. "Someone hurt you. HYDRA, wasn't it? Am I right?"

"I should've died, but Jemma saved my life. I was without oxygen for awhile, though, and unconscious in the water, and… So I'll understand if you'd rather not…" He avoided eye contact.

"…Leo, I'm just glad you're alive. I don't want to lose you because you think I'm better off that way. I'm not. I've waited all my life, spent nearly half of it thinking I didn't have a soul. The only thing giving me any real hope in Afghanistan was the thought that I still had to meet you, and that if I didn't get out of there then you – wherever you were – might get killed by one of my bombs, and it would be all my fault."

"Don't say things like that, Tony."

"You're my soulmate. You'll have to get used to the angst."

Leo touched their noses together. They were very nearly the same height. "I think we'll need to drag each other out of the doldrums."

"You'll stay here? With me?"

"Aye. I'd rather be here than anywhere else."

* * *

**Stick two woobie engineers together. Smex them up. Watch productivity in the lab soar (and everyone else invest in headache medication).**

**So! Pairing requested by the_girl_of_a_thousand_words. Couldn't help myself, after the latest episode. Have tech thing but no lab? Need lab protected from HYDRA and 'real' SHIELD? Head to NYC! And invoke the sacred name of Coulson in the hallowed halls of Avengers HQ.**

**Please review, folks! Still working on other chapters *grumble-grumble* but I was on a roll with this one. (Referred to **_**Matilda**_** because the music was written by an Aussie. So there.)**


	72. Fast Ones (Fitz x Pietro)

**Note: As the previous chapter, references to the latest episode ('Afterlife'), and 'spoilers' based on the trailers for **_**Age of Ultron**_**.**

"Fast Ones"

'_I am the one they call Quicksilver_.'

Leo Fitz had had those words most of his life, standing out stark against his chest, running from one nipple to the other. It was spiky, exotic handwriting, which he had tried to analyse with no luck. There was no record of someone named Quicksilver, although it contributed to his fascination in physics. It occurred to him to look for references to the element mercury, and even the Roman god Mercury and his Greek equivalent Hermes. Nothing concrete.

And then he was hiding out, waiting for word from Coulson – hell, from anyone – when Ultron began to take over the city. Leo stayed in his room, trying to work out something to help the Avengers in taking out the despotic robot. It was hard without the others to support him, to use as sounding boards. Even his hallucination of Jemma would make him feel less lonely, more useful.

But the Avengers succeeded, and he sat back with a sigh of relief. He had some medical knowledge, but would it be too dangerous for him to go out in public with HYDRA always on the lookout?

No. If people needed him, he'd go.

"…two new Avengers, the public are calling them Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver…"

Leo tripped, and nearly face-planted against the door. He whirled around and ran back to the television, watching the reports with hungry eyes.

_Quicksilver. The one with white hair. Quicksilver. My soulmate. Quicksilver._

"An Avenger," he whispered. "That's impossible."

There was a call for volunteers to assist with cleanup. Well, Leo had his own tech. He could help scan the areas. But then this wasn't Greenwich; no bits of alien matter posing dangers to the public. He grabbed the case on the way out, nonetheless, and his medical kit. The council had already organised buses to take volunteers to the worst-affected, so he hopped onto the nearest one, showing his first aid kit as added incentive.

_Please let this be the right bus… please take me to him…_

The DWARFs – thank you, Jemma – examined the site under his watchful eyes, between patching up injuries. He was peripherally aware of the television cameras, but the harsh light of the sun was enough to warrant sunglasses and a hat, provided by nearby supermarkets. Feeling relatively safe, he continued to monitor the DWARFs and tend the wounded, getting a bit of a flush every time someone thanked him profusely.

"Are those your flying robots?" a woman asked, pointing at Sleepy.

"Oh," he said. He hadn't considered how people might feel about seeing more robots after what'd just happened. "Uh, yes. Assessing the area for any more danger. Don't want a repeat after the Chitauri and three years ago, not to mention London last year."

"Did you make them?"

"Yes, I did." He smiled, putting the last bandage around her knee. "There you are."

"Do you need more supplies?" she said.

Leo looked over the crowd. "Probably, yeah."

"I'll see if I can organise some." She stood up, and he steadied her.

"That'd be great, thanks," he said.

"No, thank you, sweetie. What's your name?"

"Oh… I'm nobody."

She looked amused. "Not supposed to be away from work?"

"Something like that." He turned back to the readings, and was pleased to see that there was no alien matter. "Come on back, then. Time to pack up and move on. We might be needed elsewhere. No, Grumpy, get back in here."

He was so busy arranging the DWARFs in the case that he didn't notice he had company until there was a shadow looming over him. He tensed every time someone approached him, and looked up.

"Are you injured?" he asked the man.

"We've got plenty of first aid workers here, but the young lady over there told us what you were doing. Iron Man is still repairing his armour, but it seems like you have just the right tools with you."

"Uh, who are you?"

"Mr. Roberts." They shook hands. "I'm from Stark Industries' insurance division."

"Stark Industries is in insurance now?"

"We assess the damage done by superheroes."

Leo snorted softly. "Must be busy."

"Would you like to come with us? Other areas could use this technology."

"Um… I'll catch a bus there."

"I understand. You don't want someone else to get their hands on your invention."

"…Exactly that. Yes."

"Go wherever you need to, Mr…?"

"I'm sorry, I'm needed elsewhere, goodbye," he said, snapping the case shut. Then he grabbed the first aid kit and ran towards one of the buses about to depart.

* * *

Wanda looked tired. Pietro sat beside her as they snacked on burgers, sitting with the other Avengers where they couldn't be seen by the public.

"SHIELD used to organise the cleanup so that we could stay out of sight," Natasha said, helping herself to fries from one of the large boxes someone had bought for them.

"No more SHIELD," Clint said, grabbing a handful of fries himself.

"Huh." Tony was playing on his phone between bites of burger. "Some whiz kid is scanning the wreckage using robotic tech."

"What?" Bruce said, tensing up.

"He's been going from place to place. Just got a message from our insurance division that he's nearly finished. Pretty close to here, actually. He's also administering first aid, but he won't tell anyone his name." He put his phone down. "I'll have JARVIS do a city-wide scan as well, as soon as the suit's in flying condition."

"You did good today."

They all jumped at the deep voice coming from the shadows, and then a black man with sunglasses emerged. Pietro glanced at the Avengers, who relaxed when they saw him.

"Nice time to show up, Fury," Steve said.

"Had some problems since we last met. Been sorting them out. And what use would I be against that?" He jerked his head towards all the rubble, and the bits of Ultron's duplicates scattered and inert. "These your new team-mates?"

"Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, twins," Clint said, gesturing to them. "They did pretty good, too."

"Hello, new message from Roberts," Tony said, fiddling with his phone again. "Looks like Whiz Kid is heading our way. Should see his mini-bots in action."

"Who?" Fury asked.

"Someone apparently checking out the destruction using his own tech." He did something complicated to the screen, and a holographic projection appeared of a young man with a hat, dark glasses, and a metal case appeared. Fury moved closer, squinting, and then his expression cleared and he laughed.

"I think I'm gonna stay here for this," he said, and he sat beside Thor, who glared at him. Fury ignored it, and stole some nuggets.

"You know who he is?" Steve said.

"Yes. That's why I'm gonna wait."

"Screw this," Tony said, standing up. "I'm gonna go see him myself."

"No time." He pointed at a contraption which flew close by, a circle with four legs, running little lights over the ground. They all stayed quiet and heard someone muttering on the other side of the wall.

"Sneezy, what're you doing? Eh, Dopey, you've done your job, get out of there, daft bugger." Fury snorted, and the talking stopped. Seconds later, the same 'Whiz Kid' popped his head around the wall, and jumped back when he saw them.

"Hey, you, get over here!" Tony called, waving.

"Who, me?"

"Yes, you, before my suit thinks that your toy's a threat and takes it out."

"No!" The young man ran into the area, six other robots flying after him. "Leave Happy alone, he's just curious."

"Did you name those after the seven dwarfs?" Steve said. The man nodded slowly, until Fury cleared his throat.

"Sir!"

"At ease, Fitz. I'm just here for the greasy food." He looked at them. "Agent Fitz is one of our top engineers. Genius IQ. Keep away from him, Stark. He's not yours."

"Now, now." Tony grinned. "You know that's just gonna make me wanna play with him even more."

"You're not playing with me!" the man – Fitz, was it? – said.

"Where are you working now that SHIELD's gone?" Tony said.

"Erm… nowhere, really. Could I have a word with you, Mr. Fury? It's quite urgent."

"If it's about Gonzales, I already know," Fury said.

"You… you do?"

"The director has spoken to me."

"_Our_ director?"

"As long as you're loyal to him."

"Of course. So… he's alive?"

Fury nodded, stealing more fries. "Yep."

"Oh, thank God. I need to get this back to him." He dug around in what looked like a first aid kit, and pulled out a small box. "Gonzales wanted it, but Jemma – you remember Simmons?"

"I remember pulling the two of you outta the ocean."

Fitz grimaced. "Yeah. Well, she made a fake. This is the real one."

"I'll put your director in touch with you."

He sighed. "Thank you, sir."

"Wait, is there… is there a new SHIELD?" Steve said, his eyes growing wide. "What the hell?"

"At least two of them, apparently," Fitz muttered. "Sir, can I get on with my job now? They're nearly done." He tapped the metal case, and Fury nodded.

"Anything of concern, Fitz?"

"Nothing of concern so far, and no alien matter this time, which makes a change."

"A positive one?"

"With Simmons still being held prisoner by Gonzales and his so-called 'real SHIELD'? Yeah, I'm not a bio-scientist. Oh, there we are." He had a tablet out and the case open, and smiled widely. "Done now? Come back to Daddy. That includes you. Don't go straying off… honestly."

It was adorable, the way he coaxed the robots back into their places, touching each of them on the head as though he was saying goodnight. Pietro couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene, not even as Wanda pressed a drink into his hands.

"Perhaps you should take a photograph of the scene?" she said, elbowing him gently.

"Shut up, Wanda."

"We should introduce ourselves to him."

"Great idea," Steve said. Pietro saw his pinch-lipped grin. Damnit, of course he could hear them. Hell, he probably saw Pietro staring at Fitz. "Agent Fitz!"

"Yes, Captain America, sir?" Fitz said, fiddling with the handle of his bag. "I was, uh, just about to go…"

"No, come over here. I'm sure Tony wants to talk to a technical genius like yourself."

"And look at your flying scanners," Tony said.

"Uh… okay." He walked across to them, skirting around debris. "Hello."

"What's your name?" Rhodey said. Pietro liked Rhodey. He was by far the most sensible of the group.

"Leo Fitz. I work for SHIELD. Or worked for. I had to leave, to get the toolbox away, and, uh… I graduated from the SHIELD academy about ten years ago…"

"Fury told us you were a genius," Bruce said. "What's your speciality?"

"Technical engineering. My best friend Jemma Simmons and I built the DWARFs. That, uh, stands for Drones Wirelessly Automated to Retrieve Forensics."

"SHIELD really is built on acronyms," Tony said. "Simmons… wait." He dropped a fry. "You're half of FitzSimmons?"

"Yes."

"Damnit, I read your SHIELD file. I wanted to poach you for SI!"

"The last couple of years I've been on a team we bribed our way onto," Fitz said, shrugging, "so I don't know how successful you might've been. It would take a lot of cupcakes."

"I'd buy you a cupcake _franchise_ if you came to work for me."

"Uh." He coughed. "Thank you, but there are bigger things at stake. Not that I'm not flattered, I really am, but…"

Tony sighed. "The tall building on Park Avenue. Can't miss it. Change your mind, swing by, we'll talk baked goods."

"I'll bear it in mind."

Steve got them all to introduce themselves then. Pietro was at the end of the group, Wanda sitting next to Natasha, and he gave Fitz a small smile.

"…and Pietro, Wanda's twin brother," Steve said.

"I am the one they call Quicksilver," Pietro added.

He wasn't expecting the beaming smile that brought to Fitz's face, making Pietro's heart skip a beat. He almost missed the reply.

"I didn't understand my mark until today," Fitz said.

Wanda gasped, and glanced at Pietro. His half-eaten burger dropped from his hand, and he dashed down to Fitz, stopping only a few scant inches from him. He looked down, wanting to reach out but scared to make that contact. After everything he and Wanda had done, had _almost_ done for Ultron…

"I am so glad I chose the right side," he whispered, looking over his soulmate's face.

"I'm glad I chose to risk being found by HYDRA to see if this," Fitz tapped his chest, "meant you. I was going to help, and then they said your name on the news…"

Pietro knew he must have been smiling foolishly, but he couldn't bring himself to care about that. "Please say you do not wish only a platonic soulbond?"

"God, no. I've waited twenty-seven and a half years for this moment. Call me sentimental, but I really don't want a platonic bond with my soulmate."

"Good." Pietro lowered his head, hoping Fitz would take that last step. He had a moment of worry when the scientist stepped back, but it was only to put his cases down before he moved back to Pietro, cupped the back of his head, and pulled him down for a kiss.

There were obnoxious cheers from the others, but Pietro ignored them. His mind was in a spin, and he wanted to do so much, everything at once. He touched Fitz's sides, lightly, not sure what he should be doing but desperate to feel.

"It's alright," Fitz murmured against his lips. "Don't be shy."

"I've never…"

"It's alright. I'll help you."

"Do… do you have a nickname?"

"Well." Fitz paused. "A friend… he betrayed me, but he used to call me Turbo."

"Fast, like me," Pietro said, smiling.

"Just the way I talk sometimes, but, uh…"

"Let's get back to the tower," Tony said. "Bring your toys with you, Fitz."

"I can see a certain someone being horrified as soon as he finds out," Fury said. "Stay at Stark Tower, Fitz. It'll be easier for us to find you."

"Yes, sir," Fitz said, stroking Pietro's hair and his left arm. "I've just gotta pick up my other bag, then I'm all yours, Pietro."

"All mine." He pressed their foreheads together. "I don't have anything except the clothes on my back."

"I'll change that, I promise."

"Oh?" Pietro raised his eyebrows, and Fitz blushed.

"Not like that," he said. "It's my duty to look after you. And I'll look after your sister as well. Whatever you want, just come to me."

"Fitz…"

"You're my responsibility now." He grinned. "I can't wait to tell Simmons. She'll be pleased as punch that I've found you."

"Pleased as punch?"

"Must be a Briticism, that."

Pietro ducked his head. "I look forward to learning more of your 'Briticisms'."

"Oh my God, you're adorable. I'm keeping you."

* * *

Busy in the kitchen, Wanda missed the arrival of Fitz's friend. She carried out the tray of drinks, practising her telekinesis. She saw a woman with shoulder-length light brown hair chattering to Fitz and Pietro in a rapid English accent. She was very pretty, and Wanda averted her gaze when the woman turned, not wanting to be caught staring.

"This is my friend, Jemma Simmons," Fitz said.

"Would you like some help with that, Wanda?" She looked up, and realised that it was Fitz's friend who was speaking. And she promptly dropped the tray. Fortunately, Pietro was there in an instant to catch it. He straightened up and stared at his sister.

"What were the odds?" he said. She laughed hysterically for a few seconds, and then covered her mouth. "Say something."

"You are my soulmate?" she asked Jemma. The woman gaped, and then smiled.

"Well, that's a turn up for the books, isn't it?"

Pietro sniggered. "Another 'Briticism'?"

* * *

**Yep. Another one.**

**I decided this would be a cute one, partly because one is Quicksilver, and the other is Turbo. Hence the name of the chapter. TurboSilver? TurboQuick? Fitzro?**

**Are these two adorable, or too adorable, my dear readers?**


	73. Whiskey (BuckyxLancexPhil, FitzxNatasha)

**Note: Some dialogue taken from S02E16 'Afterlife', specifically the conversation in the cabin.**

"Whiskey"

"You always travel with whiskey and shot glasses?" Phil said.

"Never know when you're gonna need something to keep you warm on a cold night," Hunter replied flippantly.

"_Two_ glasses?"

Hunter placed the bottle and glasses on the coffee table and sat beside Phil. "The other one's for the person keeping me warm." Phil raised his eyebrows, and Hunter realised how inappropriate that sounded. "But in your case I'll make an exception."

Phil relaxed back, still watching Hunter. He knew why. They were soulmates, two thirds of a triad, but they'd never gone there. Phil was still getting over some mysterious chick, Hunter was still reeling from Bobbi's latest – and final – betrayal. Sure, Phil was a handsome guy, Hunter could admit that, and it's not like he didn't have stray thoughts. They had the same sense of humour, and… yeah, Hunter trusted him. He offered a glass, but Phil shook his head, stood up. Began to pace.

"I need to keep my head clear. SHIELD and Skye gone in one day. How could I let that _happen_?"

"There's no way you could've known," Hunter said. "They fooled all of us. Bobbi and Mack are conniving liars and thieves." He clenched his hands into fists. "And the next time I see either of them…"

Phil sighed, waving a hand. "They're… good agents. Try to see it from their side—"

"Screw their side! There are very few people in this world that I'd thrown down with, but… you're one of them. Gonzales, the _Love Boat_ captain?" He snorted. "Not if hell froze over."

"He's a brilliant tactician who's dedicated his life to SHIELD." Phil shrugged. "I ran into him a couple of times at the Triskelion. He's not a bad guy."

Hunter rolled his eyes. "Good guys don't usually stab you in the back."

"Maybe he's got a point." Phil's shoulders slumped. "I was dead, after all. I shouldn't even be here."

"We all have our bad days," he quipped.

Phil began to laugh. Hysterically, until he sank back onto the couch. Hunter slung an arm around his shoulder, waiting for something other than laughter. It petered out slowly, and Hunter pulled his soulmate closer.

"You're okay now," he said. "Come on, Phil."

"Oh God, I'm so tired of it all." Phil rubbed his face.

"Well…" He sighed, and waited for Phil to look at him. "Maybe we should forget all this, head down to Mexico. We can lay low, enjoy the quiet life."

"You mean together?"

"Why not?"

"Because you weren't…"

"Weren't?"

"Interested."

Hunter frowned. "In what?"

"This." Phil glanced at Hunter's hand, resting on his shoulder. "Us."

"…Was I supposed to be able to read your mind?"

"Please," he scoffed. "I knew it wouldn't matter as soon as you saw Bobbi again. I didn't meet you until after the divorce, but I'd heard enough about the… attraction between the two of you. The chemistry that transcended soulmateship. Like I was gonna stand in the way of that."

"Seems it was all based on a lie. Again."

"I'm sorry. I—"

"You didn't know," Hunter said. "It's her fault."

"Hunter—"

"Call me Lance."

Whatever prompted him – probably that pathetic look on the director's face – Hunter tipped his head around and kissed him.

There was no particularly enlightening feeling. It was just a regular, chaste kiss. Nothing he could call special about it, nothing to indicate that they shouldn't be anything other than platonic soulmates, no bonding necessary. After all, soulmateship was considered only to be a suggestion these days, why he hadn't been terribly bothered about being swept up in the enigma that was Barbara Morse. And… why was he still kissing Phil? It wasn't being returned. Hunter tried to pull back… but he couldn't. Why not?

Then the director leaned in, increased the pressure from his end, _kissed_ back, and Hunter understood exactly why he couldn't pull away.

* * *

Peeling his eyes open drowsily, Hunter rolled over in bed and encountered cold sheets.

"Phil?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. He swung his legs over the side and stood up, before getting dressed. That'd better be breakfast he could smell.

"When you're ready, I've got toast to go!"

"Coming!" Hunter called back. He tucked his socked feet into his shoes, then walked out into the main area. He stretched as he approached the table, smirking when he saw the way Phil eyed the patch of bare skin the manoeuvre revealed.

"No time for that," he said. "Eat what you can. We're going to have visitors soon."

"Do I want to know who?" Phil didn't reply to that, and Hunter sighed. "I'm guessing that's a no to Mexico?"

"Afraid so. It's not an option. There _are_ no good options."

"Well, maybe it's time for the bad ones," Hunter said.

"My reasoning exactly," Phil said, his smile secretive. Hunter hummed, suspicious.

"What've you done?" he asked.

"Summoned SHIELD."

"…Come again?"

* * *

Admittedly, if Natasha had known that she was about to walk into a room full of HYDRA agents, she probably would've called Clint for backup. She ordered a drink, recognised a few faces, didn't engage anyone in conversation. She didn't recognise anyone, but even if there were innocent civilians in the room, she wouldn't be able to identify them, let alone get them out safely. It was mass casualties or nothing if she wanted to get out of here alive, and she'd definitely been recognised by at least three operatives.

She should've known that following the note slipped into her pocket was dangerous.

"Rookie mistake," she muttered to herself. "I'm out of practise."

"Can I get you anything else?" the bistro owner said. "Say, you look familiar."

"Is that her?"

She looked over, eyes narrowing, and saw a dark-skinned boy clutching an Iron Man figurine and pointing at her.

"Thank you for meeting me, Ms. Romanov."

Taking her eyes off the known dangers: another rookie mistake. Sparring wasn't enough to keep her skills fresh. She glared at the man on the other side of her.

"Do I know you?" she asked.

"No, but the young man does. His name is Ace Peterson, and we're looking for his father. An old friend of yours has kept in touch with Mike, and it seemed the best way was to bring you here, bring Ace here…" The man smiled behind the rim of his coffee mug. "He's a big superhero fan. Misses his dad, I'm sure. And his dad will miss him if anything happens to the boy."

"What makes you think I'd do anything you asked?" she said.

"Miss Widow, can I get your autograph?" Ace said. She slid off the stool and stood beside him.

"Ms. Romanov, most of the people in this room are not on your side," the man said. "A wrong step and you both die. We'll find another way to lure Deathlok and Coulson to us."

Natasha swallowed. She stepped between the man and Ace, and crouched down to meet Ace's eyes.

"When I tell you to run," she began.

"What do we have here, then?"

She looked over Ace's shoulder as a young man with curly hair walked into the bistro. Ace spun around, and Natasha saw his smile.

"Fitz!" he said. The young man, apparently named Fitz, strode forward and crouched down before them.

"Hey, Ace," he said. "What brings you here?"

"They said I can see Dad!"

"Did they, just? Nice Iron Man doll."

"It's not a doll," Ace said. Natasha watched, reluctantly amused, and wondering how the hell to play the situation with yet another unknown element. "It's a figurine."

"I've got a toy, too," Fitz said, rummaging in his bag. "Hang on a tick…"

"Fitz?"

His head snapped up, and Natasha glanced back to see the group Fitz was glaring at.

"Ward," he snarled. "Long time."

"Wait, that's Agent Ward?" Ace said, trying to see over Natasha's shoulder.

"Just a second," Fitz said.

Then he pulled out a stick with a disc on top, threw himself over Ace and Natasha, and brought the end of the stick down. A wave of energy flew out over the top, hitting everything and everyone in its path and upwards. They all slumped over, and Fitz met Natasha's eyes.

"Sorry about that, miss, but it was necessary," he said, and he scrambled back. He tucked the stick away. "How are you, Ace?"

"What happened?" the boy said.

"Place is full of baddies, so maybe we should save conversation for someplace a wee bit safer, eh?" He slung his bags over his shoulders, then stood up, and offered a hand to Natasha. She didn't need it, but accepted the gallant gesture. Still chatting to Ace, Fitz led them outside, his eyes constantly moving, checking both of them, their surroundings, the café they'd just left. "And what's your name?"

"Who are you affiliated with?" she asked.

"Well, sure as hell not them," he said, jerking his thumb to indicate the café. Then his eyes widened. "Holy…" He glanced at Ace. "Moly. I'm sorry, miss, but did I say your soulmate words? Because you just—"

"Maybe," she lowered her hood back over her shoulders, and his eyes grew wide, "this is a conversation for somewhere more private?"

He looked down at Ace again. "You have a bad habit of being kidnapped by the wrong people."

"That's the Black Widow," Ace said, pointing at her.

"I realise that now."

"Are you soulmates?"

"I don't know, Ace. Let's just get you away from any HYDRA agents, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Good thing I brought a motorbike and sidecar," Natasha said, leading them away from the scene. "You never know when you might need to tie someone up and take them into custody."

* * *

"She's definitely on the asset register?" Hunter whispered.

"Without a doubt," Phil replied quietly. "And she's probably Cal's type. If we get to her first—"

"Then we might be able to find Cal and ask if he's seen Skye."

"Right."

"Um… but there's no building there."

"What?" Phil frowned as he stuck his head around the corner. "Construction?"

"Scorch marks being painted over on either side," Hunter said, pointing to the buildings either side. "Did she have fire powers?"

"No," he said. "Not listed on her record, anyway. Damn. Cal or HYDRA must've gotten to her first, the bastards."

"Where to now?"

"Broadway? We could see a show. I've always wanted to see _The Lion King_ on stage."

"Is it on at the moment?"

"If it isn't, we'll find something else. Do you think _Wicked_ is still—?"

"Shh!" Hunter covered his soulmate's mouth, and looked around. "I thought I heard something."

"Either whoever it is wants us to hear them, or they're incompetent."

"Definitely not incompetent."

Hunter and Phil both jumped back from the rasping voice in the shadows. Pale face and dark eyes emerged from beneath a hood. Hunter glanced at Phil. They both had those words in the same writing.

"Would you like to prove that?" Hunter asked the stranger.

"Assuming you're not against us," Phil added.

"Those words… they're on my body."

"We have yours as well, sir. Could you tell us your name?"

"I'm… not always sure of it."

Phil and Hunter glanced at each other again, and Hunter cleared his throat.

"Let us help you remember," he said. "Come on over here."

"…You will not hurt me."

"Of course not. Just don't give us reason to."

The stranger – their soulmate? – finally walked into the light. Hunter didn't recognise him, but Phil must've done, judging by his gasp.

"Bucky Barnes," he said. "I… I'm sorry, you just look like—"

"He called me that. My… that is my name. HYDRA made me… made me do things. They gave me this." He lifted his left arm. All Hunter saw of it was a metal hand, but again, Phil knew something he didn't.

"The Winter Soldier," he murmured.

"Please help me."

"Why did you pick us?" Hunter asked. A damn good question indeed.

"Because I had to. And you are not with HYDRA."

"How do you—"

"What you said a minute ago. It sounds like you are not with them."

"Are you really Sergeant James Barnes?" Phil said. The man nodded slowly. "What can we do to help you, James?"

"Keep me…"

"Keep you?" Hunter prompted.

"…Safe."

"We can do that," Phil said, touching James's arm. "Come with us. There'll be enough room."

* * *

It took a few days to drag the whole experience out of him, everything he could remember, and it just made Phil and Hunter more determined to go after HYDRA and tear the entire organisation down, top to bottom. It also took awhile for them to realise that he was all but spelling it out in neon lights that he wanted to bond.

"So we won't lose track of each other," he mumbled into his crossed arms, curled up in one corner of the room. Hunter and Phil were kneeling in front of him, trying to coax him to the table for dinner.

"Let's talk about it over some food," Phil said, touching the metal arm. "Please, James. I know you're not used to feeling hunger, but you'll waste away unless we get something into you."

"And what might that something be?" James asked, arching an eyebrow with a small smile.

"We'll talk about _that_ during dinner, as well."

It was put to the test the day after they bonded, when Phil managed to get in touch with Fitz and find out where he was.

"_Stark Tower_?"

"The hell?" Hunter said, dropping a cup. James caught it, and handed it back to him to finish drying it off.

"Why are you at…? I'm sorry, _who's_ your soulmate? Okay, I didn't see that coming."

"Who is it?" Hunter hissed.

"Just a second, Fitz." He put his hand over the phone. "Put the plate down. Good. It's Natasha Romanov. The Black Widow is Fitz's soulmate. And Ace Peterson is at the tower with them."

"We'd better tell Mike."

"Could you go next door now, before you break any more dishes?"

"Yes, sir."

James half-smiled as he continued to dry the cutlery. Phil exhaled.

"Yeah, go on, Fitz. That's convenient, because we have Mike with us. Yes, I've been in touch with him all along. What do you mean, building up a reserve of supers? I am willing to concede that Gonzales is being an asshole about this… Everyone is special in their own way. I acquire _talent_, Fitz, regardless of supposed magical powers."

"Or super soldier serum," James said softly, smirking as he hung up the tea towel. Phil gave him a withering look. It was good to see his soulmate in a cheerful mood, confident enough to tease him.

"You have someone with you, sir?" Fitz said.

"Mind your own business. Do they… oh, the Avengers know I'm alive? No, it's much safer to be honest with Romanov, I can't fault you there. You… yes, I don't think Mike will be able to resist seeing him. Hunter's getting him. Well, if _he's_ insisting that I show my face, I guess I'd better. Wouldn't want to disappoint your soulmate's best friend. We'll… an hour. Alright, we'll be there in an hour… Fitz, how could I _possibly_ miss that building?"

He hung up, and then sat beside James, who took hold of his hand and squeezed it.

"Are we… _all_ going?" he asked.

"Only if you want to."

"I will. I… I have to. Sometime. And I want it to be with you and Lance."

"Very well."

* * *

"Daddy!"

Mike bent down as Ace ran towards him, and swept him up into his arms. Ace began chattering nineteen to the dozen, while James and Steve talked quietly, and Phil was reunited with the rest of the Avengers and Fitz. He introduced Hunter to everyone, and then they returned to James's side. Phil watched the way Fitz and Natasha stood together, some part of them always touching the other. Fitz would look at her like she hung the moon, but never when she was looking, and he never seemed to notice her staring at him like she would break if he left her.

He couldn't allow that to happen. And, selfishly, he didn't want James to have any cause to look at them in the same way.

"I'm not gonna stay here," James was saying to Steve, who looked crushed.

"But, Bucky, _why_…?"

"Because I found my soulmates. All on my own. And I don't wanna leave `em."

"Bucky—"

"I'm not Bucky Barnes anymore!" Hunter touched James's shoulder, and Phil leaned into his side. "I'm not the man you knew, Steve. I'm trying to become the man I wanna be, and I need my soulmates for that. So where they go, I go."

"Sir, I…"

"What is it, Fitz?" Phil said.

"I'm not leaving Natasha," he said firmly.

"I'm not asking you to. Either you stay here or she comes with us. No soulmates are being separated without their permission. Besides." He cocked his head. "It sounds like you're no longer a SHIELD agent. You're free to go where you want."

"You'll… you'll tell—"

"I'll tell Simmons."

"T-thank you, sir."

"Oh, for the love of God," Tony said. "Why don't you all just move in? Not like there isn't enough room."

"Mr. Stark," Phil began.

"Agent, do you _actually_ have anywhere to go?"

"Uh…"

"Resources?"

"Well…"

"Manpower?"

"And womanpower, don't be sexist!" Tony stared him down. "…Some?"

"I can feel my dad kicking me from beyond the grave, so I'd better take you in." He walked towards the elevators. "Fitz, join me in the lab later. Agent, give him specs. I'll be redesigning the empty floors."

"We don't have to stay here, if you don't want to," Hunter told James. "We go where you want to go."

"I'd…" James looked from Hunter to Phil, to Steve, then back to Hunter. "I want to be somewhere where you two will be safe. If that's here… and Steve ay be able to help me… then yeah. I think we should stay."

"Alright then." Hunter kissed him gently. "Once the gang's all back together, we'll have a party so we can show you off. We could play Scrabble or Twister or Cards Against Humanity."

"No strip poker," Phil said when Clint opened his mouth. He shut it again.

"I just can't wait to see May's face," Hunter said. "I have to be there when you tell her. Especially about Fitz's soulmate. She might actually show an emotion."

Phil elbowed him.

* * *

**Apparently tomorrow (13****th**** of April) is Scrabble Day. Who knew?**

**Wasn't sure how to end this. Problem with writing any 'AoS'-related chapters is that it's an ongoing show, so any chapters which involve speculating what happens in the next episode are, of course, proven wrong within a week. Not to mention the fact that soulmate AU is, well, AU-ish. Y'know?**

**Review, if you please! :D It makes the author happy.**


	74. Never Too Late (Bucky x Fitz)

**Note: Yet another Fitz story. It's ozhawk's fault for writing Bucky/Fitz. Anyway, same kind of spoiler for the previous few Fitz chapters, and I promise to post something different as the next one. Hopefully.**

"Never Too Late"

The small box burned bloody great big holes in Leo's pocket. Metaphorically, thank God, because it's not like he had all that many clothes with him. But he could feel eyes on him everywhere he went, like he couldn't escape, and he knew that just walking around like this wasn't the best way for his people to find him. Skye might not have had access to a computer to hack CCTV of New York, he didn't know where Coulson might be looking, or where Hunter might be…

Sighing, he glanced around again casually while he waited in line for ice cream. At least it was more logical to duck out of an ice cream cue; someone could have a change of heart about that, but they were less likely to about coffee, for example. In fact, Leo was proud of his reasoning, and wished that he could tell Jemma all about it.

Except she was with the wrong people, and he was going to be hunted once they found out what she'd done. _If_ they found out. Oh God, what if they found out? What would happen to Jemma? She'd be at the mercy of 'real' SHIELD.

On his next scope of the area, he saw a flash of dark blonde hair, like Jemma's, only much longer. Then the woman's face turned to his, and his eyes widened.

Bobbi. And she smiled when she noticed him.

"Shit," he muttered, and he took off in the opposite direction. Please, please, _please_ let her be working alone. If she'd brought someone else with her… Damn it, this is why he needed to find someone to give the toolbox to! And what if it wasn't really Bobbi? What if it was Ward's companion? Or Ward himself (with bigger tits)? Leo took the risk of running up to a policeman, and tugged on his sleeve. Time to dust off the American accent again.

"Yeah?"

"Sir, that woman's chasing me," he said, nodding to Bobbi, who'd slowed down when she realised who Leo was talking to. "An ex-girlfriend. Please, you've gotta help me out. Be a pal?"

"She's _your_ ex-girlfriend?" the cop said, looking him up and down.

"Little tip for you: _never_ date a co-worker with terrible spending habits," Leo said, itching to continue running. The cop laughed.

"Okay, kid, get going. I'll buy you some time."

"You're the best, really," Leo said, patting him on the arm, then he took off. The cop wouldn't hold Bobbi for long, but it would at least delay her for a precious few seconds while he worked out what the hell to do in this incredibly crowded city.

Nearing another intersection, Leo noticed the red light, which would probably be long enough for Bobbi to catch up to him. Getting into a taxi would also take too long. His best hope was to keep running until he reached… well, he couldn't go to a police station, because there might be an alert out for him, considering the other SHIELD's potential reach. Talbot wouldn't have a clue who he was, so he couldn't rely on the army. In fact, if he went anywhere that wasn't straight to someone on his side, it would give Bobbi time to catch him, because God knows her legs were longer than his.

Finally! Abandoned shopfronts. Shopfronts for abandoned shops, that is, but it was better than nothing. He could hide until he had a better plan than 'RUN LIKE HELL'. Bobbi was looking back at the cop – what was left of him – so Leo took the opportunity to duck into a passage between two graffiti-scrawled stores. One was padlocked (optimistic owners), and the other's door was falling off its hinges. Not terribly covert, but faster, and he was looking for speed right now. So he ducked in, hoping that the traffic sounds would cover the squeak of rust, and used his phone to see his way through to the centre of the store. He ducked behind a counter and rustled through his backpack. There were the DWARFs. There were parts of a Thunderstick and of an ICER, nothing assembled. Damn, even a taser would be good right now.

"Fitz?"

Bobbi sounded breathless and distant, probably outside. He heard the padlock rattle on the door of the building opposite, and knew he wouldn't have much time to put together the ICER. His hands trembled as he worked quickly, and the final click was loud enough for her to hear. He knew the moment she set foot on the wooden floor, the clomp-clomp of her boots drawing closer. He jumped up from behind the counter, ICER held aloft.

"Why are you following me?" he said. "You've got your information."

"We know that Jemma—"

"Don't call her that!"

She sighed. "We know that _Simmons_ made a fake toolbox. We want to know where the real one is."

"What makes you think I'd know?" he asked, releasing the safety. Bobbi held her hands up in the 'I surrender' move, but that didn't mean anything.

"Because we've searched high and low, and can't find it. You're the only person who's left since we acquired it."

"It was Fury's toolbox."

"And we need it to rebuild SHIELD."

"Phil Coulson is the head of SHIELD," Leo said. "Fury gave it to him. How can we trust that you aren't corrupt when you and Mack were _spying_ on us? The last person who spied on us was Ward, and he was _HYDRA_. We're not taking that chance again."

"We're not HYDRA, Fitz—"

"Why should we believe you?" he shouted.

"Please." Bobbi lowered her hands, holding them out to him. "Just… give me the toolbox."

"Where's Jemma? What've you done to her?"

"Nothing."

"You can't really expect me to believe that?"

"She's… she's in custody."

His blood ran cold. "Did you hurt her?"

"No! But she lied to us—"

"Pot-kettle!"

"Fitz, give me the toolbox… and we can let her go."

He back into the wall, still aiming the ICER at her. "You're really going to bargain with her? She looked up to you. You were _friends_. My God, it's Ward all over again."

"Fitz—"

"I haven't got your bloody toolbox!"

"Don't lie to me!"

"It's with Coulson!"

Bobbi paused. "Then where is he?"

"How the hell should I know? Just… _stop_ following me."

"Where did you last see Coulson?"

"…I'm not telling you."

She shook her head. "You're lying. If you'd seen him, you'd be with him. You left _our_ SHIELD, not his."

"You're not getting your hands on it," he said.

"Do you have the strength to pull the trigger?"

Leo swallowed. "For Coulson? For SHIELD? Yeah, I do."

She moved closer to him, and his hands tensed. He could do this.

"We were friends once," she whispered.

"You were _never_ my friend."

"Is this woman bothering you, Curls?"

Leo's jaw dropped, and he stared at a man walking through the door behind Bobbi. His jaw worked, but no words came out. When the man glanced at him, Leo nodded, trying to think of something intelligent to say, but coming up blank. He'd only had the words for a few months; he didn't think he'd have to think of something so soon.

Then he realised that Bobbi was taking advantage of his distraction to run forwards. The man jumped her from behind, and it was only seconds before she was on the floor, unconscious, both her batons broken and the man with his fist raised, ready to come down on her head in a fatal blow.

"Wait, don't kill her!" Leo said, stepping forward quickly. On second thoughts, probably not the best words to have as a soulmark – pretty fucking bad, in fact – but it was enough to draw the man's attention. He looked up at Leo, and then slowly stood.

"You couldn't know that," he said.

"I don't want you doing that for me. No… no killing. Very sweet of you to offer, but if you do that, we're just as bad as she is, if not worse. Just…" He held out his hand. "Come to me? Please?"

"You couldn't know my words.

Leo rolled his eyes. "And you couldn't know mine. I'm pretty sure I'd remember seeing you naked before. Or anyone in these last… however many months it's been since I got my words as well. Christ, I thought you'd be a baby." He laughed shortly. "You've no idea how glad I am that you're not."

The man stepped closer, through beams of light coming through the shop windows and roof (no wonder it was closed). He was wearing a hoodie, and his hands were tucked in his pockets now, although Leo was pretty sure he'd seen a flash of metal. Was his soulmate already married? His heart sank at the thought, but he wasn't going to stand in the way of that.

"Who are you?" the man asked.

"My name is Leo Fitz. Well, Leopold, but I prefer to be called Leo." He kept his hand out, and the man extracted one of his hands for a shake.

"James Barnes," he said, studying Leo's face.

"Lovely to meet you, James. I… hope it is, anyway."

"You hope?"

"You're not married, are you? I thought I saw something sparkle on your left hand, but I could be wrong." He half-smiled. "I _hope_ I'm wrong about that."

"You are," James said, taking his hand back. Leo's felt cold without it. "Can I… can I see your mark?"

"Well." Leo picked up his phone. "It's not the best light in here, but if you hold this," he handed the phone to James, "and give me a moment." He unbuckled his belt, leaving it in the loops, and then peeled his jeans down far enough to show James the words on his right thigh. "Is it your writing?" James cleared his throat, his cheeks turning pink, and nodded. "Where's yours?" He pulled his clothes back into place, and James handed over the phone before pulling down his own trousers. His mark – in Leo's writing – was on his inner left thigh.

"Yours?" James mumbled.

"Yes," Leo said. "I'm yours, as well."

James looked startled, and quickly rearranged his clothing. "We should leave before she wakes up."

"Just let me grab my bag. I'm staying not far from here. If my room's been left alone, my bag should still be packed."

"Then let's go."

Back at Leo's flat, all his security measures were untouched, and so were his things.

"We'd better not stay long," he said. "Where do you live, James?"

"Back at one of those shops," he said. "The one with the padlock. Next door to where I found you."

"Ah, right," Leo said. "Maybe… we should stay here, then."

"Is it safe?"

He shrugged. "Healthier than where you were staying. Though we'll have to go back and get your things."

"This…" James indicated his clothing. "It's just a change of clothes back there. I've got everything else I need. Weapons, clothes on my back."

"Shit. I have to get you some more things."

"You don't have—"

"I do have to, an' that's the end of it." James closed his mouth. "I need to find my boss."

"Coulson?"

"Yeah. D'you know where he is?"

"No. But if your friend is in danger, I can help you get her back."

"May is there, as well. I don't know where everyone else is." He shrugged helplessly.

"Do you have this toolbox?"

"Yeah. I need to get it to Coulson. I think he's the only one who can open it."

James nodded. "I… don't know many people, and I don't think I can see Steve yet."

Leo frowned as he perched on the edge of the bed. "I recognise your name, but I can't think why."

"Have you been to the Smithsonian lately?"

"Haven't been anywhere near Washington DC."

"Have you heard the name Bucky Barnes?"

"Yeah, o' course. He's on the memorial wall at the Hub… oh my God."

"I think I know why we only got our marks a few months ago," James said, twiddling his thumbs. A surprising action from _Bucky Barnes_. And Christ, one of his hands was made of metal, what the hell? "I was brainwashed by HYDRA. I can't remember much of it, but I've been breaking my programming, trying to find who I was before. One day, when I thought I'd finally shook it, I got my soulmark. While I didn't have your writing on me, HYDRA couldn't find you. Fate was keeping you safe."

"Maybe you're not meant to be the man you were before, and that's why you got your soulmark," Leo said. "Either way, obviously we got ours at the same time." He patted the bed beside him. "Come and sit down. Looks like we need a long chat."

"Do we have time?"

"I suppose not. But you should at least sit down while we discuss where to go now."

"To rescue your friend Jemma. And the other one. May?"

"That's right. Of course, they could probably break out and come looking for me. Hell, I don't know what to do." He covered his face. "Any ideas?"

"Do you know anyone who's good at finding people?" James asked, sitting beside him.

"Yeah, but I have no idea where the hell any of them are. Wouldn't even know where to start looking. It's a huge country, and they could be anywhere, maybe even overseas by now. If I could use the internet…" He raised his head. "I wonder."

* * *

_**L F**__ LionWorks • 4m_

_In an Empire state of mind. Also in a soulmate state of mind. Time to tell friends! #TeamBus #Soulmate #616_

"I don't understand why putting one of those symbols makes the words turn blue," James said, looking over the screen of the new phone. "And why you've used Lion Works."

"Lion for Leo, Works for Fits. It's a play on words."

"Hmm. And this will work?"

"Six-one-six was our call sign, and we named the plane The Bus. The right people will know who this is. We're a pretty intelligent bunch."

James hummed again. He was seated behind Leo and curled around him protectively, where they were hiding out. Leo refused to leave the city, and they stayed indoors as much as possible. James didn't want to risk running into anyone he might know (i.e. Steve Rogers or Natasha Romanov), and Leo was worried that 'real' SHIELD might search New York once they realised that he hadn't left the state.

"How long will it take?" James asked.

"We'll give it a night."

* * *

The next morning, Leo rolled over and checked his phone before getting out of bed. He had a few new followers: MightandPower, BoatSong, BioGirl, and NotAWinchester. No Coulson, but perhaps he was with one of them? He checked their messages, starting with May.

_**M M**__ MightandPower • 5h_

_Feeling free again. #TeamBus #616_

There was a picture attached to it, of most of the 'real' SHIELD team out cold on the ground. Leo smirked, and scrolled down to her two other messages.

_**M M**__ MightandPower • 7h_

_With BioGirl. So happy to be in chains. Just like the old days. #TeamBus #616_

_**M M**__ MightandPower • 7h_

_Congratulations, LionWorks. Looking forward to meeting your soulmate. #TeamBus #Soulmate #616_

Leo grinned, and showed off the messages to James, who grumbled something and turned over to get a few more minutes' sleep. Next, he checked Jemma's account.

_**J S**__ BioGirl • 5h_

_Once more struck by how amazing MightandPower is. #TeamBus #616_

_**J S**__ BioGirl • 6h_

_Oh dear. I see bad things arising for the miscreants who didn't even check to see whether we had additional phones. #TeamBus #616_

_**J S**__ BioGirl • 8h_

_Isn't Twitter a marvellous thing? So easy to find friends. #TeamBus #616_

_**J S**__ BioGirl • 8h_

_Oh my gosh, LionWorks, I'm so happy for you! We must meet up sometime. #TeamBus #Soulmate #616_

_**J S**__ BioGirl • 9h_

_ MightandPower has THE best ideas._

Then he went on to Skye's account.

_**M S P**__ BoatSong • 10m_

_How do you leave the Afterlife? Not being existential here. #TeamBus #616 #DeepQuestions_

Leo frowned, and looked down her other messages. Mainly photographs of her surroundings, and he wondered whether she was trying to work out where she was. One message speculated that she was in China, which… was not a good thought, considering her heritage. He immediately shot off a message to her, asking what was up. While he waited for a reply – her latest message was fairly recently, after all, so there was a chance she was still online – he opened a new tab and began to search images of China. Even though Skye had probably done that already, but it didn't hurt to have an extra pair of eyes on the job.

"Problem?" James said, and he yawned as he rolled back over to face Leo. "You're frowning."

"I don't know where Skye is, but she may be in China. I'm trying to find a good view to match it up with the pictures she's posted on Twitter."

"Uh-huh. You go on with that. I'm gonna search for breakfast."

"The blue bag."

"I know, I know…"

There wasn't any reply from Skye, so he decided to check Hunter's account before continuing his Google search.

_**L H**__ NotAWinchester • 30m_

_Now also in an Empire state of mind, LionWorks. Mutual friend buying funny hats. #TeamBus #616_

_**L H**__ NotAWinchester •1h_

_Forbidden from using song lyrics in tweets. AC gets the tunes stuck in his head. #TeamBus #616_

"Hunter and Coulson are together," Leo said. "That accounts for all of us. Now we just need to meet up."

"Can I come with you?" James asked, dropping a breakfast bar into Leo's lap.

"I was counting on it," Leo said. "I'm not going anywhere without you."

"Even though I'm not ready to bond yet?"

Leo's face softened. "Even if you're never ready to bond, it's enough to know that Fate's deemed me worthy of having a soulmate. Honestly, it makes me happy just to look at you, even though I should probably tune down the ogling."

"Are you kidding?" James said, his gaze trailing down Leo's body. "That's my favourite part."

* * *

**Bored with writing the tweets. Sigh.**

**I'm still plugging away at the three unfinished chapters. Gotten a bit of a move on with one of them, so I might finish it today. Then I'll take a break from writing Fitz for awhile… depending on tomorrow's episode, anyway. That resolve may yet break, because he's adorable and fun to write, and sometimes I just need a holiday from the angst.**

**Please review! [At signs don't appear on ffnet. Le sigh.]**


	75. Seabiscuit (Doom x Pietro)

"Seabiscuit"

There were group exercises, the occasional international journey, a bit too much press exposure; but the first big battle that the Avengers faced after Ultron was on the coast, trying to stop Victor von Doom from entering the country illegally. The Maximoff twins had already been inducted, and training with their team-mates was a good way to focus on cohesion. However, it wasn't until today that they had a chance to put all that training into practise.

"What do you need me to do?" Pietro asked Steve.

"How quickly can you examine a Doombot on the move?"

"I don't know."

"Find out. They won't stay still long enough for Tony to do a reading."

Pietro's eyebrows shot up, but he said nothing. Instead, he raced off.

Battles against Avengers had the capacity to become extremely complicated, judging by footage the twins had seen of the Battle of New York. Still, it shouldn't have been entirely unexpected when Doom showed up himself; that was the point, after all. Pietro swung himself around a large Doombot, fingers and eyes moving rapidly as he examined it. The robot flung him off. He regained his footing, and made for another one on the opposite side of the field before those around could register his presence and attack.

"What secrets do you hide?" he asked the robot, searching further. This one almost fried him. He kept running, collecting arrows for Hawkeye and returning them, throwing Captain America's shield back after it got stuck in a building, and herding civilians away from the site. He returned to Wanda's side frequently.

"I'm fine, Pietro! Take a run!"

He dodged bullets and arrows as he knocked over robot after robot, never too many in an area at once. With glee, he saw Doom watching him. Maybe acting as a decoy would be best? While the creator was distracted, the creations would be easier to take out.

So… he taunted the dictator. Ran past him, tugging his jacket, poking his stomach, slapping his backside, tweaking his ear. Anything he could do to throw the man off-balance. He heard Steve praising him, but warning him to take care.

Wise advice, considering that he must have fallen into a pattern; because the next time he touched Doom, the man had his throat in an iron grip.

"You're a fast one, Seabiscuit, aren't you?" he said menacingly. Pietro's stomach dropped, and so did his heart.

"Oh, shit, not you," he muttered. He pushed against Doom's chest, and the man let him go in shock. Plenty of time to bolt to the other side of the field, possibly faster than he had ever moved in his life, and he hid behind a wall.

"Quicksilver, are you alright?" Hawkeye said.

"Doom is my soulmate."

"_What_?" half a dozen voices said.

"Not my fault! No one has ever called me 'Seabiscuit' before."

Wanda swore very creatively in their mother tongue. Pietro wondered how she came to know even _half_ of those words. It certainly was not from him.

"Do you need a breather?" the captain asked.

"No." Pietro massaged his throat. "He did not strangle me long enough."

"And people wonder why he's still single," Iron Man remarked.

"Latveria is near Sokovia," Pietro said. His arms were trembling, but never his legs; they were fine. "He was so close. He could have come and rescued us at any time."

"You're definitely on time-out, Quicksilver."

"No, I am not."

He was pissed off.

First things first, he retrieved weapons again, returning them to their respective Avengers but jumping out of the way before they could grab him. Then he deliberately got himself surrounded with Doombots, hoping for—

There. The kill switch. Every robot went down, including the ones which had been off the ground.

"What if that gamble hadn't paid off?" Steve said, his voice tight.

"As Stark said, Doom is single," Pietro replied. "If he has been waiting for his soulmate, he will not let him die so soon."

"If you want to run, we'll take it from here."

"I am not a coward!"

"No one's suggesting you are," Wanda said.

"I will talk to him."

"Do you want me to…?"

"No." He waited where he was while Doom approached, not even a twitch from the surrounding Doombots. "This was meant to be. Let me talk to him."

"Pietro—"

"Leave it, Wanda. If I need to run, I will. He cannot catch up."

When Doom was only a few feet away, he stopped. Pietro just stared at him, waiting for the Latverian to make the first move. Doom smiled, and opened his mouth.

"Hell—"

Pietro's fist met his mouth. Doom covered it, swearing muffled. There was blood running under his hand, and Pietro shook his fist. A reflex action after his first few lessons in punching with the Black Widow.

"We were prisoners of von Strucker," he hissed. "Do you know how close Latveria is to Sokovia?" Doom glared at him over the top of his bloodied fingers. "Years there. I have heard of you, Victor von Doom, before today. You have dealt with von Strucker. _Made deals with him_. You have been his _friend_, all while knowing that he had innocents in his dungeon." Doom made some sound, an attempt at words, but it was garbled. "No, I will not hear anything you have to say. I wished my soulmate could rescue us, but you were happy to… _further _the experiments." He shook his head, backing up a few steps. "I hope I never see you again."

Then he ran from Doom, past still robots, past his sister and the Avengers, ran until he could run no more and the world became a blur around him. He staggered into a wall and sank to the ground, burying his head in his hands and swearing his way through three languages until he was no longer shaking.

"Aren't you an Avenger?"

Pietro looked up, and saw a couple of children in front of him. Slowly, he nodded. Their faces brightened.

"That's so cool!" the boy said. He and the girl sat on the ground in front of him. "Did you just fight someone?"

"Yes."

"Why are you here?" the girl asked. "Shouldn't you be with the others? Like your sister?"

"I needed to be alone," Pietro said.

"Why?"

"Because…" He couldn't tell them the truth of the matter, so he hedged. "I had a great shock. I wanted to get away, and… sometimes I forget my own speed." He looked around, frowning. "Where am I?"

"Richmond, Rhode Island."

He thought. "I was in Charlestown."

"Dude, don't you get blisters?" the boy said, his eyes wide. Pietro's stomach grumbled.

"Are you hungry?" the girl said. "Want takeaway? There's a place across the road."

"I will wait," he mumbled. His phone rang, and he sighed, fishing it out. He must have been out of range of the others if they could not get him on the comms. "Yes, Wanda?"

"Pietro, where _are_ you? It's been nearly twenty minutes!"

"…Richmond."

"Richmond?"

"We're twins, like you," the boy chimed in. Pietro half-smiled at him.

"I will meet you in New York after I have renewed my energy stores," he told his sister.

"Stark will meet you—"

"It will be faster if I run—"

"Pietro. He will meet you."

There was that tone. Pietro sighed.

"Very well," he said. "There is food nearby. I will purchase some. Can Stark trace my phone?"

"Yes."

"Then we will meet somewhere. Until later, Wanda."

"You will not ask about your soulmate?"

He pursed his lips, and inhaled through his nose.

"There is nothing to say," he said, and he hung up. Then he scrunched his hair between his fingers. A small hand landed on his arm, and he peeked up into large green eyes.

"Want us to buy you lunch?" she asked. He shook his head.

"I can afford it," he said. A new concept, but Stark was giving them an allowance until they could find paying work. "But I may need you to help me get there."

"Can you tell us all about the Avengers?" the boy said, helping Pietro stand.

"Perhaps," he said, getting his balance. He nodded. "I will tell you what I can."

"Come this way, Mr. Quicksilver," the girl said. Each twin grabbed one of his hands, and helped him cross the street without getting run over. He ordered a large amount of food for himself, and snacks for the children. Then he hurried through half of his meal. They stared at him until he slowed down, and then began to describe the battle.

"But you should see Dr. Banner when he makes a curry," he said, having moved on to their personal lives. "I do not know where he learnt it, but the spices he uses are exotic and sharp. He has an apron – I think Stark must have bought it for him – which says that cooking is science for hungry people, or something like that. And then he makes his own bread, but it is not plain bread. He uses seeds, or dried vegetables, sometimes fruit, but my favourite is the herbed bread with the melted cheese on top. It makes the most wonderful toasted sandwiches. We have it in front of the television on movie nights."

"What kinda movies d'you watch?" the boy – Liam – said. The girl was named Holly.

"Many different kinds," Pietro replied. "I love the fantasy ones. I like the Harry Potter films, of course, but my favourites are the epic fantasies. But not ones where good people die, not like the Lord of the Rings films. However, I do like dragons. Real-people movies are my favourites, although there is much to be said for Disney."

"Wow, you're a fast eater," Holly remarked.

"Dr. Banner said that I burn off food four times faster than most people. If I am to run back to New York, I must restore my energy reserves."

"You're not gonna run straight after eating, are you?" Liam said. "I get sick when I do that, `specially if I eat fast like you."

Pietro grinned. "No one eats as fast as me." His phone rang again. "Excuse me a moment." He answered it. "Wanda, I am eating."

"Actually, it's Iron Man."

"Oh, Mr. Stark."

"Tony. Only two syllables, Pietro. Work with me, here."

He frowned slightly. "Can I help you?"

"You're still in one place."

"It is called a fast food restaurant. Just right for me."

"Bring me a cheeseburger, would you?"

"Just one cheeseburger?"

"I use a suit to get around, not super speed. Actually, no cheeseburger. You'd run so fast it'd go cold."

"No cheeseburger, then?"

"Definitely not."

"Very well. Once I am finished here, I will be on my way."

"You don't wanna hear about Doom?"

He groaned. "No, I do _not_ wish to hear about him. I will ask when I get back, but no sooner." Then he jabbed the end call button and shoved the cell phone back into his pocket.

"Problems?" Holly asked.

"Have you…" 'Met your soulmate' was what he was going to say, but that would give away too much. "The time?"

"Yeah. It's nearly half past four."

He popped the last few fries into his mouth and swallowed them down. He finished his Coke, then threw out all his rubbish.

"I will return in a minute," he said, before heading to the bathroom.

In one of the stalls, he removed his right shoe, the sock made with material Stark and Banner had designed to reduce the impact of friction. His mark stood out, inky black contrasting the white of his skin, an indication of a non-platonic relationship. 'You're a fast one, Seabiscuit, aren't you?' He had researched everything he could on the racehorse, read the books, watched the films, listened to Steve's tales of hearing about the legend's surprise wins ("He beat Bing Crosby's horse!"). He even visited the statues.

Suffice it to say, he believed that it would be an affectionate comment from his soulmate, not a threat while he was being throttled. Pulling his sock and shoe back on, Pietro's shoulders slumped, and he almost forgot why he had come into the bathroom in the first place. He left the restaurant as soon as possible and began to run, even as his comm. unit began to pick up the signal again, following Stark's directions and ignoring remarks about breaking the sound barrier.

"Doom's in custody, by the way," Stark said conversationally. "Now that he's left medical. You really did a number on him. Romanov is proud of you."

"Quite a compliment," Pietro said. "Now be quiet."

Stark's version of being quiet was humming some song – no doubt heavy metal – instead of running his mouth off. Pietro gritted his teeth and kept running, trying to pay more attention to his surroundings than thoughts of his soulmate. Why Doom? Pietro and Wanda had sided with Ultron initially, but they were the good guys now. Why would he get Victor von Doom for a soulmate? Doom was born first, so why was Pietro created for him? What was he meant to do? If only he could ask his ancestors for the answer to this problem, but alas, no more.

He was nearly at the border when Iron Man landed in front of him. Pietro nearly ran into him, pulling up short just in time.

"Some warning?" he said.

"You wanted me to stop talking."

"About Doom!"

"He's in custody, like I said. Asking for you. He has to write it. Doesn't seem to bear a grudge, by the way, but then he did choke you, so I'd say breaking a few of his teeth makes you even. No one's sympathising with him. He'd better hope that Latveria's medical system is better than America's."

"Just take me home to Wanda," Pietro said wearily. "Please, Tony?"

Falling silent, the billionaire nodded, and helped Pietro step onto the suit's platform. He clung on tightly and tried to block the images from his mind, images of Doom in a hospital bed because of him, having to resort to writing, going back to Latveria…

No. Pietro could never go there. He would only ever think of von Strucker, and he and Wanda were trying to put that behind them. The 'scientist' was dead, they were free, and the labs were no more.

Free. He had to keep telling himself that.

"Doom won't get anywhere near you without your say-so," Stark said, just loud enough for Pietro to hear. The reception over the comms was perfectly clear now that they were in close proximity. "We'll make sure of that."

"I keep asking myself why I would be his soulmate."

"One day it'll make sense. Until then, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming…"

Pietro hit the back of the armour's head, and Stark chuckled.

* * *

"How long are we allowed to keep a dictator prisoner?" Clint asked, looking at Doom on the other side of the glass. He was chained to the hospital bed while dental surgeons worked on him.

"He has diplomatic immunity," Tony said. "That's the problem."

"Him being Quicksilver's soulmate is _also_ a problem."

"At least there were no casualties this time," Pepper said, leaning against the glass with her arms crossed. "That's in his favour."

"Pietro's meditating," Bruce said, walking up to them.

"Why?" Tony asked.

"He's trying to work out why he was made to be Doom's soulmate."

"It's a hell of a lot to take in, when you think about it," Clint said. "I don't know how I'd handle it."

"You'd be on the range, shooting it out."

"…Yeah, probably."

Doom was writing something on the whiteboard he'd been given. Then he tottered over to the window and showed them the writing: 'Let me take him to Latveria for one month to change his mind'. Tony wrote 'Dream on' on his tablet, and held it up to show Doom, who pursed his lips. He wrote 'ASK' underneath his other message. Tony tapped his own message. Doom erased 'ASK' and wrote 'PLEASE'. Tony sighed, and looked at Bruce.

"JARVIS, could you please tell Pietro what Doom is asking?" the doctor said.

"I have already informed him of the conversation, Dr. Banner. He is on his way down here."

Pietro arrived quickly, having taken the stairs, and stood beside Tony in front of the window. Doom change 'him' and 'his' on his message to 'you' and 'your' respectively, and Pietro gave it some thought before shaking his head. Doom seemed to wilt. He erased some of the message, wrote something else, and held it up. 'One month' had been changed to 'two weeks'. Pietro looked away and shrugged. Doom changed the message again, and tapped on the glass to get Pietro's attention: 'Let me take you to Latveria for one week to change your mind'.

Pietro sighed, glanced at them, and then slowly nodded. Doom brightened, although he still couldn't smile.

"I'm screwed, aren't I?" Pietro said as they took the elevator back to the common area.

"If not you're careful, that may become literal," Tony said. Clint elbowed him sharply. Pietro looked slightly terrified by the thought.

"No!" he said.

"Well, you're fast enough to kick him in the balls ten times in five seconds if he touches you inappropriately. And he can't talk you around at the moment. Gonna have his work cut out, in fact." Tony smirked. "This'll be good."

* * *

Wanda begged to go with Pietro, but he insisted that she stay with the Avengers. If he was to be spending a great deal of time with Doom, Wanda would serve no purpose there, other than as an additional worry for Pietro. If she was in Stark Tower, he knew she would be safe.

"It is only for a week, and then I will return home to you," he said.

"What if you stay there?" she said, smiling slyly. "What if your soulmate grows on you?"

"In a week? That is unlikely."

"Be careful, Pietro."

"I will, Wanda."

"Use protection."

He scowled at the innocent look on her face.

The scowl disappeared when Doom gave him a hand out of the Quinjet at his home in Latveria. Natasha and Clint had accompanied him so that they could check out the castle before allowing Pietro to stay there.

"It looks very clean," Pietro remarked. Doom was still restricted to writing, and scrawled on a pad of paper: 'The past two days have been spent tidying for your stay'. "Thank you. It was unnecessary."

Doom arched an eyebrow, and wrote: 'Not for my soulmate'.

The first of his seven days there, he was given a guided tour of the castle and the grounds, and was even driven into town to admire the scenery. It was a very cold place, but it looked pleasant, and people were smiling and industrious. They waved enthusiastically at their ruler, and Pietro tried to sink back. Doom rested his hand beside Pietro's on the seat between them, fingers 'casually' brushing, but made no move to touch any more than that. Dinner was liquid for Doom, a lavish roast for Pietro, who couldn't eat all of it, not least because he felt slightly guilty that Doom couldn't enjoy the same. At his bedroom door – next to Doom, but the connecting door was locked, and only Pietro had the key – he paused, unsure of what to do. Doom wrote 'Good night'.

"Good night," Pietro replied. He thought he felt a finger run down the side of his arm, but when he looked down Doom's hand was by his side. Unnerved, he hurried into his bedroom and locked the door. He checked the one between their rooms, and that was locked as well. Thank goodness.

The second day, Doom took Pietro to the Latverian Museum, to learn more about their culture and history. Fortunately they were able to have a private tour with a knowledgeable guide, since Doom couldn't expound on the history at length without running out of paper and ink. He kept a respectful distance in public (most of the time), and then took him shopping after a light lunch in the car while driving around more of the countryside. Pietro objected to how much his soulmate was spending on him, when they met only a few days before, but Doom waved it off.

Pietro wasn't sure how he was supposed to take everything back to America with him, looking askance at the multitude of bags and boxes in his room.

The next day began with brunch (Pietro had never had that before) at the best viewpoint in all of Latveria. Doom's servants had prepared the food, and the guards were far enough away that it did not feel intrusive. Pietro almost wished it was, so it would feel less like a… date. On the other hand, Doom was supposed to be convincing Pietro to accept him as a bond partner. It… was not too bad, he supposed, although his experiences in dating came to nil.

Doom passed him a note: 'It's not too cold for you?'

"I am used to the cold," Pietro said. "…Thank you."

Doom nodded, and returned to admiring the view. Pietro did the same, privately agreeing that the land was stunning. If he was an artist like Steve, he would try to draw it, but his creative abilities did not lie in that direction.

After they returned to the castle, they spent the afternoon in the library, Pietro reading more of the history of Latveria and trying to ignore the looks he kept getting from his soulmate. Post-dinner, they watched the news, and Doom kept slipping notes to Pietro making quips about the items, the newsreaders, the adverts; things which made Pietro snort in suppressed laughter and made Doom's lips twitch.

Before bedtime, Pietro sang while he showered. It relaxed him, reminded him of when he was a child. When he returned to his bedroom, he found a note which had been pushed under the connecting door.

'I hope you'll sing for me one day, Pietro.'

On the fourth day, Pietro accompanied Doom to medical, where the ruler (_He is a dictator_, Pietro reminded himself) was having further dental surgery. Pietro felt somewhat responsible for it… very well, he _was_ responsible for it, but he felt guilty when he really should not have. Doom was the _bad_ guy. Something he couldn't afford to forget if he ever wanted to go home and not… bond with Latveria's monarch.

"You are his soulmate?" a doctor asked. Pietro nodded. "He has given you permission to remain in here while we keep him under heavy sedation."

"…Really?"

"And he asked me to give you this."

Pietro read the note: 'Sing for me?' He sighed, and then nodded.

"Very well," he said.

* * *

Doom still did not speak until the evening of their sixth night. Tomorrow was the last chance for him to convince Pietro to stay, and showing him scenery and books was one thing, but it was hardly the most romantic… not that Pietro wanted that. He was simply surprised that it took this long for Doom to make a move.

"I'd ask if I could kiss you, but I must be careful what I do with my mouth," Doom said, looking Pietro up and down while they lounged in front of the television, some Latverian soap opera playing in the background. Pietro noticed the way Doom's gaze lingered on certain parts of his body, and the thoughts of his mouth being _on_ those places made Pietro blush.

"I apologise," he said, unable to look his soulmate in the eye.

"May I touch you?"

"W-what?"

Doom shifted closer, and Pietro noticed the hungry look on his face.

"May I touch you the way I would if we kissed?"

"I…"

"As soon as I do something you do not like, you must tell me. But may I…?"

Pietro's heart was thumping and there was an unfamiliar feeling in his stomach. Yet he moved closer until he was right beside Doom, and nodded.

"Gently," he whispered.

"I know I'm stronger than most. I'll be careful."

The first touch was to Pietro's left cheek, turning his head to face Doom. The man's gaze was focussed on Pietro's lips, making him lick them nervously under the attention. Doom moaned softly, and he leaned close enough to brush their noses together. Pietro closed his eyes. It was so much. He nearly jumped when Doom's other hand touched his waist. His hand was large and warm, and his thumb rubbed circles over the fabric of Pietro's shirt.

Doom's nose moved to Pietro's cheek, nuzzled him, and he tipped Pietro's head to the side to run his nose down Pietro's neck, so lightly it almost tickled, but in a different way. Pietro's breathing sped up as Doom sneaked his fingers into Pietro's hair and combed it softly. The hand on his waist pulled him closer until Pietro was resting in the crook of Doom's elbow, trembling as he felt lips on his neck. He shuddered, and Doom paused.

"Do you wish me to stop?" he murmured.

"N-no. Keep g-going."

"I can feel your pulse racing beneath my lips." Pietro felt teeth nip a spot on his neck that made him jerk where he sat.

"My God!" he hissed.

"Pietro…"

He reached out with his right hand and found a knee. He squeezed it. "Do not stop."

Doom dropped his right hand to Pietro's stomach, which contracted in surprise at the touch. Doom nuzzled down Pietro's throat to the V of his shirt while his hand strolled up under the fabric. Pietro whined, arching against his soulmate's hand. It held him in place, and he looked down at Doom, who met his eyes and gave him a small smile. Then he glanced down, his thumb teasing Pietro's navel.

"If I continue in this fashion, I'll end up taking you here," he said.

"Mmm."

"You must have time to decide whether this is what you truly want, Pietro," Doom said, raising his head.

"Victor…"

He smiled. "I like the way you say my name."

"I like the way you say mine."

"Tomorrow is your last full day in Latveria. This time tomorrow night, give me your answer. My car is at your disposal, but I'll stay away from you for the next twenty-four hours so you can keep a clear head." He removed his hands from Pietro and drew back.

"You will not kiss me?"

Doom shook his head, and stood up. "I'd never be unable to stop. Good night, Pietro."

He watched Doom leave the room. On the television, two characters discovered they were soulmates. They moved into each other's arms almost immediately, embraced passionately, and within a minute they were in bed, moving together in a way which made it obvious what they were doing. There was a warm light where their soulmarks met, and he wondered how the special effects people did that.

When he showered, Pietro realised that he was still tingling all over, concentrated where Doom had touched him. Merely thinking about it caused him to be overcome with pleasure and brought him to his knees. He knelt there, panting, reeling with amazement that such a thing was possible. He didn't even touch himself.

"My God," he whispered again.

* * *

On the seventh day, he called Wanda to catch up with what had been happening in America. She was more interested in what was happening in Latveria.

"Have you made a decision yet?" she asked.

"But… we already knew that I would—"

"We want you to be happy, brother. If you can only be happy with your soulmate—"

"No, Wanda, of course not. I could be happy with you. I… I _am_ happy with you. You are my sister."

"But I am not your soulmate," she said. "Has he made clear his intentions?"

Pietro cleared his throat. "It would not be a platonic bond."

"He was devouring you with his eyes, Pietro. That is clear to all of us."

"I have until this evening to tell him."

"And what will you tell him?" she asked.

"That I…"

"Yes?"

He shook his head. "I do not know."

"Some part of you knows what you want. You must find that part, Pietro. Only then will you know."

After the conversation, he felt lonely again. Doom hadn't even spoken to him for most of the week. How could Pietro possibly be missing his presence? It was like something was eating away at him, leaving a growing hole in his sternum. He only felt better when he was closer to Doom, something he could sense walking through the castle. Secluding himself in his bedroom, he searched the internet for anything he could find on soulmates, _anything_ to explain such a strong pull between soulmates who hadn't even bonded.

When he realised what it meant, he shut down the computer and retreated to his bed to meditate until the evening.

Doom looked up when Pietro entered the room. He was pale, and looked down at his hands while Pietro sat next to him.

"You know, don't you?" Pietro said.

"What your answer will be? I suspect."

"I was not referring to that. I was referring to the unnaturally strong pull."

Doom still wouldn't make eye contact with him. "Are you a virgin?"

Pietro flushed red. "Yes."

"You'll feel it more."

He frowned, and moved further away. He noticed the way Doom unconsciously swayed in his direction, and snorted softly.

"You do not feel it, then?" he asked. Doom frowned, and straightened up.

"I didn't say that," he said.

"Are _you _a virgin?"

"…No."

"It _is_ possible," Pietro said. "There are other cases. Soulmates who only need to touch intimately, not even kiss, to feel as though they are bonded. Such soulmateships—"

"But it won't matter when you are in America," Doom said, standing. He strode to the other side of the room. Pietro stared at him.

"You are sending me away from you?" he asked. Doom looked back over his shoulder.

"Surely you prefer to return to your sister?" he said.

"I _prefer_…" Pietro hurried to Doom's side. "To stay." He slipped his hand into Doom's, twined their fingers together. "With you, Victor. Fate… isn't just telling us we belong with each other. She is _screaming_ it at us."

"Pietro—"

"I _hated_ you," he said. "Before I even knew who you were. It was unfair of me, but the person who came to rescue us was not my soulmate, or Wanda's, and we… were grateful for his… its help. And then to find that you were the man we were fighting…"

"I'm so sorry, Pietro."

He walked around in front of Doom and cupped the back of his neck.

"It is bad luck to fight Fate," he said.

"Do you really believe that?"

"I believe that you have the potential to be a good man, Victor."

"Pietro…"

"And I am fairly certain I will not survive another twenty-four hours without being bonded to you. So will you take me to bed?"

In answer, Doom swept Pietro into his arms.

* * *

**Some trivia about Seabiscuit: his trainer's surname was **_**Fitzsimmons**_**, and he won his first races at Narragansett Park in **_**Rhode Island**_**. Yep. Didn't know that before I chose that state for the setting of the battle. Bearing in mind I know nothing about the geography of America. (Hell, I barely know the geography of my home town. What hope do I have with other countries?)**

**Pairing requested by MO-5431. I'm convinced that you people are strange, but I did my best, as usual.**

**Please review!**


	76. Unholy Trinity (BR x SB x GW, CZ x PC)

**Note: I came up with this idea awhile back, so it's non-canon in that Bakshi and Ward never met, and Bakshi escaped some other way. Hand-wave it. Basically anything from… I guess, episode 10 of season 2 onwards?**

"Unholy Trinity"

"You must come with me, Agent Skye," Bakshi said, stalking after her. She'd used up the rest of her ammunition on the other HYDRA agents she'd encountered.

"Why?" she said.

"I have someone who is interested in meeting you."

"If it's my dad, you're outta luck," she replied. "Already met him."

"Someone else, actually," he said.

Skye just had to get to the door at the other end of this building. The end was in sight. She began to run…

And nearly ran into someone else she recognised from their files of known HYDRA agents.

"Brock Rumlow," she muttered. "Crap."

"This one's mine, I'm afraid," Bakshi said when he also noticed Rumlow. Skye was trapped between them. If she ran one way or the other, they could still probably catch her. Her best hope was to play them off against one another.

Then she noticed Rumlow's stunned smile.

"Or we could always share her," he said. Bakshi gasped softly.

"What a day of surprises," he said. Rumlow raised his shirt, and Skye noticed a soulmark.

Wait. Oh, _shit_. If she was lucky, they'd be too caught up in each to notice her running.

…Yeah, except Rumlow was head of STRIKE. Bakshi would be easier to take down, and she certainly knocked him to the floor long enough to make a break back the way she'd come, since she sure as hell wasn't risking a confrontation with Rumlow. Nearly there, nearly there…

"Skye? There you are."

"Oh, for the love of _God_!" she shouted. "Ward, seriously? Well, that's just the icing on the cake, isn't it? Now my day is complete."

"I heard you were in trouble," he said earnestly, stepping closer to her. She backed off a step, and glanced to where Bakshi and Rumlow were approaching her, Rumlow especially looking pissed. Probably because Skye had knocked over his soulmate.

"Yeah, attempted kidnappings," she said. Ward scowled at the two HYDRA agents.

"Which of you bothered her first?" he asked. Bakshi's jaw dropped, and he looked up at Rumlow, whose eyes had widened.

…No. Not possible.

"Is she with you?" Rumlow asked. He elbowed Bakshi.

"We'll play nice if you will," Bakshi said. Skye noticed the surprise on Ward's face.

"You're my soulmates," he said, staring at them. There was a small smile at the corner of his lips. "My soulmates."

This was so not Skye's day. She bolted past Ward, definitely not prepared to take on all three men, especially since Ward would end up on their side, and screw SHIELD.

Actually, _now_ her day was complete.

"Daisy," Cal said, running out of the room where she'd been held captive for half an hour. "You escaped."

"Now's not the time," she said. "And the name is _Skye_."

"Skye," he said, falling into step beside her. "Why are you running?"

"Because I've pissed off the three men coming after me, who all happen to be each other's soulmates, and they probably all want to kidnap me on different people's orders, and now is _really_ not the time to be talking about… whatever it is you wanna talk about."

"Your powers, D… Skye."

"Yeah, sure," she said. She glanced over her shoulder, the sound of footsteps getting closer. "Get me outta here in one piece, and then we can talk."

"Really?" He looked and sounded so hopeful that she sighed.

"Yeah, really," she said.

They burst out into the sunshine soon enough, only having to fight off a couple more agents who were supposed to be kidnapping Skye as well. Why the hell was she suddenly so popular?

"Have you found your soulmate yet?" Cal asked as he led Skye to a car, which she really hoped was his.

"Not yet," she said. "Was Mom your…"

"She was," he said, sliding into the driver's seat. Skye climbed into the passenger's seat, and barely had time to buckle up before they were off, Cal driving like the devil was at their heels. Probably not far off, considering who was pursuing them.

"So she's dead?"

He pursed his lips. "It's complicated. She died, my mark died with her, and I didn't gain a new one until recently."

"What changed?"

"Which direction are we going?"

Skye fiddled with her phone. "Left in half a mile. What changed?"

"I've been trying."

He didn't continue, and she looked at him. "Trying to do what?"

"Change. For you." He blinked rapidly. "I don't want to be the monster you h-have nightmares about."

"So, what, anger management course?" she said. "Chill pills? Help me out here, Dad."

He beamed, glancing at her. "You called me 'Dad'."

"Watch the road! We're not in a Hollywood movie, we might _actually_ end up in an accident if you don't keep an eye out."

He laughed as she thumped her head against the head-rest. "You're safe with me, D… Skye."

"At least Daisy is better than the name the orphanage gave me. But it's Skye. I'm not using another name ever again. I'm too used to this one."

"You look like a Skye. But you were born a Daisy."

She leaned against the window. "Thanks, I guess."

"Which direction now?"

She studied her phone. "Not far before we meet the others. So." She tucked her phone away again. "Stop trying to distract me. You said it was complicated."

"Your mother has a remarkable ability to keep coming back to life."

Skye processed that for a minute.

"She's alive?" she said.

"And with her soulmate now. I don't think she trusts me."

"But… can I see her?"

"One day, maybe."

"So what about you? How come you ended up with a new one?"

"I don't know what changed. I tried chanting, I tried vitamins, I tried fight club. They threw me out of the last one."

She'd seen the way he 'handled' the agents they'd come across. "I can imagine."

"It wasn't until I let go of my anger, and changed my focus, that I got my new soulmark."

"Good for you," she said.

"Only grey, not black. No one can ever replace my first family," Cal said.

"Even though Mom's with someone else?"

"Even though," he murmured.

"Is your soulmark a bad one?"

"It isn't just 'Hello', if you were wondering."

"Yeah, but are you one of those people who thinks it's bad luck to tell someone else what your soulmark says?" Skye pressed.

"Not between family members," he said. "It's common, especially since parents see if their child is born with the mark."

"Yeah, but you weren't born with this one," she said. He thought about it, and then sighed.

"My new words are 'I hope you come in peace'," he said. "I took it as a sign that…"

"That what?"

"I needed to keep my allegiances open."

"So…" She frowned. "If you find your soulmate, you'll be on _their_ side, even if it's not my side?"

"_Nothing_ is more important to me than you, Daisy," he said. Okay, that was clearly going to be a hard habit to break. Maybe she should just take 'Daisy' as her code name.

"That's cool… I guess," she said.

"You know I've done bad things, but they've _all_ been for you, D… Skye."

"I inspire people to do horrible things, it seems," she said, thinking about Ward's promises and declarations. Then she thought about his soulmates, and shuddered. "And now I'm gonna have nightmares about the unholy trinity coming after me."

"They won't dare touch you while I'm around," he said fiercely. There was that rage she was terrified of, but not for her sake.

"You're not gonna go after Coulson again, are you?" she asked. His lips thinned at the name. "Jeez, he's my boss. Like a father to me, yeah, but… oh. That's the problem."

"_I'm_ your father."

"A girl can have more than one father, you know. Or… okay, call him an honorary uncle or something. But he's been my rock when I needed one. May isn't the type who gives you emotional support, FitzSimmons had each other when I met them, and Ward turned out to be a creepy creeper who was on HYDRA's side all along. Just… don't blame Coulson. I searched for you for so long, and he became what I needed when I thought you were both dead. The person I turned to when I didn't have you or my mother."

"And when you thought I was a monster," he said. She noticed that the steering wheel was getting squashed under the pressure, and tentatively touched his arm. He relaxed.

"Everyone does bad things," she said. "At least you acted… for not-bad reasons. If that doesn't sound narcissistic."

He chuckled again. "I think you got my sense of humour."

"Pretty sure I didn't get your medical skills." She looked down at her phone again, and her eyes widened. "Okay, you need to stop _now_."

"Why…? Oh." The grass nearby was blowing like crazy, and the cloaking on the bus disappeared as it landed in front of them.

"Just stick by me," she said. "You'll… have to be confined."

"I understand," he said, looking grim. "I try not to get angry, but what I made myself… I can't always help it."

"Like Bruce Banner, except you don't turn into a big green… person."

He raised his eyebrows at her deliberate avoidance of the word 'monster'. But he stayed by her side, even as she looked back and saw another car hurtling along the road towards them.

One of those days.

She led him to the bus, grabbing his wrist as they ran. No sense in letting anyone think that he was running after her and shooting him down. It probably wouldn't work, anyway. They hurried up the ramp, and it closed before the unholy trinity – yep, she was definitely calling them that – could open fire.

"Skye?" Coulson said. She smoothed down her hair, and finally let go of her father's wrist.

"He saved me," she said. "I figured we may as well bring him along for the ride."

Coulson looked him over. "I hope you come in peace," he said, arching an eyebrow.

Skye's head swivelled from one man to the other, Coulson looking confused and Cal looking mildly terrified. She poked him, hard, and he gave her a reprimanding look that made her feel about six years old.

"Don't say anything weird or inappropriate," she whispered. He squared his shoulders and looked at Coulson, who was now giving Skye strange looks as well.

"As long as you have need of me," he said.

Coulson's jaw dropped. "You…?"

"He doesn't plan to kill you anymore, which helps," Skye said. "Though you might wanna avoid arguments anyway. Hey." She nudged her father softer this time, and he looked at her. "I told you a girl could have two dads."

She grinned as she walked past Coulson. Figures. Her biological father and her father figure were now soulmates.

…Crap. She'd have to learn how to go crying to one if the other wasn't letting her do something technically against the rules. She'd have to ask… well, not Jemma. She'd never broken a rule in her life until she met Skye. May! May would definitely know how to manipulate parents.

* * *

**I may still write Bakshi/Rumlow at some point, because the idea tickles me, but here. Have Unholy Trinity. And the_elusive_muse and 1_The_Purple_Donkey_1 both requested Cal/Phil, so don't lambast me for unrealistic pairings. Look at the previous chapter for another example.**

**Please review! Author needs to know that she hasn't completely lost it. (Only partially.)**


	77. Play for Me (Fitz x Rhodey)

**Note: Spoilers for latest episode (S02E17), specifically the stinger.**

"Play for Me"

"How long has it been since you played piano, Fitz?"

He looked up, startled. "Wha—?"

"How long has it been?" Coulson repeated.

"Oh, uh… I think once or twice since I left Scotland?"

"Would you be able to pick it up again?"

Leo looked at Hunter, who shrugged. "Sir?"

"There's an ad for someone to play piano for demonstrations in a shopping mall," the director clarified, placing a newspaper clipping in front of Leo. "Seems to be a meeting place for HYDRA agents, but only for the last few weeks."

"So… what, you want me to play piano and do re… uh, recon a-at the same time?"

Coulson tilted his head. "More like plant a few bugs for us, work out whether the security cameras can be hacked. The audition's being held at the mall, so you only have to be able to play long enough to do this. You don't have to get the job, just not get sent off after thirty seconds."

"I… I don't know. My hands…"

"Shouldn't it just be muscle memory?" Hunter said.

"N-not necessarily."

"It'll look less suspicious," Coulson said. "And hey, if you get the job, that's great! It's only for a few hours, an hour for the morning trade, an hour and a half for the lunch trade, and then half an hour in the afternoon."

"It would take time away from my work…"

"Fitz. The occasional break won't do you any harm."

Leo slumped in his chair. "Alright. I'll knock up some bugs and take them along with me."

"We'd better disguise you first."

He stared at the hair dye and clippers. "Oh, _hell_ no."

"You've already got blue eyes," Coulson said. "Give you blond hair, get you to smile more, and you'll be a regular Shirley Temple."

"I'm not going blond! I'd look _terrible_ as a blond! And how many blond pianists can you name? Uh-huh, see?"

"I can't name _any_ pianists, Fitz."

"Yeah, well, they've generally got _darker_ hair," he mumbled.

"Good thing we've got other dyes." He put more on the table in front of Leo, who glared at him.

"I hate you."

"Cheer up, mate," Hunter said, grinning at him. "Maybe you won't get the job? The dye's only temporary. You'll be back to normal in no time."

* * *

His hair was more bristly than curly now, and Coulson had given him the closest shave in the history of man. He could still feel remnants of panic, because Coulson used a _blade_, not a _safety razor_ like most intelligent people. It'd taken promises of very strong liquor afterwards, which he gladly accepted from Hunter.

"Are you auditioning?"

Leo looked up, and nodded at the man with forms. He filled his out swiftly, handed it in, and made note of all the visible security cameras while he waited for his name to be called.

"Jim Spears?"

"That's me," he said, proud that he didn't even pause. He hid his shaking hands in his pockets until he reached the piano. Once he was sitting, he gave his legs a moment to de-jellify themselves, and then touched the keys.

Everything came back to him. Without prompting, his hands went straight to 'Wedding Day at Troldhaugen', from the light-hearted opening and its intense passages, to the calmer bridge, and back to the lightness of the first part of the piece. Six minutes flew by, and he struck the last chord soundly without even realising that he'd reached the end of the piece until he registered the applause. He looked up slowly, and around, and then tried to slink off the stool. The manager, Alistair, stopped him.

"Wanna play something else for us?" he asked.

"I can… I can do something simpler. I know folk stuff. A-and golden, uh, g-golden oldies. Or 'Well-Tempered Clavier'?"

"Can you play something more complex than Baroque?"

Leo smiled. "Do you like Grieg?"

"Hell yeah."

He turned back to the keys. "Only the first movement. I don't want to, uh, waste time or anything…"

"Nonsense, Jim!" He was nearly bent over the keyboard by the slap to his back. "Go ahead and play."

It was probably ambitious to try Grieg's first piano concerto, but damned if he was going to stop himself when his hands were steady. His fingers bounced up to the top of the keys, then jumped down more rapidly until he reached the bass, before running up again…

He stopped after 'Well-Tempered Clavier', which he could still play with his eyes closed. Then he was sent away with a "We'll call you" and an enthusiastic handshake. He met Coulson and Hunter in the food court. They were staring at him.

"I knew you had it down as a hobby," Coulson said. "I had no idea you were a virtuoso."

"Not… not _that_ good—"

"You bloody were," Hunter said. "Christ, mate, talk about light under a bushel."

Leo shrugged. "Can we go now?"

"Sure," Coulson said. "We'll talk back at HQ. Come on. Hey, we recorded the whole thing."

"Oh great, so I can critique myself later," he muttered. "Perfect."

"You were, mate," Hunter said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You absolutely were."

* * *

Long story short, while Leo watched the recording and bitched about his technique having 'gone to the dogs' – "I've really let myself go, my mum would be appalled" – Coulson laid out a map of the shopping centre and all the cameras they'd been able to locate.

"Seems that the mall's owner has a connection to HYDRA, because we found a few drop points, not to mention several hidden cameras on each floor."

"Thing is," Lance said, "your playing was a great distraction. D'you know how many people stopped what they were doing to go and watch, or just listen? Even if you don't get the job, and they get someone who can play half as well as you, it's enough to draw a crowd. More faces for the cameras, fewer people elsewhere."

"The pianos aren't going to be there forever," Leo said.

"But it might be long enough for our purposes," Coulson said. "Fitz, if you get the job, take it."

"Alright, but you'll have to get me used to answering to Jim Spears."

"If you trip up, pretend you're lost in the music," Hunter suggested.

"Not that hard to do."

"That was the third time you've played piano since you left Scotland when you were a teenager?" Coulson said.

"Uh, yeah. You were right. Muscle memory. Though practise would help. I wouldn't want to rely… but then it depends on whether I get the job. I mean, I probably won't. There'll be loads of people out there who can—"

"Got it covered," Coulson said. He hauled a box out of a shopping bag. "Bought this for you. Eighty-eight keys. More portable than a real piano."

"You bought me a roll-up keyboard," Leo said, staring at it.

"Just in case it helps."

"It…" He took it from Coulson. "It might. Thank you. I'll be careful with it."

* * *

_Four weeks later_

Jim Spears was a regular attraction at the shopping centre. He had his own little fan club, mainly senior citizens who met up on a regular basis, but apparently there was also a Facebook page, and he was thankful for his pretty pitiful disguise. It kept him safe…r.

"This is the piano guy?"

"Not the owner, just the demonstrator," he said, not looking up as he finished 'Puttin' on the Ritz'. "You interested in buying a piano?"

"Kinda need to replace my old one after… breaking it." Leo looked up, wondering how the hell someone could refer to breaking a piano so casually… and realised who he was staring at. After he'd picked his jaw up off the floor, he swivelled around on the stool and stared at Tony Stark.

"Oh. My. God," he said. Stark scoffed.

"Got a real god on our team," he said. "But sure, if you were involved in science I might be—"

"Your work in the area of robotics is absolutely inspiring," Leo said, nearly bouncing in place. "I have a-an interest myself, and some of my early designs… well, when I was nine, anyway, if we're considering that early, but I still won the science fair that year, and my early projects were named after you, and oh God this is starting to sound creepy I'll shut up now."

Bright red, he sat back down at the piano while Stark stared at him.

"Huh," he said.

"Is it true that an artificial intelligence runs your tower?" Leo asked. He couldn't stop himself, but he winced as soon as the question left his mouth. Stark cocked his head, his eyes narrowing.

"Where did you hear that?" he asked.

"Rumours, you know. Mainly listened because it's you, and… yeah, I'd better get back to playing. Still got ten minutes. So sorry. If you want to buy a piano, my boss is over there."

"Business must be booming," Stark said. "Heard about you, and finally convinced my best friend to let me come down among the common people and hear you in person."

"Uh-huh?" Leo fidgeted, trying to recall something which would take less than ten minutes. He settled on some of Satie's 'Gymnopédies', since they weren't terribly complicated, and half-smiled at the man who hurried up to Stark.

"Should've known you'd come straight here, instead of waiting at the information booth like you _told_ me you were going to," he scolded. Leo tried not to get distracted, and thank God his hands knew to keep playing, because if he didn't know these pieces for memory he'd have gotten lost for sure.

"Rhodey, honeybear, I wanted to hear Jim play," Stark said.

"And I'll bet you interrupted him as well."

"Said he likes robotics. And now he's trying not to stare at you. Yeah, you. He wasn't side-eyeing _me _like that, and who wouldn't side-eye me?"

"Someone with taste?"

Leo snorted, and was glad to reach the end of the first piece. He'd have to find something he could give more attention to, so he wouldn't be caught ogling Colonel Rhodes. _War Machine_ was right there, beside _Iron Man_. He must've been dreaming.

"Kid," Stark said. "When's your gig end?"

"Uh, I've not got long before the end of this shift, and then I'm done for the day," Leo said. Done at the piano, anyway. There was always something to do for Coulson, and today that included picking up a fresh loaf of bread, after the last one was sacrificed in some experiment which was supposed to be French toast, and… turned out wrong. To say the least.

"I mean the pianos." Stark rapped his knuckles against the top of one beside him. "Not gonna be here forever. Got anywhere else to go after this? I mean, you can't be earning all that much."

"Some things are worth more than money," Leo said defensively. "M-music is one of them."

"And what's another?" Stark said, making eye contact over the top of his glasses. Leo looked right back.

"Science," he said. He glanced at the clock. "Only a few minutes left. If you'll excuse me, I need to finish. Tomorrow's my last day, so." He shrugged. "I'll have to make it good for my regulars."

"Rhodey here likes music," Stark said, elbowing the colonel, who rolled his eyes. "He'll be heartbroken that we got here so late. We'll have to come back tomorrow."

"Not exactly a safe thing to do, Tony," Rhodes said.

"Do you take requests, kid?"

"I c-can do," Leo said. "But I don't know whether it's your type of music." Rhodes tilted his head, smiling.

"Why don't you play something for me, then?" he asked.

"Rhodey's tastes are more conservative," Stark said, like that was a bad thing. But that's not what Leo was focussing on. He was focussing on the words. His words.

"Would you like an intermezzo?" he said to Colonel Rhodes. The man's jaw dropped, and so did Stark's, before he grinned.

"Told you it was a good idea to come here, didn't I?" he said, elbowing Rhodes, who quickly cleared his throat.

"Yeah, whatever you wanna play," he said. "Your favourite."

"My favourite," Leo echoed. He turned back to the keys, his heart racing, and played the intermezzo from _Cavalleria Rusticana_. He received plenty of applause at the end, and realised that, shy as he was, he'd miss this after tomorrow. Apparently piano sales had quadrupled on the previous year thanks to him. He'd received free sheet music along with his agreed-upon earnings. But he'd miss making people happy like this, _and_ having an excellent reason to play piano every day. If he played after this, it would be on a roll-up keyboard, and only when there was time.

"Time for you to clock off, kid," Alistair said. "Good work today, Jim."

"Thank you, sir," Leo said. Stark snorted.

"That'll be interesting," he said. "Both of you with the same first name."

Leo coughed, and stood up. He bowed to his fan club, who were all crying. Probably thanks to the intermezzo. Damn Mascagni for writing it. One of Leo's favourites, and enough to reduce anyone to tears.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Rhodes asked. Leo realised he was being addressed, and nodded.

"I'll just get my things, and be with you in a moment," he said, scurrying for the 'staff section' of the fenced display. He could barely string two sensible thoughts together, and nearly had a heart attack when his phone rang. "H-hello?"

"Were you just talking to Tony Stark?"

"Hi, sir," Leo said. "Yeah. About music. And his friend Colonel Rhodes is…" He lowered his voice. "My soulmate."

"…Fuck."

"I'll pretend you didn't just say that. Sorry, but I've got to go. I'll check back in as soon as I can."

He hung up and stowed his phone in his music bag, before slinging it over his shoulder and approaching Rhodes and Stark.

"I'm ready to go," he said.

"Great!" Stark said. "You're drinking age, right?"

"Yeah."

"Of course he is, Tony, you know when I got my mark," Rhodes said, punching Stark on the shoulder.

"I was drunk at the time. I don't even remember where we were."

Leo allowed himself to be steered through the shopping centre. They were about to pass the bakery when he remembered.

"Oh! I just have to get a loaf of bread. We've run out." He hurried to the counter, followed by Rhodes.

"'We'?" he said.

"Yeah, well, I don't live alone," Leo said. "Like Mr. Stark said, not earning much here. I couldn't afford to live by myself unless it was in a hovel, not on what I make playing the piano for a few hours a day." He picked out a loaf and half a dozen sweet rolls, and paid for them, before thanking the baker politely.

"Do you have any other work?" Rhodes asked.

"I'm, uh, I'm a scientist."

"I can't escape them! I hope you're easier to look after than the disasters at the tower."

"That sounds ominous."

"You're about to find out just how bad," Stark said. "We're taking you there."

"What?"

"So you can meet the rest of the team!"

"Tony, no," Rhodes said.

"I'm trying to find a Jim Spears involved with science," Stark said, running his fingers over the screen of his tablet. Or StarkPad, if the rumours about the new product were true.

"It's… it's my stage name," Leo said. "Not my real name."

"Thank God for that, or calling you 'Jim' in certain situations could sound really narcissistic," Rhodes said. "So what's your real name?"

"L—" His phone rang, and he answered it with an apologetic smile. Saved by the ring-tone. "I told you I'd call back when I could. Oh, I've got the bread."

"We need you back here _now_, Fitz. Something big has come up."

"You're kidding me."

"I'm not."

"But—"

"Don't worry, we'll be there tomorrow. Along with God knows how many HYDRA operatives. Seems like the people at the centre are going to be used as test subjects for their latest destructive experiment."

Leo swore. "I'll be there soon."

"We're waiting outside. I'm in the backseat so I can hide. Hunter's driving."

"God help us all." He hung up, and sighed. Then he smiled bitterly at Rhodes. "I'll be here tomorrow, but… there's an emergency. I have to go. Meet me before I start in the morning?"

"Yeah, okay," Rhodes said, frowning. Leo hesitated, then darted forward and kissed him on the lips, before hurrying through the crowd and to the front doors. Jesus, he hoped that wasn't out of line. Well, if it drove him away, it was probably best for both of them.

Hunter was indeed outside, window down and scowling. Leo leapt into the passenger seat, greeting both of them as he buckled himself in, and glanced back in time to see Rhodes and Stark both emerge from the shopping centre as they drove off.

"HYDRA isn't just going to use biological weapons, similar to the ICER-based gas used on our base, but they've still got supers on their side," Coulson said. "Mike's going to be with us, and I managed to get a message to May. Simmons will send a formula to us which should nullify the effects of most harmful gases, in case we can't stop it in time, and General Talbot's been informed that the army may be needed."

"Do we have gas masks?" Leo said. "I know I can't wear one, probably couldn't get to my bag in time to grab one if I stowed it there. But if you two are safe…"

"May will bring whatever she can and meet us outside just after the shops open. We don't know when HYDRA's planning to strike."

"Um… Colonel Rhodes will be there. Which means that Iron Man might be. And… possibly the others, after they find out that I'm his… you know…"

"Good job scoring Iron Patriot as your soulmate, by the way," Hunter said, tipping the neck of his beer towards Leo. "Kudos."

"It's not something I _planned_, Hunter."

"No, but you've gotta admit that you got lucky in the soulmate department."

Leo pointed a finger at Coulson without even looking at him. "And not a _word_ about it being useful. I will _not_ do that to my soulmate."

"Understood," Coulson said, a hint of mope in his voice.

* * *

Without a clue of when the biological attack was supposed to take place, or any attack at all, Leo could only keep his bag near his feet and start the day with 'March of the Dwarves' (which made him wish Jemma was there). He played some jazz and classic musicals, a lullaby when a group of mums with toddlers were nearby, as well as anything else he could think of to fill in time. He wanted to end the day with the first movement of Tchaikovsky's first piano concerto, but chances were that it wouldn't happen.

"Here's some Disney for the lunchtime crowd," Alistair told him, putting a spiral-bound set of music on the piano stand. Leo nodded. "You're doing great, Jim."

"Thanks, sir."

"Go have your break."

He nodded, and trotted off to the food court, wondering when Colonel Rhodes would turn up. Surely it had to be sometime soon? They were supposed to be meet beforehand, but there'd been no sign of Leo's soulmate. Were they mistaken? Had something terrible happened? Damn it. His early lunch was like ashes in his mouth, and his drink was tasteless. Until he knew why Rhodes hadn't shown, he was going to worry about it. The only way to avoid trembling hands was to find something complex to play. Hopefully Disney would fit that bill.

Half an hour into the lunch programme, there'd been an increase in the crowd nearby, especially of children. Alistair led more than one sing-along, while Leo waited for some kind of message from Coulson or Hunter, to say whether they'd had word about an attack.

"For Disney fun, go listen to Jim Spears, our popular piano player, and join in with your favourite songs!" came from the shopping centre speakers. "Free candy for the kids! Only an hour left."

"Big crowd," Alistair said, thumping Leo's back as usual. "Busiest time of day, right near the food court, all the school holiday children and your old fan club. Young and old, enjoying the same music. Fitz, you can hold the crowd for twenty minutes, right? Gotta grab the candy."

"Yeah, sure," he said absently. It wasn't until Alistair had left that he finished 'Reflection', and considered the man's words and the announcement.

_Busiest time of day. An hour left. Candy for the kids. Big crowd. Young and old. Twenty minutes._

_He used my real name._

"Shit!" he hissed, grabbing his phone from his bag. He called Coulson.

"Yes, Fitz?"

"I think it's going to happen near here pretty soon," he said. "Alistair's in on it. I'm playing Disney, for Christ's sake. Children, Coulson. And elderly people. They're the most vulnerable, and they're all hear to listen to me. Less than twenty minutes."

"Shit. I'm sending Hunter to you. Are there any nearby vents?"

"Yeah, above the food court, only twenty feet away. A big one."

"Can you get up there?"

"Not without a ladder."

"Hunter will help you. Simmons finally got the formula to us, and we added it to that device you created, to filter anything released through the vents. But if it's going to be concentrated where you are, you need to start there."

"The announcer might be in on it, too."

"Yes, we heard the announcement over the speakers, but the meaning didn't register until now. Good work, Fitz. Just keep playing until Hunter gets there, unless there's any immediate danger."

"Alright," he said, and he hung up. There were clamours for more music, so he flipped a page and began to play 'Baby Mine'. How macabre.

He was halfway through 'Let's Go Fly a Kite' when Hunter came running up with a shopping bag. As soon as the song was finished, he gestured Hunter over, and looked down into the bag.

"It's set," Hunter said. "You just have to get it in place and start it up."

"I know how to operate it. I built it, remember?"

"Alright, mate, alright. Only you might want to get on."

"I'm not supposed to take a break yet. And even if you gave me a boost, could I get up to the vent and open it?"

"All the vents open with a flathead screwdriver this." He held one up.

"But if I go too early HYDRA will know."

"I've got my mask, you've got yours. It can't spread that quickly, can it?"

Leo shrugged. "Just sit over there, under the vent. If it starts, call for me, get your mask on, and we'll deal with the problem."

"Roger that."

As Hunter walked off, Leo turned a few pages to find something sufficiently distracting for the crowd. 'Circle of Life' was one everybody knew.

It seemed like an age passed, but was only a few songs before he heard Hunter call his name. He looked up, saw some kind of gas slowly emerging from the vent, and immediately stopped playing.

"Everybody, get down and cover your mouths!" he shouted. He grabbed the gas mask from his bag, hauled it on, then picked up the bag and ran towards the vent. Hunter handed him the screwdriver, and it was actually quite easy to get the grate up and get inside. A bit hard to see, but he followed the trail of the thickest clouds of smoke. When he reached the source, the big fan blowing everything out, he sat with his back pressed to it, to block the fog, pulled out and started up the filtering device, then turned around and clipped it on. He scrabbled back the way he'd come until he found the drop point, and got ready to jump down. Hunter caught him by the legs and lowered him to the ground.

"Well done, mate," he said.

"Thanks, Hunter." He looked around, where people were pale and coughing, but alive.

"Let's get them to safety," Hunter said.

"Is the rest of the shopping centre any safer?"

"Coulson was going to cut the security cameras long enough for this. We'll still have time to get them out through the emergency exit."

"Good thing we're on ground level," Leo remarked.

* * *

"You can't stay pissed off forever," Clint pointed out. Rhodey was still staring out the window. "Technically, he didn't lie to you—"

"I know," he said.

Tony had woken Rhodey in the middle of the night to say that he'd recognised the pianist's face, and when searching the name didn't help he tried facial recognition with JARVIS, but the kid rarely looked at the security cameras. After four cups of strong coffee and two more of tea, he finally looked through child genius files he'd created at one point, found his profile of Leo Fitz, and looked for him elsewhere.

Nothing. Which meant that either he'd changed his name soon after – unlikely – or he'd joined a secret organisation which wiped his records. When he couldn't find Fitz in any of the intelligence files he hacked, he came to the conclusion that the kid worked for a shady organisation like SHIELD, only there _was_ no more SHIELD.

But HYDRA was still out there.

After that horrific conclusion was reached, Rhodey had proceeded to shoot the hell out of things on the range, to the point that Clint had hypocritically suggested that Rhodey stop taking out his anger on the many, _many_ targets in the room.

"When you assume, you make an ass outta you and me," Steve piped up, from where he was reading _Silence of the Lambs_.

"You know that's not a farm animal book, right?" Tony said, pointing at it.

"Since it's the sequel to _Red Dragon_, yeah, I guessed as much."

"Problems," Natasha said, walking into the room. "HYDRA-shaped problems. That mall you visited yesterday? There's been a biological attack. The worst hit area was the northern food court. No casualties, and several HYDRA agents were arrested. It would've been worse, but someone found out what was going to happen and averted the worst of the crisis."

"Definitely no casualties?" Rhodey asked over his shoulder.

"Unless you count the HYDRA agents who were gassed when their fire was returned."

"I'm going," Steve said. "Got some bones of my own to pick with HYDRA."

"Me too," Clint said, hopping off the sofa. Rhodey clenched his fists.

"I'll come, too," he said.

At the site, the whole mall had been closed for the rest of the day. The army – how'd they get involved? – were throwing the last of the handcuffed agents into the back of a van. General Talbot was there, and Rhodey saluted.

"Colonel, what're you doing here?" Talbot asked.

"We don't like HYDRA," Rhodey said. "Why're you here? Is this an army matter?"

"We don't like HYDRA, either," Talbot said. "Phil Coulson gives the best presents." He turned his head to call one of his men to start driving the prisoners away. "I'd better leave now, Colonel Rhodes. Didn't know this was an Avengers matter."

"What'd you say about Phil Coulson?" Clint said. Rhodey heard the anger in his voice.

"He sends me people to deal with, I keep other people off SHIELD's back," Talbot said. "You should see some of the prisoners we have thanks to him. So long, Colonel."

They saluted each other, and Talbot strode off. Rhodey turned to the Avengers, who all looked furious.

"You can't stay pissed off forever," he said, echoing Clint's earlier words. The archer punched his arm.

"It's impossible," Natasha said. "I saw his body before the funeral. It was him."

"Find answers later," Rhodey said. "Help victims now."

Bruce was particularly popular, and they all stayed vigilant, keeping an eye out for Coulson. And in Rhodey's case, for Leo Fitz.

"Jim fixed it," one girl said. "He was playing the piano, then he was climbing up into the ceiling."

"Whatever he did, it stopped the gas from spreading," the girl's father said. "Thank God he was there."

"Yeah," Rhodey said, half-smiling. "Have you seen him around?"

"No. He took off, along with the guy who helped him, pretty soon after the military got here. Saw them with another guy, one in a suit. He spoke to… I'm pretty sure that was General Talbot."

"It sure was. So you haven't seen him at all since then?"

"No. It's a real shame, because we all wanted to thank him for saving us."

"And he's not coming back again," the girl said, pouting.

"Well, thanks for telling me," Rhodey said, before returning to Tony's side. "Looks like my soulmate might work for Coulson."

"Least he's not a bad guy, if that's the case." Tony was frowning as he examined something which looked like a mini air-conditioning vent. "This was the filter which stopped the gas from spreading. Fitz must've designed it."

"Is it good?"

"As good as anything I could make, and I'll bet you he doesn't have the same standard of resources. I'll get Bruce to look at the remaining liquid in the tube."

"Yeah, well, screw that," Rhodey said. "I wanna find my soulmate."

"We'll get around to that."

"_No_, Tony. I was supposed to be here this morning to meet him, and I didn't because I thought… `cause I made a mistake. I need to find him."

"Re_lax_. I know just how to find him."

* * *

"Well, we screwed that up," Leo said.

"In what way?" Hunter said. "Those people would possibly be dead. Certainly a hell of a lot sicker than they are now."

"We're sending Simmons in to help find a cure, if there are lasting effects," Coulson said. "At least they didn't use a Diviner to poison everyone. That'd be fatal."

"Yes, thank you, we didn't need reminding of that," Leo muttered.

"Phil?"

"That'll be Maria," Coulson said, standing up. "Hunter, have you met Agent Hill?"

"Not yet."

"Well, you're about to."

They heard the door open and Coulson swear. Hunter was out of his chair and across the room in a second, grabbing a gun on the way, and Leo tensed.

"Came to return your little filtration system, Agent," someone announced loudly. Oh dear. He'd heard that voice yesterday. "And find Rhodey's soulmate. Where are you, Fitz?"

He sank back in his chair, even more nervous now, and waited for Colonel Rhodes to walk into the room. Tony Stark led the way, followed by Coulson and Agent Hill, then Rhodes and Hunter.

"I expected a more technical way of finding us," Coulson said. "You pestered Maria?"

"Simple can be beautiful," Stark said. "There he is! Rhodey, I told you I'd find you your soulmate. You can thank me later. Now, Agent, there's this group of people I'm part of, called the Avengers. You might remember us? We want you over for dinner, mainly so we can chew you out…"

They went back outside, and Leo was left with his soulmate.

"You d-didn't show up this morning," he said.

"Tony found out who you were, and we thought you were HYDRA," Rhodes said. "We didn't know SHIELD was back up and running."

"That's… a complicated matter."

"Can I sit down?"

Leo gestured to a seat, but didn't leave his spot. "What'd you want to see me about?"

"I came to apologise for standing you up."

"That's alright. Not the first time it's happened to me. Well, I mean, first time from my soulmate, but—"

"Which is inexcusable."

"Eh." He waved a hand dismissively. "You thought I was one of the bad guys. Good a reason as any to stay away."

"I think I should tell you that my soulmark for you is damn near white."

Leo's heart sank. "Oh."

"Which means non-platonic."

"Because… oh, right! Like it being black for me, because…" He flushed as he tried to come up with the right words.

"Because of the different skin tone," Rhodes said, smiling.

"I never thought… I never gave much thought to what my soulmate would actually be like physically. I was more worried about whether they'd like me than what they'd look like. Studied different musical instruments but preferred the piano."

"Because of your soulmark?"

"Yeah. I just wanted to find you. But then I was picked for SHIELD. I knew I'd get back to music one day, since I hadn't found you yet, but I wasn't sure when that would be. Then HYDRA forced us into hiding, and I almost gave up hope, especially when I hadn't found you while playing… You've no idea just how gobsmacked I was to find out it was _you_. Then I… Christ, I'm sorry for kissing you like that. I wasn't even sure whether… I mean, DADT—"

"Was a means of discouraging people from cheating on their soulmates, at least towards the end," Rhodes said. "Most of the men I work with don't care about sexuality, only about being faithful to your soulmate. And I would be, I promise."

"So would I."

"So… this is really where you're living?"

"We've not got an active base at the moment. We'll move as soon as—"

"I'm pretty sure after the Avengers get their hands on your boss, he won't be leaving Stark Tower anytime soon," Rhodes said, leaning towards Leo. "You could come with me… with us."

"R-really?"

"Like I said, white mark means non-platonic. If you're not averse…"

"No! No, my God, definitely not averse. Far from it. I jumped you yesterday. Wasn't that enough of a hint?"

"I don't know," Rhodes said, slowly starting to smirk. "Maybe you should try to convince me just how 'not averse' you are?"

"If that chair is strong enough, I'll convince you right now."

"You're on."

Leo moved over to him. "Oh no, not on. Not yet." He sat astride Rhodes's lap, testing the strength of the chair. Good. "_Now_ I'm on."

"I look forward to doing this with far less clothing."

* * *

'**Jim Spears' came from Phil's middle initial J and from Hunter's first name (lance equals spear). And we know a piano tuner by that name, which just added to it.**

**So! Chapter written. Chapter posted. It's been a busy day, and I keep coming up with more chapter ideas. (And you people keep suggesting more ships, which is nice in its way, but also frustrating, and I don't know whether I'll be able to write everything you want me to.)**

**Please review! Tell me what you think of Ritz. ;) Name suggested by ozhawk.**


	78. Brabble and Fuzzle (Bucky x Clint)

**Notes: Non-canon from **_**The Avengers**_** onwards.**

"Brabble and Fuzzle"

Clint was born with the worst soulmark. 'Hi', and nearly illegible at that. Clearly he was going to have an ineloquent soulmate. Either that or someone struck dumb by his beauty, the fortune teller said, but he just snorted and went back to work.

Until he was chased down and recruited by SHIELD, he tended to introduce himself if someone said 'Hi' to him, but nothing. Then he joined Phil Coulson's one attempt at a SHIELD book club and his life was turned around.

"I know what I'm gonna do every time someone greets me with 'Hi'," he said, waggling his eyebrows as he peeked at Coulson from behind his book.

"What's that?" Coulson asked absently, still sorting through the forms on his desk.

"I'm gonna learn the most obscure words that I can and use those, so that my soulmate will know it's me. Now I've got a steady job, I don't have to worry about not being able to support them, whoever it is."

"Surprisingly good idea, Barton. Don't even _think_ about putting your feet on my desk."

"Yes, sir."

Strangely enough, people were more likely to say something interesting to him as he began to rise through SHIELD's ranks. If they were hoping to turn out to be his soulmate, they were wrong. He had to be responsible for the fancy soulmark.

When he met Natasha Romanov, her first word to him was 'Hi', as she stared up at him from where she was sitting on the ground with her back against the wall. He grinned slowly, even as she shivered.

"Don't you just hate snowbroth?" he asked, kicking the newly melted snow on the ground. Her eyes narrowed.

"Snowbroth?" she said.

"This stuff."

"Do you use that word often?"

"Only to see whether or not someone's my soulmate. Are you?" She shook her head, and he sighed. "Wanna come with me anyway? Hell of a lot warmer." She stood up unsteadily, and he helped her out of the passageway. The sun's rays beat down on them despite the cold air. "You know what this is called?"

"What?" she asked, looking reluctantly amused.

"Apricity. The warmth of the sun when it's wintry cold."

Finding and using obscure words became something of a hobby, not just a way of identifying his soulmate. One day, exhausted after a mission, he slid into the seat next to Natasha and across from Coulson, and proceeded to slump on the table and stare straight ahead.

"What are you doing, Barton?" he asked.

"Groaking."

"Of course you are."

"Staring at you while you eat, hoping to be invited to join."

"Barton, to join us you'd have to have actual food."

Clint continued to gaze at Coulson, until the agent gave in and fetched him some food.

Sometimes a mission was malagrugrous (dismal), some of Clint's dirty jokes made people kench (laugh loudly), the occasional bad guy was sanguinolent (addicted to bloodshed, and that went for a few fellow agents as well). And then Clint moved into Stark Tower after the Battle of New York. He snapped out of his widdendream (state of mental disturbance or confusion), and took advantage of Stark's generosity to deliciate (luxuriate, revel) in his surroundings.

And the Avengers learnt what it was like to live with him. Even Thor was baffled by Clint's word usage.

"Is it to make up for the lack of a formal education?" Tony said, leaning over the breakfast table and getting too close for Clint's liking.

"There's a word for you, Stark, and that word is cockalorum."

"Sounds fun."

"Fits you to a T."

Then Tony must have looked it up on his tablet because he gave Clint a sad look.

"That's hurtful," he said.

"Don't give me shit for not going to school."

"Hey, I was only teasing."

"You're saying you're not a little man with a high opinion of himself?" Tony pouted. "Fine, fine. You're not a cockalorum."

"Only because I'm letting you stay here, I'm guessing?"

"Nope." Clint finished off his smoothie. "Because you make me monsterful arrows."

"…That'd better be a compliment."

"It is."

"'Monsterful' means wonderful or extraordinary, sir," JARVIS said, only now choosing to interpret. Tony beamed.

"That's better," he said, and he very nearly skipped back to his workshop.

Clint noted on more than one occasional that a night in the lab resulted in Bruce having elflock (tangled hair), that Thor caused lumming (heavy rain, naturally) if he was missing Jane, and that Steve could freck (move swiftly or nimbly) just as well as Natasha. And that if Tony had been drunk-engineering, resistentialism (the seemingly malevolent behaviour displayed by inanimate objects) became a legitimate fear.

* * *

One day Clint discovered something he wished he hadn't, passed it on to Coulson, who passed it to Fury. HYDRA was within SHIELD. Clint found out purely by accident, and couldn't let it rest, of course he couldn't. They were going to deal with the whole thing quickly and quietly, and he needed Natasha's assistance for that, and Tony as well. He nearly lost it when he arrived back at the tower with Coulson to find them all squabbling over what TV show to watch next. Coulson cleared his throat, which shut them all up.

"Now that you've stopped your brabbling, maybe we could start arguing about something which actually _matters_?" Clint said through clenched teeth.

"Like rescuing Sergeant James Barnes and bringing down a corrupt organisation," Coulson added. The blood drained from Steve's face when the agent handed over a file. "I'm sorry. We only just found out."

"H-he's alive?"

"So it would seem."

"We have to find him!"

"I know, captain, I know, and we will. But we need a plan."

Over the next forty-eight hours, they systematically ferreted out every HYDRA agent within SHIELD, notifying the overseas branches as soon as they could, and caused a big enough distraction for Steve and Thor to storm in and rescue Bucky Barnes from HYDRA's clutches. The press conference was _not_ going to be fun.

"Do you really want them to surmise based on whatever evidence they can find?" Coulson said.

"Probably not," Bruce said, rubbing his eyes as they drove back to the tower to debrief in safety. Steve and Natasha were accompanying Barnes in a reinforced van.

"Definitely don't want them reporting based on what they've corraded," Clint mumbled, making great use of his head-rest. His remark was greeted by silence. "To corrade is to scrape together information from a variety of sources."

"If you say so," Tony said, waving a tired hand. "Got a word for a drinking spree?"

"Brannigan."

"Let's go on a brannigan. We can get drunk."

"You wanna fuzzle us?"

"…If that means get you drunk, then yes, I do."

"Just so we're clear."

"Debriefing first," Coulson said, with zero percent enthusiasm. "Spare me your obscure words in your report, Barton. Please?"

"Have you ever known me to be guilty of perissology?"

"Probably."

"_Wrong_. I'm never redundant in my reports. Takes way too long to write them."

Coulson groaned, and Clint decided to shut up.

* * *

It took about five weeks before Bucky was comfortable enough in himself to leave the floor he'd been staying on with Steve. Three of those weeks were intensive therapy with a man named Sam Wilson, who'd helped Bucky recover most of his conscious memory and come to see that what he did was HYDRA's fault, not his. He was ready to meet new people, the rest of the tower's residents.

Two of those weeks had been spent in familiarising himself with modern society and relearning the old, including the concept of soulmates. Because now he had a soulmark, and he wanted to find his soulmate. He didn't care how platonic it was; he just wanted to find the one person who was supposed to accept and love him for who he was, no matter what'd happened to him in the past.

Steve left for his early morning run, so Bucky sneaked down by himself. Well, as much as someone could sneak when JARVIS was watching their every move. He crept through the common area until he found some people. He nearly ran into a man with short blond hair and piercing eyes, who smirked at him and then walked around. Bucky half-turned, about to ask his name, when he nearly fell over.

"Talk about callipygian," the man murmured, his eyes roving all over Bucky but mainly taking in his rear end. He must've made some sound, because the man met finally met his gaze and winced. "Sorry. That was inappropriate. Clint Barton." He held out his hand, and Bucky shook it, stunned.

"Hi," he said.

"Bucky, right?"

"You're my soulmate."

Clint gaped. "I'm… I'm your…"

"What does callipygian mean?"

"Ah hell, you've got that in your soulmark. Can I ask where?"

"Uh…" Bucky was sure he was blushing, and gestured to his right ass cheek. "It's here."

"That… that'd be right."

"What does it mean?" Clint swallowed.

"The Oxford English Dictionary Online gives the definition of callipygian as 'having well-shaped or finely developed buttocks'," JARVIS said. Bucky jumped, and if he wasn't blushing before, he definitely was now.

"Oh," he said.

"No brain-mouth filter," Clint said, gesturing to his head. "I'm so sorry."

"You're the only one who's gonna see my bare behind anyway. As long as JARVIS doesn't tell anyone, there won't be any teasing. So." He looked Clint over, trying to guess. "Where's _your_ soulmark?"

Clint fidgeted, and then gestured to his inner left thigh with a sheepish look. After a moment, Bucky pushed his soulmate up against the wall.

"Bucky!" he heard Steve say, but then Bucky was too busy kissing Clint, pulling his left knee up and grinding against him to mimic what he really wanted to do. Clint yanked Bucky's head back by the hair, and looked over at Steve.

"We're soulmates," he said. Bucky noticed Steve's jaw drop. "I think we should probably continue this conversation elsewhere, don't you, Bucky?"

He nodded, pulling away, ashamed that he'd kissed Clint without permission. For all he knew, the man didn't want a non-platonic relationship. He followed Clint dutifully, avoiding Steve's gaze, and felt his heart sink as the elevator doors closed.

"My floor, JARVIS," Clint said, and then he pressed Bucky against the wall. "We won't be disturbed there."

"Clint…"

"Make it quick, because I don't think our clothes will stay on long once we get to the bedroom. Unless you'd prefer an _actual_ conversation first, in which case okay, we'll do that."

"You _do_ want me?"

Clint grinded against him gently. "Feel that? That's your answer."

Bucky groaned, tilting his head back against the wall of the elevator. "I like that answer."

"We have arrived at your floor, Agent Barton," JARVIS said, and the doors slid open.

"Thanks, J," Clint said, dragging Bucky out of the elevator. "Talk or bed, Bucky?"

"Bed," Bucky said quickly. "I don't think I could hold a serious conversation right now."

"Bed it is. Right this way, soulmate."

Bucky liked that. And he was glad he'd left Steve's floor today.

* * *

While Bucky slept, Clint switched on his phone and sent Natasha a text.

'_Told you it wasn't a stupid idea to use obscure words. Found my soulmate_.'

'_So JARVIS said_,' she replied. '_Don't screw it up_.'

'_Not a chance. We've bonded now. Never be a problem with misunderstandings_.'

'_You realise that you're ludibrious now_.'

'_If finding my soulmate makes me worthy of mockery, then let the mocking begin. I'm the luckiest guy in the world right now_.'

'_Sap_.'

He turned off the phone with a smile, and then snuggled back in Bucky's hold.

* * *

**I was looking at a webpage with all these obsolete words, and the idea came to me for a character with a generic soulmark who uses weird words in an attempt to make it easier to find their soulmate. I hope you all feel more educated now. Mum thought the title of the chapter was hilarious.**

**Please review! I've written a Clint/Bucky soulmate AU thing before, but that was long before this series, or I'd have included it. It involves baking biscuits, which I've actually done today. Yay for jam drops!**


	79. Open the Bifrost (Jemma x Loki)

**Note: Usual spoilers for the latest episode, S02E17.**

"Open the Bifrost"

"I need a breath of fresh air," Jemma told the guard. Prison guard, she may as well think of him.

"Arms out, legs apart," he said. She narrowed her eyes, but complied, and tried not to fidget as he patted her down, checking for weapons. Of course he wasn't going to find anything dangerous, and certainly not Fury's toolbox. After all, that was with Fitz. And she couldn't tell May that the real toolbox was on the way to a man they didn't seem to trust anymore.

Well, too bad. She was on Coulson's side, and she had to find him, and Fitz, and make sure they were all safe.

"Where are you going, Jemma?" Bobbi called. She hesitated at the threshold, and then looked back over her shoulder.

"Just for a quick walk," she said.

"I'll come with you."

"I'd rather not."

"What're you keeping from us?" Bobbi asked, walking closer.

"N-nothing," Jemma said, stepping backwards. "I've just been checked over."

"I'm not saying that it's a concealed weapon. Just that you're hiding _something_."

"I suppose you're terribly familiar with the concept," she snapped. "Leave me alone. I want some time to myself where I don't have to fear being spied upon."

Then she flounced off with as much indignation as she could muster. A pity she had to leave her things behind, but there was no way they'd allow her to leave like Fitz. If she quit, it would look suspicious after her compliance to date.

But of course things could never be so simple. The minute she was out of sight, she heard the first guard call for the others to search for her, in case she ran.

So she ran. Honestly, did they expect any different? Good thing she'd worn her sports shoes, and that she'd kept up the exercise routine she'd established while undercover at HYDRA. It came in handy as she pelted between trees, through shrubbery – what a time to think about Monty Python! – until the voices came too close. There was a stitch in her side, and she briefly wondered just how far she'd run. Judging by the low hum of an engine, far enough for them to send a Quinjet to look for her. If she wasn't so terrified, she'd be proud of herself.

Oh dear. What to do next? Where could she go? There was no way of contacting any of her allies on Earth…

_So don't stick to Earth_, she thought to herself. With a grin, she sprinted towards the clearest patch of land she could find. Certainly, the Quinjet may land there. But there was no tracker on her, and she'd ditched her card. She ran to the middle and looked at the sky.

"Heimdall, open the Bifrost!" she screamed. "Please, help me!"

"She's this way!" Jemma whirled around, clutching her chest. They were coming for her. There was no—

Then there was a burst of colour and light around her, and she was hurtling through the air with nothing to hold onto. Not until it stopped, and she fell into someone's arms. She shrieked, staring around, until she realised she was no longer in a forest. The arms holding her were dark, and clad in armour. She looked up into golden eyes, and gasped.

"H-hello," she said. "Are you Heimdall?"

"You called for assistance, Jemma Simmons."

"You know me?"

"I would not have assisted you had I not recognised you as one of the Lady Sif's allies."

"W-where am I?"

"On Asgard, my lady."

"I… I see." She looked around, marvelled at the shiny surroundings, the stars in the heavens, and blushed when she realised that she was still clinging to Heimdall. "I'm so sorry to bother you."

"Do you wish to see Lady Sif?" She nodded. "You handled the journey to Asgard remarkably well, Lady Jemma."

"I'm… I'm not a lady—"

"You are an ally of Lady Sif, and thus of Asgard," he said, holding her hand as he led her down from a platform. "Are you the healer?"

"Well, I'm certainly a doctor, although not quite—"

"Would you prefer Healer Simmons?" he asked.

"That… that would be rather nice, actually," she said, smiling up at him. "Thank you for rescuing me, Heimdall."

"I am concerned that you required rescuing."

"I wouldn't have tried calling you unless it was serious."

"Come with me. I will take you to Lady Sif."

"Unless you could send me straight to Director Coulson?" He shook his head. "I didn't think so."

"I can find him for you."

"Yes, please do."

Sif was in the court of Asgard, speaking to… it must have been Odin. Jemma wanted to hang back, but Heimdall brought her forward. Sif's face lit up when she noticed them.

"Lady Jemma!" she called. "What brings you to Asgard? Is the Son of Coul with you?"

"Hello, Sif," Jemma said. She wished the woman was the type to hug. Right now, she felt like a bit of physical comfort. "I wish I knew where Director Coulson is, but I'm afraid I don't. Quite a lot has happened s-since you left." She squeezed her eyes shut, bowed her head. "Calling for otherworldly help was a bit of a last resort."

Sif tilted her chin up, and Jemma opened her eyes and saw the warrior's smile.

"I am glad that you feel you can come to Asgard for aide," Sif said. "How is Skye?"

"I have no idea. She's missing." Sif's smile fell.

"That is unfortunate," she said.

"I don't know where _any_ of them are!"

"Calm yourself, Healer Simmons," Heimdall said. "I will do what I can."

"O-only if you have the time. But thank you, Mr. Heimdall."

"Just Heimdall, my lady," he said, bowing over her hand. "Until later."

As he left, Sif wound an arm around Jemma's waist and led her towards the throne.

"Sire, this is Jemma Simmons, one of the Son of Coul's people," she said. Odin's sole eye was focused squarely on Jemma. She twisted her fingers together.

"Do I curtsy?" she whispered to Sif. The woman laughed.

"Bow, Lady Jemma," she said. Jemma quickly followed her instruction, and was relieved when Odin smiled. That relief disappeared when he stood, and began to walk down the stairs towards them. Sif seemed perfectly at ease, but then she understood court etiquette, and Jemma certainly did not.

"A pleasure to meet you, Healer Simmons," he said, clearly following Heimdall. He held out his hand, palm up. "Any friend of Lady Sif is a friend of Asgard."

"Thank you, your highness," Jemma said, putting her hand in his. As soon as she made contact, there was a prickling at the base of her spine. It became quite strong, and she squirmed.

"Is there a problem, Healer Simmons?" he asked.

"N-no, your highness. Just a twinge in my back."

"Perhaps our own healers can help?" he suggested, letting go of her hand. The tickle faded, and she smiled.

"It has gone already," she said. "It's where my soulmark is."

"I am curious about how Midgardian soulmarks work," he said.

"We have words," she said.

"As do all the realms. Is it impolite to ask about yours?"

She shrugged, embarrassed. "I can't read mine. It isn't any Earth… uh, Midgardian language."

"Perhaps we can read it?" Sif said. "We know the All-Speak."

"Does that translate to written language?"

"Of course," Odin said, raising an eyebrow. Jemma blushed. Without another thought, she raised the back of her shirt, and both Sif and Odin leaned in to read the words, if they were indeed words.

"I recognise that writing," Sif said. "It is the notation of All-Speak. I believe the Lady Foster has such writing upon her skin."

"What does it say?" Jemma asked. "Does… does this mean my soulmate is Asgardian?" Odin inhaled through his teeth, and Jemma twisted her head to stare at him. "Is there something wrong, your highness?"

"'A pleasure to meet you, Healer Simmons'," Sif read aloud. "I must introduce you to more of the court while you are here, to ensure that you find your soulmate."

"Oh my… goodness," Jemma said. It was probably best not to say 'Oh my God' while here. "How can that be?"

"I do not know." Sif walked down a step. "Come, Lady… I beg your pardon, _Healer Simmons_. You can stay with me, unless his highness has any object… Odin's eye!" She drew her sword, staring at the king, and Jemma turned to see what was wrong.

That… wasn't Odin. He melted into a man with green eyes and black hair. He touched her lower back, and Jemma gasped as _something_ surged through her spine, starting from her soulmark and rushing through her body. Her legs trembled, and she stared at the stranger.

"Guards!" Sif shouted. "Loki, step away from her!"

"You are my soulmate," he murmured, stroking the words. Jemma's heart pounded, and then realised what Sif had said.

"Loki?" she said weakly.

"Jemma, come to me," Sif said.

"I have heard 'Thank you, your highness' many times since taking on Odin's form," Loki said. "Becoming a king was the only way to find you. And now I have." He grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it. "Your are truly lovely, Healer Simmons."

"I… I…"

Then everything went black.

* * *

Jemma woke to something – hopefully someone – stroking her hair. She turned her head into the touch, exhaling through her nose. She felt lips on her forehead, and drowsily forced open her eyes.

"Good evening."

"Mmm." She blinked slowly, trying to focus. "Where am I?"

"The palace's healing chambers. My father was happy to arrange for you to stay here while you recover from your shock."

"Oh." She nodded. "You have lovely eyes."

"No one has ever told me that."

"They should have." She frowned. "Your name…"

"I am Prince Loki."

"Loki…" Her eyes widened. "You killed Director Coulson!"

"He did not stay dead, it seems."

"But he went through a terrible procedure—!"

"Shh." He covered her lips with a finger. "Do not excite yourself."

"Odin…"

"He fell into an Odinsleep… a deep sleep after the queen's funeral. Thor was not ready to assume the throne while he was so distracted by the Aether. I have kept the peace until now. He awoke not longer after your arrival here. He must have sensed a Midgardian among us, and last time one visited… it ended with my mother's death."

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I'm sure she was a great woman."

"The most wonderful…" He cleared his throat. "Now Odin may resume the reigns of leadership. I have been commended for handling Asgard well in his absence, leaving me free to be by your side."

She looked away. "You were still responsible for many deaths."

"Not entirely of my own volition. I… cannot possibly excuse my actions. In fact, I am rather confounded that such a woman as you should be my soulmate. You deserve someone who is not a war criminal." He stroked her hair again, and she sighed at the touch. When he touched her cheek, that itch from her soulmark resumed, and she shivered.

"Why does it feel so strange?" she asked. "It isn't anything like I expected. I've heard and read so many descriptions—"

"You are mated to a Jötun," he said. "I keep the appearance I used most of my life, because it is familiar to me, but we are from difference worlds. Is it only natural that our soulmateship is not the same as any other."

"How true," she said, her eyes growing wide. "It must be a unique case! How very intriguing."

"An inquisitive nature like mine," he said, and he kissed her hand again. "The things we can discover together, my dear Jemma."

"Loki…"

"Please let go of your reservations and grant me a chance," he begged. "I will do whatever is necessary to make reparations, to you and your director. Anyone. Tell me what to do and I will do it, Jemma. _Anything_."

She paused. "Where is your soulmark?"

He pushed up his right sleeve, and showed her the words written in English. 'Thank you, your highness'.

"I was always jealous of Thor, no matter how better I was at my studies," he said.

"I understand the feeling," she murmured.

"Your family?"

"Yes. Although they encouraged my studies, they disliked it when I chose to move to America. They thought I was wasting my education."

"They were wrong." He massaged her hand gently. "My obsession with the throne was already there, dormant, but it grew when the evidence of kingship appeared on my arm."

"This… this was my fault?"

"No! I am attempting to assure you that it was _not_ your fault. The soulmark simply awakened what was already there. I became convinced that it was destiny. They should have seen that as a sign." He chuckled wryly. "My whole childhood I spoke of destiny being a foolish concept. After all, I waited hundreds of years for a soulmark. Now I wish I had shown it to my mother. She would have advised me…" He lowered his head.

"I wish I'd met her," Jemma said softly.

"She was as extraordinary as I am sure you are."

He picked up her hand and pressed his lips to it again. "Forgive me. My desire to kiss you is overwhelming."

Jemma blushed. "Oh?"

"May I court you? Or at least have hope that you may allow me to one day?"

"Oh, uh. Court me? I've never… encountered that back home. Dating, yes. But between soulmates, everything moves faster on… Midgard."

"We have more time here," Loki said.

"I won't live nearly as long as you," Jemma pointed out.

"When… _if_ we wed, you would naturally partake of a golden apple of longevity. Think carefully, Jemma dear. We would be together much longer than any human couple. You would outlive your friends considerably. Yes, you would doubtless make new ones here, but your family—"

"Thinks I'm dead," she whispered. He nuzzled the back of her hand.

"I am truly sorry," he said. "And I will not press you for an answer now. I would be happy with anything which is not an outright rejection."

"Loki, you are my _soulmate_. I couldn't possibly reject you. I just… don't feel comfortable yet. Not knowing what you did, and…"

"I will do everything I can to make amends," he said softly. "Until then, do not worry. You shall be returned to the Son of Coul, and I will give you any assistance I can in fighting your enemies. Take your time considering my proposal of courtship." She nodded, and he kissed her forehead again. "Thank you, Jemma."

* * *

**Eh. Can't be bothered to write more for this one. I mean, I could keep it going for ages, with Loki helping them defeat HYDRA, wooing the hell out of Jemma, fixing things with Coulson and the Avengers, and so forth. But to be honest? I'd rather just get this chapter out there to please you, my dear readers, and not leave you waiting ages for another story.**

**Please review! As I said in my latest 'Bonding Scenes' chapter, I've started posting a story I wrote last year, an original work of romantic fiction. It's on Fiction Press, under the name CeliaEquus. The story is called 'Stormy Weather'. Just in case anyone feels like wasting time on original fiction when they could be reading fan fiction. *Rolls eyes***


	80. Magic Lady (Darcy x Wanda)

**Note: Don't know what nationality the Maximoff twins are supposed to be, and I'm not going to rely on an online translator thingummy. So just pretend that when they're talking to each other, they're using… whatever their original language is.**

"Magic Lady"

"Hey, Magic Lady, come over here, would ya?"

Wanda nearly tripped over her own two feet where she stood, and Pietro dropped his forkful of spaghetti. Why he was eating cold pasta for breakfast was something she hadn't been able to fathom about her twin since they were introduced to 'civilisation'.

"How unexpected," he murmured. Wanda looked over at the brunette waving to her, and pointed to herself.

"Yeah, you! You're the Scarlet Witch, right?" She nodded slowly. "Come on over here. We haven't met yet."

"Good luck," Pietro said as Wanda passed him. She smacked him on the upper arm, and he poked his tongue out at her.

"Child," she said.

"Be nice," he said.

She walked through to the common area, looking around nervously. It was a habit she desperately wanted to break, but it was hard after being imprisoned for years, forced to accept powers she had never wanted, despite what her soulmark had proclaimed.

"I'm Darcy Lewis," the brunette said, grinning from behind a pair of glasses, her wavy her tucked beneath a red woollen hat. "This is Jane Foster."

Wanda shook Jane's hand, and then Darcy's. Oh goodness, she couldn't think of anything appropriate to say. Something unique, so that Darcy would know… or could confirm that it was merely coincidence.

"I think you've come across a little strong, Darcy," Jane said, nudging her.

"She's probably just struck dumb by my awesomeness," Darcy said. "It's okay, Wanda. I can call you Wanda, can't I?" Wanda nodded. "Sweet! Come on, sit down. It's so nice to have more girls around here."

"We don't even live here yet," Jane said.

"Stark's letting us move in with Thor," Darcy said. "Natasha and Pepper are gonna be super happy that they're not the only chicks around anymore, and having another girl on the team? Another leap forward for womankind! So I'm proposing girls' nights, starting tonight."

"Go have your breakfast, Wanda," Jane said. "We can talk tonight."

"Gotta go unpack now," Darcy said. "But I can already tell we're gonna be great friends, hot stuff."

Then she and Jane hurried off, and Wanda was left there, cursing herself (not literally) for not saying anything when she had the chance. She walked back to the kitchen in a daze, and Pietro cocked his head.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I didn't say anything."

"What? Why not?"

She sank onto the stool beside him. "I couldn't think of anything to say to her. It has to be special, just right." She fought against the tears that wanted to spill. "There mustn't be any misunderstanding. It _must_ go well…"

"Shh." He rubbed her shoulder. "It will be all be fine, Wanda. It sounds as though you'll have an opportunity tonight."

"Yes," she said, nodding quickly. "I have to speak to her tonight. It's unavoidable."

"So prepare yourself." He patted her arm, and returned to his 'breakfast'. "She's lucky to have you, and you're lucky to find her."

"You will find your soulmate as well, Pietro," she whispered.

"But you found yours today," he said firmly. "We will go shopping and find something special."

"I must buy her a present," Wanda said, trying to remember the customs. "Will you help me, Pietro?"

"Of course."

* * *

In the end, Wanda bought presents for each of the women, consulting with Natasha on who exactly would be there, to make sure she wouldn't be leaving anyone out. She bought half a dozen fancy cupcakes (and Pietro bought one for himself to test the quality), and then found a shop which sold all manner of things, such as tarot cards, 'New Age' books, various gem stones and herbs, an array of scarves. She picked out a silk scarf for each woman, and then a special crystal necklace for Darcy… just in case.

"Are you sure they will like these?" she asked Pietro on the way up to their floor in Stark Tower. "What if they're not… not…"

"Expensive enough?" he said, raising his eyebrows. She nodded. "A good present does not cost money; it costs love."

"A pretty sentiment, Pietro, but—"

"They can buy whatever they need, or wish, but they cannot buy something they didn't know they wanted."

She processed his words until they may sense. "I hope plain vanilla cupcakes will be alright."

"Miss Potts is allergic to strawberries," JARVIS said, startling her. Pietro grabbed the bags when she dropped them. "I do apologise, Miss Maximoff. There are no other known allergies among the women in the tower."

"T-thank you," she said, eyes darting to and fro. Pietro touched her back.

"You're fretting, sister," he said. "Don't. I'm sure they're not expecting anything like this from you."

"It must go well tonight," Wanda said. "It _must_."

"She could never reject you."

Wanda bowed her head, tears pricking her eyes. "We helped Ultron…"

"And then we helped defeat him. Please calm down, Wanda." He gave her a one-armed hug. "Fate is on our side. She brought us to the Avengers."

"…I suppose so."

"She is securing you to one of their own. That isn't a bad thing."

She fiddled with the bag as they walked through their apartment. "She's beautiful, Pietro."

"As are you."

"Do you think she will only want a platonic bond with me?"

He smirked. "I doubt it. But you won't discover the answer until you ask the question."

"Should these go into the refrigerator?"

"I think so."

* * *

Pietro gave an approving nod.

"Very nice, Wanda," he said.

She couldn't help fidgeting in place. The skirt of her lilac dress fell to below her knees, and she was wearing sheer stockings; but the rest of her outfit was modest. The collar was high, the sleeves went to her elbows, and she was wearing flat shoes. She also wore the matching necklace to the one she bought for Darcy, and that particular present was hidden in one of her pockets. The others were in a bag, and Pietro handed her the box of cupcakes. JARVIS confirmed that there would only be the five of them: Wanda, Darcy, Pepper, Natasha, and Jane. Maria was away on business. So she had left the sixth cupcake behind to share with Pietro later.

"Have fun," he added, and he kissed her on the cheek.

Pepper greeted Wanda when the elevator arrived at Natasha's floor.

"Come in," she said, leading Wanda through. "Did you bring snacks? That wasn't necessary."

"You don't want them? I… I thought I was supposed to—"

"It wasn't necessary, but it's sweet of you," Pepper said, taking the box from her. "Best way to make a good impression. Even Natasha can't resist…" She checked the contents of the box, and grinned. "Cupcakes. Yep. Definitely our new favourite person."

"Did you bring sustenance?" Darcy said, twisting around on the sofa. "Excellent!"

"I'll put these on a plate," Pepper said. "Won't be long. Take a seat."

Jane waved Wanda over, and Darcy tugged her down onto the sofa between them.

"So, Wanda," Darcy said. "What're you gonna do for a living now that you're…"

"Out of captivity?" Jane said. Darcy flinched.

"Okay, my bad," she said. "I'm sorry. Just… tell us about yourself. Anything."

Wanda had come up with so many creative things she could say, but now they all flew from her mind. She shifted in place, opening and closing her mouth. Darcy's gaze moved down her body.

"What's wrong, Wanda?" Natasha asked, frowning slightly.

"Uh…"

"Is that a bruise on your leg?" Darcy asked, pointing. Wanda shook her head. "Is it your soulmark?" In answer, Wanda rested her leg on her knee and stretched the material of the stocking to make the writing clearer. Darcy gasped. "That's… that's my writing."

"It is?" Wanda said.

"Yeah."

"I've… I've been trying all day to think of something clever to say to you, so you'd know it was me, but then I look at you and my brain stops working."

"Nothing clever," Darcy said, and she shrugged. "Just 'It is'. Those are my words."

Wanda's cheeks heated up. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be, babe. You're the one with 'Magic Lady' in your soulmark."

"Cupcakes," Pepper said, placing the plate on the table. "Courtesy of Wanda."

"Oh!" she said, remembering the bag she was holding. She quickly pulled out the parcels, and handed them around. "I bought these. I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to bring anything, so…" She sank back in the cushions, all confidence deserting her. There was silence, and then Jane squeezed her knee.

"That was thoughtful of you, Wanda," she said. "Thank you."

"They're not much, but I didn't know what else to get—"

"It's beautiful," Natasha said, holding up her scarf. How had she opened her present so swiftly and quietly? She wrapped the scarf around her neck. "Thank you."

"I… I also bought this for you, Darcy, in case you really were my soulmate," Wanda added quietly, handing her the wrapped necklace. "It's a custom among my people…"

"It's gorgeous," Darcy said, inspecting the crystal. "Matches yours."

"Yes."

"Wow. I hit the jackpot with my soulmate." She kissed Wanda right on the lips, with no warning. Stunned, Wanda stared at her as Darcy undid the clasp of her necklace. "Help me put it on?"

"O-of course." Wanda fumbled a bit with nerves, but managed to help Darcy put the necklace on. "You like it?"

"Love it." Darcy kissed her on the cheek this time, and then sat back, a twinkle in her eyes. "Okay! Time for tea and gossip, ladies."

Wanda bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling, and then met Natasha's eyes. The former assassin raised an eyebrow, and smiled softly, like she was saying that she understood. The emotion was overwhelming, threatening to drag her under. She meekly accepted a cupcake, and leaned into Darcy's side when her soulmate – her _soulmate_ – put an arm around her waist. She grew somewhat distracted when Darcy licked frosting off her fingers, and it took a discreet cough from Pepper to redirect her attention to the conversation. Much of it was complaining about the levels of testosterone in the building, that it grew whenever Happy was around, and that it was nearly unbearable when Rhodey and Sam joined them.

"I hope Thor doesn't bring his Asgardian friends here," Jane said, wide-eyed. "Can you imagine?"

"At least Sif's a woman," Natasha said.

"Yeah, but I don't think she likes me all that much. I was sort of indirectly responsible for Queen Frigga's death. Thor can say it wasn't my fault all he wants, but that doesn't stop the guilt…" She trailed off. "Anyway, I'm sure Sif would prefer to hang out with the guys."

"Her loss, then," Darcy said, raising her glass of grape juice. "Because behind the bunch of great guys are the even greater women."

* * *

At the end of the night, Wanda returned to their floor, still somewhat red-faced and giddy from the goodnight kiss Darcy had given her. Pietro took one look at her from where he was watching television, and grinned.

"The night went well," he said. "I told you there was no need to worry."

"Want to have the cupcake now?"

"We can save it for breakfast." She made a face. "There is egg in cupcakes, and egg is a breakfast food."

Well, there was no arguing that logic.

"I've invited Darcy to dinner with us tomorrow night," she said.

"In or out?"

"In. You and I were nearly recognised at least three times today, and I don't want that kind of pressure." She looked around worriedly. "Not while she's getting to know you."

"And it's safe here," he said, raising his eyebrows. Wanda nodded. "Did you use your powers tonight?"

"No. I… I forgot about them." She furrowed her brow. "It doesn't make sense."

"It makes perfect sense, Wanda. You didn't feel threatened, did you?"

"Of course not."

"There you are."

"…What are you watching?"

"I've just started _Labyrinth_. Do you want to join me?"

"I'll get into my pyjamas."

* * *

"Have you heard?"

Wanda blinked fuzzily as Darcy shook her awake.

"Heard what?" she mumbled.

"Cap's just brought in Bucky Barnes! C'mon, wanna go see a former assassin?"

"We live with a couple of them, Darce."

"But this one was a war hero. Come on. D'you want me to tickle you?"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Wanda said, pushing Darcy's wicked hands away. "Where are my slippers?"

She was still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes when they got down to the medical floor, and Wanda immediately noticed Pietro pressed up against a wall, staring as Steve argued a man with a metal arm to lie on a hospital bed.

"Bucky, don't be such a stubborn ass!"

"I thought they were supposed to be soulmates," Pietro whispered when Wanda reached his side. She cocked her head. "He said my soul words."

"_He_ did?" Pietro nodded, his eyes wide. "Does he know?" He gave her a sheepish look, and she rolled her eyes. "We're as bad as each other."

"Steve, I feel fine!" Bucky Barnes was saying as he tried to shove Steve's arms out of the way. "C'mon, I don't need all this."

Wanda made a decision. She dragged Pietro over to the group, and shrugged when Darcy looked at her questioningly. Bucky – she might as well use his first name – studied all of them, but his gaze paused on Pietro. Wanda dug her elbow into her twin's side. He opened his mouth, but shut it again. Bucky arched an eyebrow.

"What're you lookin' at?" he asked.

"You," Pietro said.

Bucky's jaw dropped, and Wanda face-palmed.

"One word?" she hissed. "I take it back, Pietro. You're worse than I am."

* * *

**Darcy/Wanda requested by phoenix_173. Bucky/Pietro was my own weird sense of humour striking again.**

**Please review!**


	81. A Million Reasons (BakshixRumlowxSkye)

"A Million Reasons"

It was damn hard to take out Sunil Bakshi. He was muscle, but he wasn't a field agent of Rumlow's skill, and he'd been captured by SHIELD one more than one occasion. How could he possibly be so good at dodging shots?

Brock grimaced at yet another failure. After the surgery, he'd been a bit peeved at HYDRA (to say the least), ready to strike out on his own, and it took a great deal of money for them to tempt him out of retirement to take out Bakshi, rumoured to be a traitor to HYDRA. He'd ordered the assassination of a number of senior officials, apparently at SHIELD's bidding, so Brock had been employed to deal with him.

He slinked away to the nearest bar to reconsider his approach. Half an hour and two beers in, Bakshi entered. He didn't even bother to look around. Either it was overconfidence or stupidity, or perhaps both. Brock looked down at his drink, keeping his peripheral on Bakshi. Nope. Not a hint that he was being watched by the man. He couldn't be seen through the mirror behind the bar, not at this angle.

He tensed as Bakshi turned around, a spirit – scotch? – in hand. Brock sank back, fully aware that to keep an eye on Bakshi he risked being seen himself. But better the devil…

Bakshi drank slowly, and Brock watched him, rarely taking his eyes off his target. Eventually, the man stood and walked off towards the bathroom. No way was Brock going to risk him running. He followed, always alert for potential threats, and entered the toilets five seconds after Bakshi.

All the stall doors were closed, suspicious in itself. Brock walked along quietly, and absolutely didn't jump in surprise when one door opened and he was pushed back against the counter by a pissed off Bakshi. Brock shoved him off, and he was reluctantly impressed when it took at least two whole minutes to get Bakshi on the floor. Even then he yanked Brock down with him, and they ended up nose-to-nose.

"You're a hard one to take down," Brock remarked, and damn, genuine compliments usually had to be dragged out of him.

Bakshi's eyes widened and he gasped softly. Brock raised an eyebrow, and began to reach for his gun, when…

"You're hard, as well," he said.

Huh. Who knew an English accent speaking his soul words would be enough to throw his concentration? Bakshi jumped to his feet and backed off a few steps. Brock stood up and swallowed.

"Always pictured those words being spoken in a different context," he said. He watched Bakshi work out what he meant, and the blush was pretty… cute.

"My parents thought I'd be far more the sporty type," he replied. "I refused to let ambiguous words dictate the direction I would take in life… although the years of studying self-defence have proved worthwhile on multiple occasions."

"Can I buy you a drink?" Brock said, scratching the back of his head. "I promise: no more assassination attempts."

"And I promise to dispose of the poison I intended to use on you." Bakshi shrugged. "It was nothing personal…"

"Just business," Brock finished. "SHIELD?"

"…Aren't they paying you?"

"No. HY…" He glanced around. "Drinks. In a booth. Come on."

Once they were seated close to each other – it could easily be explained that they'd just discovered they were soulmates, which was true – they bent their heads together and spoke in low voices.

"HYDRA is paying me to kill you," Brock said. "Since you organised hits on the Sheikh, the Baroness, and the Banker, and then killed Octavian Bloom."

"Bloom and I thought they wanted to kill us," Bakshi – no, Sunil – said. "SHIELD… misled us into believing that. Then they shot Bloom and sent me to government custody. Not that that lasted long. Someone assisted me in escaping…"

"Probably because it'd be harder to take you out when the army was guarding you," Brock said. "Looks like HYDRA saved your life by trying to kill you."

"How lovely," he muttered.

"Look on the bright side. We've got each other."

"True," Sunil said, looking him over with a small smile. "A very bright side, indeed."

Brock cleared his throat, trying not to blush. "Tell me about yourself. Where are you from? England, I'm guessing."

"That's right. Born and raised in Ealing. Not a bad area as such, but my family left much to be desired, as did the children of the neighbourhood."

"I'm sorry."

"What about you? I'm afraid I still cannot distinguish the accents of different states and territories from one another. If it isn't the Deep South, I haven't a hope."

Brock chuckled, pressing into his soulmate's side. Honestly, at his age? He was giggling like a damn school girl? Jeez, if this was the way he felt _before_ they even bonded…

"The Big Apple," he said. "Native New Yorker. Didn't get my soulmark until I was in my teens, but you're a big enough boy for me to feel less like a lech, thank Christ."

"Who d'you think our third is?" Sunil asked, stroking Brock's hand absently.

"Be nice if it was a woman, to balance out the testosterone," Brock said. "Otherwise we'd probably go crazy."

"Not good in our line of work," Sunil said.

"I became a merc to pay my medical bills. Wanna join me?"

"Has HYDRA paid you yet?"

"Nope. You?"

"No."

"Damn," Sunil muttered. Brock smiled bitterly. "What do we do?"

"What I do best," Brock said. "Strategise."

"Any ideas yet?"

He winced. "You probably won't like it, but it's worth a shot. I'll need a phone number. For…" He sighed. "Phil Coulson."

"…You're right. I don't like it."

"When you're a merc, you hear about other people who work in that line. The one of most interest to us is Lance Hunter. Worked for Isabelle Hartley. She used to be SHIELD. Now _he_ is. Which means Coulson might be willing to hire mercenaries."

"But they… really don't like me."

"I betrayed Captain America, his goddamned hero. He has every reason to hate both of us, but he's a practical man. There's talk he's going to bring Grant Ward in…" Sunil flinched, and Brock paused. "Spill. What happened?"

"He's the one who gave me to SHIELD the first time they took me into custody."

"Did he hurt you?"

"Of course. But we've hurt SHIELD, and… I don't have a personal reason to join them. Well." He took hold of Brock's hand and smiled softly. "Aside from the obvious. So if it's the only way to earn a living, we'll… sound him out, I suppose. If HYDRA wants us to take each other out, why should we return to them?"

"Should've taken the money first," Brock muttered, berating himself.

"They would've just come after us," Sunil said. "Forget about it, love."

Brock smiled despite himself. "Calling me 'Love' already?"

"Just a British term of endearment," Sunil mumbled.

"Come on, handsome. Let's get out of here. We're not gonna find contact information for SHIELD just sitting around here."

* * *

May was giving Coulson dirty looks, and so was Simmons. Skye noticed that Hunter and Fitz didn't seem as perturbed; but then it's not like they'd ever had contact with either of the men coming to visit. In May's case it was natural protectiveness over her charges, which included Simmons.

"I can't believe you're doing this," Skye said, poking Coulson from behind. He glared at her over his shoulder.

"They might be able to help enough so that we don't have to find Ward and bring _him _in to help us," he said. Skye inhaled sharply. "I'm pretty sure two mercenaries who are just in it for the money will be preferable to our issues with Ward. And, well, he seems to be pretty off his head. And Rumlow may be enhanced, which will be useful for us."

"If they're serious, and this doesn't blow up in our face," May said.

"Did I forget to tell you that I've been buying lottery tickets once a week for over a year?" Coulson said. They all looked at him. "Won it about a month ago. Been investing it wisely. We can afford a couple of mercenaries on the payroll."

"Now I'm wishing I hadn't taken a permanent position," Hunter said.

"We'll win them over, get them on staff. Save the money for chocolates for the Avengers when I tell them I'm alive… eventually."

"They'll need alcohol, not chocolate."

"Here they are," Fitz said, pointing at the car pulling up outside.

"It's not a risk letting them know where we are?" May said, eyeing Coulson.

"Everything is a risk in life, May," he replied.

"Thanks for the reassurance."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Bakshi, Mr. Rumlow," Coulson said, walking down to meet the men as they approached, arms brushing as they walked. Skye had heard something about them being soulmates. "Welcome to… headquarters."

"What're you calling this place?" Rumlow said, raising an eyebrow.

"Haven't decided yet. We have a bad habit of not being able to keep secret bases all that long before they're compromised."

"HYDRA thinks we killed each other," Bakshi said. "By the time they connect the bodies with the ones missing from teaching hospital morgues…"

Rumlow touched his arm. "They'd be idiots not to spot the old bash-in-the-face trick."

"Always go for the head, right?" Skye quipped to them. Okay, probably a bit insensitive, judging by their shocked looks.

"Nothing like the classics," Bakshi said.

_Oh_.

"We haven't been introduced," Rumlow said.

_No_.

"Holy shit," Skye said.

"Oh my God," Simmons said, and she covered her mouth. "Skye, those are your…"

"Yeah." Skye rubbed the back of her neck. "Crap."

"Skye, are they your soulmates?" Coulson asked weakly.

"…They said my soulmarks."

"You said ours," Bakshi said, and the men stepped closer. "You're Agent Skye, am I right?" She nodded, speechless

"Permanent positions," Hunter whispered to Fitz, who snickered.

"When do we start, Coulson?" Rumlow asked.

* * *

**I really want to call Bakshi/Rumlow Bakrow. Or Bakshow. Or Shilow. With Skye in the mix… Shie and Low?**

**I'd already come up with Bakshi/Rumlow as a pairing (and then threw in Ward in a previous chapter), which was seconded by Equal-Opportunity-Reader. Kira Kyuu – who advised me to make them mercenaries – suggested adding Skye to the mix.**

**Please review!**


	82. Five Times Loved (NatashaxPhil at first)

**Note: Yeah, I'm **_**trying**_** to stick to crossovers, but I love writing interesting, different things. Can't believe I turned a soulmate AU into a 5+1 Things fic. Or is it the other way around?**

"Five Times Loved"

_1_

Phil stared as Clint brought in the Black Widow. There was a sudden movement, and the Widow took out their would-be assailant.

"That's not the last of them," she told Phil as they walked over to him. Her eyes were darting around, but she met his eyes when she spoke.

Clint didn't know Phil's soulmark; he kept it very private, as people did. But he obviously saw the way Phil's lips parted in surprise, because he frowned, and opened his mouth.

"Boss—"

"Another one!" the Widow said, pulling a gun neither of them had noticed. The next minute was filled with fending off more attackers, obviously after the Black Widow as well. Once all five men in black were down, Phil looked over his shoulder at the one she had shot before he could take Phil. Then he smiled at her, and she nodded.

"I love you," he said. Her eyes widened.

"What?" she said.

"Don't worry," Clint said. "He said the same thing to me the first time I saved his life."

"Coincidentally the first time we met," Phil said. "Though they weren't the first words I said to him."

"But they were the first ones you said to me," she said.

"Your…" He trailed off, hoping she'd understand. She nodded. "Same."

"I'll come with you," she said, stepping closer to them. "But the minute I no longer trust SHIELD, I'm out."

"Then don't trust SHIELD," Clint said, nudging her. "Trust us."

She never mentioned the soulmark to Phil by name, and seemed wary enough to make it worthwhile giving her some room. He waited for her to come to him, but she never did.

* * *

_2_

"You obviously have a crush on your soulmate, so why don't you do something about it?" Clint said, kicking Phil under his desk. Phil kicked back harder, so Clint pulled his knees up to his chin and sat curled in the chair opposite his boss.

"Because you're seeing something that isn't there, Hawkeye," he said.

"Dude, I'm not blind. You have feelings for her, and she… doesn't hate you. Or, more important, doesn't mistrust you."

"I have no idea what the Red Room taught her about soulmates, but I can bet it wasn't positive, or she might've… I don't know, _talked_ to me about it by now."

"C'mon, Coulson. You won't say any—"

Phil's phone rang. He picked it up without even looking, saving his blistering glare for Clint, who barely flinched. "Coulson."

"Romanov's returned from her mission," Hill said. "She's in medical."

"Who dragged her kicking and screaming?" he asked.

"No one."

"You mean she went there _voluntarily_?" Clint raised his eyebrows, and mouthed 'Natasha?' Phil nodded. It must've been worse than he thought.

"Right before passing out from a head injury and blood loss. She's menstruating at the moment, which means that the loss is heavier."

"I… didn't need to know that, but thank you for giving me additional worry. We'll be down there soon." Then he hung up, and yanked his tie off, feeling it choke him.

"I'm allowed to come?" Clint asked, following Phil as he strode out the door.

"You'll find some other way in. At least if you walk in the door you bring fewer germs than coming through the vents."

She seemed pretty drowsy, floating in and out of consciousness. She was closer to Clint than she was to Phil, but he was used to suppressing his jealousy by now. He was glad that she had a trusted friend at SHIELD, and hoped that she might even consider Phil to be a friend as well. Sure, he was her boss, but so was Clint, and he got on well with the archer, no matter how irritating he was at times.

Still, it was Clint who was holding Natasha's hand, not Phil. Clint sitting beside her bed, not Phil. Clint whispering to her, trying to keep her awake. Not Phil. Never Phil.

But they waited. He had to leave eventually, but he allowed himself the indulgence of stroking her (currently blonde) hair away out of her eyes.

"Get better, Natasha," he whispered. "You're one of my best friends. I love you."

"I'll look after her, boss," Clint said. Phil nodded, and left.

* * *

_3_

Phil's feelings were getting out of hand. He knew he was naturally drawn to her because of the soulmateship. But he loved the occasional glimpses of humour he got from her, her cool efficiency, her ability to keep on top of her paperwork, the smiles that transformed her face from attractive to beautiful. And while he knew he was way out of her league, that didn't stop him from hoping that their connection would be enough for her to make some overtures of actual friendship.

His older friends – the ones he'd known for years – called him pathetic.

"You'll regret this in the morning," Blake said as Phil had his fourth shot.

"Got the day off tomorrow," he said. "Besides, nothing gives me a clearer head than a mission. If I'm called in for work, it'll be no problem."

"I hate being designated driver," Garrett said. "But I never miss an opportunity to see Phil off his face `cause of alcohol."

"Or drugs," Hand added.

"That was one time, _years_ ago," Phil said. "That extremely unattractive photo Sitwell took of me scared me into _never_ smoking a joint again."

"I still don't know how you got rid of it," Sitwell grumbled.

"So are you ever gonna suck it up and tell her how you feel?" Hill said. "Hey, can I get a bag of peanuts here?"

"Not worth it," Phil said. "She's not interested. Made it clear she doesn't wanna be my friend."

"You mean that she doesn't want you to be her friend," Fury said. Phil scowled at him.

"Thanks, boss," he said waspishly. "That makes me feel so much better."

"Don't be so damn pedantic," May said. "And you, Coulson. Stop being so pessimistic."

"I can't read your poker face half the time," he complained. "How am I supposed to read Romanov? I've known you much, _much _longer."

"Not _that_ much longer," she muttered.

"Cutting off your shots," Hill said. "Have some peanuts. They'll soak up the alcohol."

"Myth," he said, but he tore into the packet gratefully.

Garrett saw him back to his room. Once inside, Phil pulled out his mobile, dialled Natasha's number, and stared at it for a long time before hitting the call button.

"Who is this?" she asked sharply.

"Hi, Natasha."

"…Coulson? How did you get this number?"

"Clint," he said. "I love Clint. He's a great guy, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is," she said, and she sighed. "What do you want, Coulson?"

"I love you, too, Natasha. You're kickass. Like Melinda May. Have you met her? You'd be great fun. Friends. If you think you like Hill, you'd love May. I love her as well. One of my oldest friends, but don't tell her I said that, or she'll prank me in some big way, and I'm too drunk to handle that right now."

"You've been drinking?" she said.

"Senior agents," he said. "Best friends, `side from you an' Clint. I love Clint. And you. Did I tell you that?"

"Yes," she said. "My soul…"

"Soulmark?" he said. "Y'know what my soulmark says? 'That's not the last of them.' First words you said to me. I know you don't talk about it, but…" He yawned. "G'night, Natasha. Thanks for the call."

He just about managed to hit the hang up button, then curled up in his bed to shut his eyes until he felt like getting up to shower.

* * *

_4_

The one and only SHIELD movie night was problematic. First, they had to agree on a genre of movie. Action was out, because everyone was a critic, and some people had triggers. Thrillers and horror films were out for much the same reason. No one wanted to watch children's movies or musicals. Fury vetoed pornography before anyone could so much as suggest it. It left drama, comedy, or romance. Classics were discarded, quite a large section of SHIELD went against drama, everyone's tastes in comedy films differed, which left them with romance.

They ended up with a cheesy soulmate romantic comedy, complete with the usual misunderstandings, the angst arising from that, the best friend everyone cheered for, and the Grand Gesture ending. Phil was sitting at the back with Natasha, since Clint was on assignment. He thought he heard a sound from her, and his brow furrowed when he noticed the tears running down her cheeks. He discreetly held out the handkerchief from his suit pocket, and she accepted it with a half-smile.

"Should've gone with _The Lion King_, like I suggested," he murmured just loudly enough for her to hear.

"That kind of love, right there," she whispered, nodding to the screen, "the Hollywood kind of love… Is it bad that I used to want it? That sometimes I still do?"

"Nothing bad about it," he said. Surely everything in his posture, in his manner towards her, _screamed_ the fact that he would do anything for her to want _him_ like that?

"Love is for children."

"Too bad for you, then. Because there are people who like you, as a friend. And there are people who love you like a friend. Clint loves you. I love you. I'm pretty sure Fury loves you, insofar as Fury can love anyone. There are younger agents who worship you, aspire to be like you. If you let anyone get closer to you, they'd love you, too."

She only leaned against his side for a moment, but it was enough. That would carry him along for months.

* * *

_5_

The Helicarrier was being attacked. Phil bumped into Natasha on his way to the weapons room, while she ran to find Clint.

"Good luck," he said. "Don't die."

"Succinct instructions," she said.

"At least mine are monosyllabic," he retorted. "'Succinct instructions'? How do you even have the time to say that?"

"We have enough time to stand here and argue about it, apparently," she said, raising her eyebrows.

"Be careful out there, Natasha." She nodded, and turned away. "I… love you."

She stopped in her tracks. He began to continue on his way, but stopped when he heard her reply.

"Why?" she asked. He shrugged, even though she probably wasn't looking.

"Don't have the time to tell you all the little reasons," he said.

"Is it because… of our soul—"

"No," he said. "I told you once that you just had to let people in and they would love you. I can't help it. I've tried, but…" He shrugged again. "It doesn't matter. You need to help Clint, I need to help the others. Go."

He was nearly at the end of the corridor when he heard the sound of running feet behind him. He turned, ready to fight, and found his arms full of Russian spy. She broke away when there was another explosion.

"Don't die," she said, slowly unwinding her arms from around his shoulders. "Phil, I can't do this without you. I lo… Just don't die."

He swallowed as he stared at her, the picture she made, then walked away.

_I make no promises_, he thought to himself, flinching at another distant explosion.

* * *

_+1_

The typical, familiar beeping was present when Phil woke up.

He took stock, discreetly flexing each muscle and testing each bone that he could find, from his toes upwards. Nothing hurt until he got to his chest and breathed a bit too deeply. His face scrunched up in pain, and he had to open his eyes, see what kind of hospital he was in. Whether or not they'd won. Whether his sacrifice had been enough to bring the Avengers together in the end. Perhaps he'd overestimated his value to them. Explained why all he could see was the white ceiling and the blue-grey curtains either side of his peripheral vision. There was no hands on him, which was both a relief and a disappointment. And, as he'd noticed when he first woke up, there was the beeping of a heart monitor. Well, he wasn't dead.

Huh. Loki had stabbed him in the chest. He was sure of it. Death wasn't instantaneous. Maybe it would've been better if it had been. Phil didn't know enough about science to say what kind of injury he must have sustained for it not to be immediately fatal, and… apparently curable, considering he was here. Or he'd sinned enough during his lifetime to deserve an eternity of hospital hell. Talk about sadism.

Just in case he was missing anything, he hummed, which set him coughing weakly, and exacerbated the pain in his chest. No one came to his aid, which meant he really was alone. Well, the hospital staff would know if something went wrong with him, and that's all he needed, really. Medical care. He looked around anyway, just in case he had a visitor who was sleeping deeply. It made him giddy, and when his head was back in position he closed his eyes to halt the dizziness.

He must have fallen asleep, because next time he awoke the room was no longer just white, blue, grey, and empty of everyone but him. There were flowers, some obnoxiously big balloons, and a bunch of cards crammed onto any available surfaces. He squinted, and focussed on getting his arms to work. He tried to reach out for a card, but it was too much, and his arm fell back against his side, knocking an empty plastic cup to the floor as well. Deciding that rest was the best medicine, he tried sleep again.

"…third time lucky. Come on, Phil. I swear, you're not alone anymore."

"Shit, this is why hospitals shouldn't have restricted hours on people in ICU!"

"Shh, Tony. This is why we installed a security camera."

"We've missed him twice. Makes me feel like scum. He's gotta wake up soon, right, Bruce?"

"His heart rate has picked up. He's probably gathering energy to stir himself and open his eyes."

Phil considered going back to sleep just to be contrary, but both his hands were occupied, a big one with calluses, a smaller one with sharp nails. He tried not to hope, especially since he hadn't heard her voice, but he couldn't resist peeking to check. After all, _she'd_ kissed _him_ before running off to find Clint while he ran off to get himself stabbed through the heart. Kind of poetic, when he thought about it.

A shock of red hair. When he was able to focus, he noticed that yes, it was Natasha, and Clint was on his other side. He tried to squeeze their hands, but it didn't matter. Banner had noticed he was awake, and sighed in relief.

"Hello, Agent Coulson," he said. "Nice to see you back in the land of the living."

"Good to be…" he tried, but then began coughing. Natasha raised the bed while Clint grabbed a cup from the freezer. Ice chips, then. Joy of joys.

"Here you are, sir," he said.

"Thor said sorry he couldn't make it," Banner continued. "But he left this."

Rogers placed a large envelope on the bed covers over Phil's legs. It went from his knees to the top of his thighs, and he gave Phil a small smile.

"We all signed it," Stark added, shuffling in place. "Pepper's mad at you for nearly dying, by the way. Well, you _did_ die, but not for long."

"I'll try to do better next time," Phil croaked. He accepted more ice chips, and glanced at the card, then up at the captain. "Was that necessary?"

"That's not the last of them," Rogers said, wide-eyed and earnest. Those were his Captain America eyes. Hell. And _hello_.

"I hope you're not planning on giving me any more," he said. He looked around the room. "Weren't these enough?"

"These were from people at SHIELD," Banner said. "And your apartment neighbours. And the woman at the corner shop who makes those donuts you love, according to Agent Hill. The word must have gotten around in your neighbourhood. I don't know whether there's any from your family…"

"Haven't got one," Phil said. "Only child. Orphan. Parents the same."

There was silence, only broken by Clint returning the rest of the ice chips to the freezer, obviously satisfied that enough of Phil's voice had returned.

"I'm sorry," Natasha said.

"No need."

"Can I… talk to you for a minute?" she said. "Alone?"

At Clint's prodding, the rest of them filed out, until it was just Phil and Natasha. He held up a hand.

"You didn't have to hug me," he said. "Just because we might die."

"And you _did_ die. It took them nearly a minute to get your heart back up and running. It happened twice, and we were there the second time."

"…Oh."

"When I was at the Red Room, we were told that if we met our soulmate, to make them work for it. We were supposed to wait for our soulmate to make the first move."

He stared at her. "I… I was giving you the opportunity to come to me, if you wanted…"

"Which is considerate," she said. "But I wish you hadn't waited."

"Natasha… _everyone_ saw how I felt about you. Feel."

"No, 'felt' is right," she said. "My soulmark's changed, and I'll bet yours has, too."

"Changed?" His stomach dropped. "What?"

"Bruce said that… when a person dies, even if it's not for long, Fate can change her mind. Because we didn't act on… on the words, she… reassigned us. So to speak. My words are the same, but the writing is different. Apparently it's usual. Someone doesn't even have to die, if they take too long, or if there's some big change."

"That's stupid!" He winced at the ache when he tried to sit up, and had to relax back into the pillows. Natasha shook her head.

"I should've seen what everyone else saw," she said. "Then maybe…"

"Forget about fate. You have to know I love you, Natasha. Even without being soulmates. I _told_ you that, remember?"

"Yes, but it's going to be different now. Your soulmate could be anyone you might've met before dying. Your internal system has been reset, to quote Bruce."

He sighed, and squeezed Natasha's hand. "I would've been happy with friendship."

"We can have that. I thought we already did."

"You never made that clear." She bowed her head. "I've gone about this all the wrong way. I'm sorry, Natasha."

"Don't be. We've both made mistakes. We can start again with other people."

"If I don't want to?"

She stood up swiftly. "We don't have a choice."

"Natasha," he tried.

"I'll see you later, Phil. Visiting hours are nearly at an end."

He watched her go, mourning the loss, and wondering how the hell he could move on with someone else. Well, Natasha had never been his in the first place… Damn it, he _should've_ followed everyone's advice. He was paying the price for that now.

No one could ever match up to the way he felt about her.

Could they?

* * *

The surprise party was a hell of a lot to take in, and Phil had to sit down only five minutes after it started. People kept coming over to talk to him. It was certainly more extravagant than the one his neighbours had thrown for him, but it had just as much heart, which was the important thing. When Phil needed a break, Clint perched on the sofa behind him and glared away anyone who tried to start a conversation. After Clint left, Steve sat beside Phil.

"I hope this wasn't too much," he said. "I suggested having a party for when you got back, and Tony insisted on… everything getting out of hand."

"Was that necessary?" Phil asked. He was gesturing towards the pile of presents nearby, but Steve was frowning at him. "What is it, Captain?"

"Call me Steve."

"What is—"

"Those were… your first words to me. After you woke up in hospital."

"And…?"

Steve exhaled. "Bucky was my soulmate. My words… _word_ for him was 'Duck!', and his words for me were 'Was that necessary?'. The writing changing recently, which is weird, because I thought it would've disappeared, but then Bruce told me it was the norm for soulmates who've lost their partner in some way. Phil… Natasha told us about the two of you, and how her writing's changed. H-has yours?"

Phil clenched his fists, resting on his knees, and nodded. "Yes. I noticed it yesterday. The same words that Natasha first spoke to me. 'That's not the last of them.'"

"So you think…?"

"You were the one who brought it up, Capt… Steve."

"And if we _are_ soulmates?" he asked, lowering his voice. The music was loud, but half the people in the room were professional spies. Phil pursed his lips while he thought about it.

"I don't want to lose another soulmate," he said. "But I'm aware that our first meeting was…"

"Uncomfortable?"

"To say the least. My behaviour was unprofessional—"

"You made me feel needed in this time," Steve said. "No one else had."

"Steve—"

"Please!" He bit his lower lip and looked down. "Please, Phil. I lost Bucky, I lost Peggy, I lost… everyone. Just… gimme a chance, would ya?"

"As friends?"

Steve glanced away and cleared his throat. "At first. Can't help thinking about where my mark is, what it might mean…"

"You don't think it'd be awkward?" Phil said, now contemplating the placement of _his_ mark, and wondering what possibilities had the captain so bashful.

"Why would it be…?"

"Because of Natasha. Because… she can read lips." He moved his eyes subtly. Natasha was certainly in their line of sight. Not that she was looking when Steve checked – she was too good – but she was tense enough to suggest that she'd been following their hushed conversation.

"I don't wanna make the same mistakes you two did," Steve said.

Phil considered it, and then nodded. It was worth it for Steve's beaming, relieved smile.

* * *

Natasha knew that Phil still cared about her, but not the way he used to. One part of her was relieved; he might have been what she needed when she joined SHIELD, and maybe things would've turned out differently if she'd let him in and not spent all her time with Clint; but he was so inherently good and good-natured that she'd feared dragging him down into her darkness. However, the other part of her was pure remorse, that she hadn't seen him giving her control over their relationship, hadn't seen his feelings sooner.

Fate had given up letting someone else help her. She couldn't rely on other people to drag her _out_ of her darkness. Time to stop playing the role of a well-adjusted person, and actually force herself to become that person. Maybe she could even help someone else?

Thoughts like these were a good way to kill time on missions where a lot of sitting around was involved. It was harder when they were all out, and she could see Phil and Steve sitting close together, talking and flirting and completely oblivious to the seventeen times they could have taken care of the tension, this week alone.

"Winter Soldier's on the move," Clint said. They sprang into action, Natasha jumping to the ground below before Steve had even picked up his shield. There were others after the Winter Soldier, reminding her of when Clint and Phil brought her in.

She was engaged with one combatant when she saw a grenade being tossed their way.

"Duck!" she shouted at the Winter Soldier, and she pointed. They both leapt for cover, and there was an explosion. It took awhile after that, as more attackers – were they wearing the HYDRA insignia? – emerged from nearby, some dropped from cloaked planes overhead. Thor and Iron Man did what they could, with Coulson running things from behind the scenes. When one plane was close enough, Clint hit it with an exploding arrow. Natasha took a leaf out of Cap's book, and used a dustbin lid as a shield to protect her from additional bullets while fighting off two more HYDRA agents. Once they were down, she looked around, breathing heavily.

"No additional heat signatures detected," Coulson said, still in full agent mode. "Nothing coming up on cameras. No more movements. Unless they've got a super working for them, it seems we're clear. Bring in the Winter Soldier."

Natasha was the closest, and approached him cautiously. His eyes flicked over her, lingering on the metal shield, and he exhaled shakily.

"I love you," he said.

Then he dropped to his knees, and Steve was somehow there before Natasha, whose mind was all over the place. What just happened?

"Bucky?" he was saying. "Bucky, shit, is that you? Buck?"

"Yeah, punk?" he mumbled, before finally looking Steve in the face. He glanced from Steve to Natasha, rapidly back and forth. "What…? Where am I, St—"

"You're home, Bucky," Steve said, and he hugged him. Natasha heard Phil's quiet gasp over the comms, before he cut his line.

No way was she letting Steve screw this up. She'd already hurt Phil; she wasn't letting him do the same thing. She squatted in front of the Winter Soldier and waited for him to look at her.

"You said my soul words," she said. Steve's head whipped around, and… Barnes frowned.

"You're not… Steve is," he said. Steve winced, and dropped his arms.

"Not anymore," he said. "My mark changed, and I'm bettin' yours did, too."

"But then…"

"I heard Natasha say 'Duck'. That was your soulmark before, and should still be. Just in a different writing."

"Steve…"

"I'm sorry, Bucky. You're still my friend, but I have another soulmate now, and… you've got Natasha. If she's willing." He shot her a sharp look. She stared straight back.

"Don't even, Rogers," she said. "Phil's no longer on the comms. Your unit is still on. He heard you reuniting with your former soulmate. Don't you think you should go find him?"

Steve's eyes widened as she spoke. "Phil… I have to go to him. But Bucky…"

"I'll stay with him," she said. "He needs me at the moment. I can help him. Phil needs you to reassure him that you're not going to leave him for Barnes."

"Yeah, go on," Bucky said, pushing him weakly. "Let the dame look after me."

Steve paused, and then ran off, clipping his shield on his back as he went. Natasha helped Barnes stand up.

"Are you hurt?" she asked. He nodded. "Let's get you to medical."

"They'll hurt me."

"They won't."

He frowned, looking her up and down again. "We've met?"

"A long time ago." She wasn't going into her history with the Red Room in public. "I'll tell you later."

"But… Steve… How do I…?"

"Move on from him?" He nodded, his eyes betraying his anguish. "I don't know. I had to move on from Phil. But I was never bonded to him."

"We weren't, either. I didn't want to. Kept thinkin' he'd die. Didn't…" He shook his head as Natasha helped him into their medical van. Bruce was resting on one of the two beds, and one eye cracked open as Barnes sat opposite.

"We both failed them," she said. "They have each other, and we're _not_ ruining that for them. If you don't want me, then that's… But if you do, we're going to be smart about it. Is that understood?"

"I…"

She softened. "We'll talk about that later, as well."

"Don't build up too many yesterdays," Bruce muttered, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. "Okay. What've we got?"

* * *

"You have to know that it's over," Steve said. Phil had been busily packing up the scanning equipment, and was trying to shove the case into the trunk of his Corvette.

"He was your best friend," Phil said, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat. "I know that you loved him. He's alive, so… that changes things. Y-you can go back to him, bond again—"

"We never bonded before," Steve said, grabbing Phil's wrist as he huffed. "Phil, for God's sake, what would you do? Go back to Natasha? You still love her."

"Like a friend," Phil said. "I learnt how to let go."

"And you think I didn't have to learn that seventy years ago, and then after my mark changed because of you?"

"I'm sorry, Steve."

"No, don't be sorry!" He yanked Phil close. "Look, I have to help Bucky, if he lets me. But that changes _nothing_ between us, Phil."

"Is there anything between us?"

"You _know_ there is." Then he was kissing Phil without warning, like a starving man, and Phil felt himself being pushed up against Lola. He wound his fingers into Steve's hair, pulled him closer, tilted his head as he deepened the kiss and swallowed Steve's growl.

"Okay," he conceded when Steve finally let him breathe again. "Something between us."

"At the moment that something is clothes," Steve said. "Only one kinda debriefing on my mind at the moment, the kind done in private."

"Aren't we moving a bit f—"

"If we were movin' any slower turtles'd be overtakin' us."

"Cap, your comm. unit is still on," Clint said. Steve scowled up at Clint's last known position, and switched off his unit.

"Damn it, Phil, I wanna bond with you," Steve said. "I was gonna ask you about it over dinner tomorrow, and then Natasha made me realise I could lose you. Not riskin' that. Already lost my chance with Bucky. You're the second chance I might never get again."

Phil pecked him gently on the nose. "Alright. Let's get back to the tower."

"My quarters. The bed's reinforced."

He blushed.

* * *

**Sorry, my overseas friends, but ZOMGPONIES! Mum and I saw **_**Age of Ultron **_**today, and everything has been Jossed! I won't give any details away, although I'll warn for any spoilers in future chapters. It was the first Marvel film my mother had seen at the cinemas. I wore Iron Man socks, an Avengers shirt, and an Avengers cap. And I took my Avengers water bottle. Hope that wasn't overkill.**

**Please review!**


	83. Press Conference (Jemma x Tony)

**Note: Spoilers for 'Agent of SHIELD' S02E18 and possible spoilers for 'Avengers 2: Age of Ultron'. I tried to keep them mild. For 'Ultron' it would mainly be anything revealed and/or implied in the trailers. I certainly haven't given away any major plot points.**

"Press Conference"

Still baffled about how she managed to escape – even from May, which must have surely been impossible – Jemma was striding along the path when she noticed a crowd. She walked over to find out what was going on, and her eyes widened when she heard the Avengers being mentioned. Something about Sokovia, as well, and someone called Ultron, and…

"What's happened?" she asked, poking the woman next to her.

"Watch this," she replied, and showed Jemma a compilation summing up everything which had occurred between the Avengers and a robot army.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. There's a press conference starting soon, just in there." She jerked her head towards the building they were in front of. "That's why we're out here, in case we can see them. Plus, the big screen." She pointed upwards. "Broadcasting on all channels across America."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Jemma nodded, and stepped back when she was jostled. She noticed movement near the stage door, or whatever it was, and gasped when she recognised the man breaking in. There was such a fuss out the front that no one was paying enough attention, and _a HYDRA agent_ was going in. She turned her head, just in case he looked her way and recognised her. When she looked back, the door was closing.

Someone had to warn the Avengers.

There were reporters. If only she had a sign saying 'HYDRA IS HERE' that she could wave in the background! But… there would be people looking for her. If she sneaked into the camera shots, 'real' SHIELD would see her. They could help!

She sidled up to a group waving behind a reporter, made sure that she looked straight at the camera, enough for facial recognition, and then hurried out of the shot. She needed to get backstage, _now_.

Of course the door was locked, but she had ways around that. If HYDRA could get in without trouble, so could Jemma. She pulled out her electronic lock pick. It was disguised as a pen light, and scanned and remotely unlocked the door (one of Fitz's early prototypes, not that he knew she'd kept it). As soon as it clicked, she turned the handle and ducked inside. Everyone was running around, and as long as she was hurrying she fit right in. She got to the crew dressing room and slipped on a black shirt. It allowed her to blend in even better, at… what was it, a conference centre?

"Who's here?" one man called out.

"Iron Man, Captain America, War Machine, and Thor!" someone shouted back.

"Any assistant?"

"Dark-haired woman. Hill, I think her name is."

"She's in the green room," a woman said.

"Can you get these to her?"

"I'll do it," Jemma said quickly, holding out her hand. She accepted the papers.

"That way, go!"

She ran like the wind, excusing herself and keeping an eye out for anyone else she recognised from HYDRA. It seemed to take forever for her to reach the green room. She nearly ran right into Maria Hill, who stared at her.

"Agent Simmons?"

"HYDRA is coming here!" Jemma hissed, pushing the papers into Hill's hands.

"I…" There were more calls outside, and a rush of people. "Wait here, Simmons. We'll keep it on top of it. Is there anyone you can call? Is… the director here?"

"I thought Fury wasn't the director anymore," someone – oh my God, _Steve Rogers_! – said.

"I don't know where any of them are," Jemma said. "Hasn't anyone told you what's going on?"

"Been busy," Hill said. "Look, we have to get out there. We'll keep an eye out for trouble. If you see anything, report it. Known HYDRA agents, ring the fire alarm and follow them, is that clear?"

"Yes, Agent Hill."

Jemma stood out of the way as four men passed by her, each as impressive as the last, even out of costume. _Uniform_, she chastised herself. Thor was with Jane Foster, she knew that, but the others looked her over. Appreciatively, she realised with a small, delighted smile.

But being trapped in a room by herself was _not_ the most sensible option, thank you very much, Agent Hill. So she waited until the rest of the crew rushed past after the Avengers, and then slipped out and headed for the backstage area. She may as well start her search on the other side from the Avengers, and kill time until May or Bobbi or Gonzales or any of them inevitably chased her down here.

Starting at one end of the centre, checking every door she could open, she made her way upstairs to a viewing room.

"Anyone want coffee?" she asked the two technicians there. She stood just behind them as they debated it, and ultimately decided against drinks. "Snacks, then?"

"Thanks, sweetheart, but we don't need any."

"Very well, then. My, it's certainly a large crowd." She leaned forward, her hands resting against the desk, and she angled herself to give her breasts the best advantage while she scanned the auditorium. She put on her pair of magnifying spectacles, making it easier to distinguish the faces of people not asking questions or taking notes.

That man… talk, tanned, dark hair, slim-faced… British accent questioning and threatening her… and the last time she'd seen him was when he was her patient…

"Bakshi," she whispered, horrified. What the hell? Shaking herself out of it, she stood back, and noticed that the technicians quickly returned to their work, clearing their throats. "Thank you for letting me watch. Bye."

As soon as she closed the door behind her, she ran downstairs. If Bakshi was here, the threat had suddenly tripled, at the very least.

"There she is!"

She turned, heart leaping to her throat, and recognised three of the security guards from when she had worked at HYDRA. She ran for it, made for the conference doors, and hoped that if she made enough racket aid would come her way. It seemed that luck was with her when the doors swung open… only for her to run smack bang into Bakshi's chest.

"Dr. Simmons, what an unexpected surprise," he murmured.

"What're you doing here, Bakshi?" she said.

"Following orders."

"Whose orders?" He smirked.

"Someone you know," he said cryptically.

The other men were still approaching. Jemma pursed her lips.

"Follow _this_," she said, kneeing him in the groin. He let go with a pained gasp, and she ran past him into the conference room, where people were shouting questions for the Avengers. She skirted around the audience, her shirt granting her access, until she was nearly at the stage. She was still wearing her glasses, and reactivated the magnifying function now that she had a better view of the attendees. She didn't recognise anyone else, except… wait. That was Dr. Lingenfelter, wasn't it? Looking nervous. But there was a determined clench to her jaw. Was she planning to finish Whitehall's work?

Oh my God. Did she have anything remaining of the Obelisk? Was the plan to use it on the audience… or the Avengers? Or worse, _both_?

Bakshi had just walked in the room, and he subtly gestured to Jemma. The Avengers were debating over some point. She couldn't see Agent Hill, and there was no sign of either SHIELD yet… well, except Steve Rogers' shield on his back, but it wasn't quite the same thing, was it? If only they could get the army…

She blinked. The army.

One table. Behind it four men, one a god and one a super soldier. At least one HYDRA scientist in the audience, armed agents approaching her. Her most comfortable shoes on and a few gadgets in the handbag no one had chosen to comment on.

So she ran onto the stage, creating a ripple through the crowd.

"General Talbot, Sunil Bakshi is here!" she shouted at the cameras.

"Get her!" came from the back of the hall. She glanced to her right, and noticed the Avengers standing. To her left, she saw Lingenfelter stand up. Jemma dashed to the table and pushed it over, knocking the four men down, and she leapt over just before a shot rang out, hitting the wall just above her head.

"What the hell is going on, Hermione?" Tony Stark said. To her. To Jemma. She was _not_ fangirling inside, of course she wouldn't.

But _meep_!

Then he started to kneel up to look, and she threw herself over him, pushing him down, and gave him her fiercest glare.

"Get down unless you want to turn to dust," she said. Then she grabbed her bag and pulled out her ICER. People were screaming, and she took the chance to peek over the edge of the table. Bakshi was running up the stairs, and he looked over the audience long enough to tell Lingenfelter to recharge her weapon. Jemma's hands shook enough for her to be uncertain about hitting him at this distance. A dark hand plucked the gun from hers and shot Bakshi in the side of the head.

"There you are," he said.

"Uh… thank you, Colonel Rhodes." Dr. Lingenfelter aimed again, and Jemma shoved War Machine down this time. Another round of Obelisk fragment punctured the wooden wall behind them. She hoped no one was on the other side.

"What kind of weapon is that?" Thor asked, and his hammer flew into his hand.

"It shoots…" _He's Asgardian_. "It shoots part of a Diviner."

His wide eyes met hers, and she nodded.

"A Kree device is here on Midgard?"

"Yes. HYDRA's been weaponising it." She didn't mention her own part in advising them.

"How can General Talbot help?" Colonel Rhodes asked.

"He has a severe grudge against Bakshi."

"Jemma!"

"May?"

"Hill?"

Jemma scowled at Captain Rogers, who had his shield in hand and was going to stand up.

"Do you want to risk it rebounding on someone else?" she asked.

"I do not know what effect it would have on vibranium," Thor said. "You are well-advised to stay down, Steven."

"What do we do?" the captain said.

"Even a particle of the dust may cause death," Jemma said. "I never had a chance to study its effects outside of what I read."

"So you don't have any ideas?"

"I'm a bio-scientist, not a strategist!"

Mr. Stark was staring at her. Finally, he spoke.

"What did you say to me?" he said.

"About what?" She was searching through her bag for anything else of use. Oh, _why_ did she think it was a good idea to leave the base with so little?

"When you pushed me down."

"Can't remember, sorry," she said.

"Dr. Simmons!"

She froze, and then looked to the side, jaw dropping.

"Mike!" she cried. "What're you doing here?"

"Saving your ass," he said.

"Don't go out there, you might turn to—"

"If Ace sees me being a hero, then I can't think of a better way to go," he replied.

"No, Mike!" She tried to get up, but HYDRA was still firing the occasional shot, making people scream. And honestly, wasn't nearly every American armed? Surely there were people in the crowd who could fight back? Some kind of security? Regardless, she was pulled back down, bumping her head against the stage, and Tony Stark was looming over her.

"Did you say 'Get down unless you want to turn to dust'?" he asked.

"I… I don't know. Maybe?"

"Because I called you Hermione."

Her heart nearly stopped beating, and her lips parted. "Oh."

"You stay down, let us deal with this." He held out his arm and crooked it, and there was a whirring sound as parts of the Iron Man armour flew out and began to attach themselves to him. He rolled off her, and she scrabbled back against the table. To her dismay, Thor and Captain Rogers both leapt over the table, and Colonel Rhodes was being covered with his armour as well. She stayed down, glancing to the side to see May and Hill.

But she couldn't move, even as Iron Man and War Machine flew over the table and joined the fight.

Tony Stark was her soulmate.

"My God," she murmured.

"Jemma, get over here _now_, while they're distracted!" May shouted at her. She scrabbled to get her things back into her bag. Someone must have been behind her, because May raised a gun and shot whomever it was. Jemma ran for it, and reached the wings safely. But she stayed on the other side of Hill from May, and glanced around nervously for any of 'real' SHIELD.

"You saw me on the news, I gather?" she said.

"Nice trick with the cameras," May said.

"Iron Man… he…"

"The rest of the team is dealing with the HYDRA threat outside. The blonde woman who was shooting at you is down. It won't be much longer. Let's get you out of here."

"No."

"It's alright, Simmons, you did a good job," Hill said, patting her back. "Let the Avengers finish dealing with this."

"I'm not going back to the Playground! Where's Coulson?"

"He's being brought back into custody, but he doesn't have the toolbox."

"He's…? At this rate, I rather want to shake Nick Fury by the shoulders," Jemma remarked. "And give him back that bloody toolbox. It's been nothing but trouble for us lately." She looked around, crossing her arms and fidgeting. "Does anywhere know where it is?"

"Not yet," May said. "You didn't follow exit protocols, Simmons. You _will_ have to come back with us."

"No, she won't."

They all turned to look at Iron Man. The armour opened up far enough for Tony to step out and walk over to them. He glanced at Jemma, and then focussed on the other two women. Come to think of it, the sounds of fighting had stopped. A peek around the curtain showed that it was all over.

"Stark, stay out of this," May said. "It isn't your problem. Simmons, come on. We need to stick together."

"I don't feel safe at the Playground anymore."

"_Nowhere_ is safe for us anymore. At least you'll be among friends."

"Not while Fitz and Skye aren't there. But I _do _know that you'll regret taking Coulson in. He must have some plan, and you _know_ it will work."

"Coulson?" Tony said, his voice sharp. Jemma winced, and he sighed. "She's not going with you. She's already said no, so back off."

"You don't have the right to say that, Stark," May began.

"Oh, I have a right to protect my soulmate," he said, and their jaws dropped. "Jemma, isn't it?"

"My first name is Hermione, thanks to my soulmark, but after the Harry Potter books became popular I chose to use my middle name for work purposes, and eventually it stuck. Fitz knows, and teases me about it, bless him."

"Him? Should I be jealous?"

"No. There's nothing like… like _that_ between us."

"Good. Let's go, sweetheart. Got your stuff with you?"

"This is all I could risk taking when I ran," she said, indicating her handbag. He pursed his lips, and then nodded.

"We'll take care of that later," he said. "Do you want to come with me?"

"Yes, please," she said quickly. His lips began to curl into a smirk, and she realised the double entendre. "I'd… I'd like to go with you."

"Okay then." He held out his elbow, and she took hold. "I think the press conference is over."

"Seems like it." She glanced at May on the way past, but couldn't think of anything to say to the woman, and continued to trot at Tony's side, the armour following them like a creepy cybernetic bodyguard. Literally, without the creepy part.

"I'll try not to let the team swamp you," he continued. "At least we came in a big car. Plenty of room."

"Where's everyone else?"

"Scattered. Got a hell of a story to tell." His eyes narrowed. "So do you. When you say Coulson…?"

She nodded to the unspoken question. "It was terrible. Involved alien blood. He almost lost his mind. I think he's terrified of telling you… seeing any of you at all."

"We're not _that_ intimidating."

Jemma snorted delicately, and nodded at Thor, Captain Rogers, and Colonel Rhodes, all waiting outside the ludicrously, impractically large vehicle.

"No, not intimidating at _all_," she said dryly.

* * *

For some reason he insisted on keeping it secret, and on Jemma calling all the Avengers by their first names (or nicknames). So Rhodey, Steve, and Thor were bright-eyed and tight-lipped as they all rode up in the lift to what must have been the Avengers' common area. But they insisted on Tony and Jemma going out first, and he seemed happy enough to strut forward with a smug grin on his face.

"Look who I found," he said.

"Who did you find?" Pepper Potts asked, not looking up from the papers she was flicking through.

"My soulmate." That made everyone look up. "We still have to compare soulmarks, but I found her!"

"We found each other," Jemma corrected him. "I'm the one who knocked the four of you to the floor to protect you."

"That was you?" Natasha Romanov said. Jemma couldn't stop internally fangirling.

"I had to do something. It was the most expedient course of action, and rather effective."

"The army's at the convention centre," Pepper said, pointing at the television. "General Talbot's there now. JARVIS, could we have sound?"

"…cleaning up more HYDRA agents. I'd like to thank the young woman who alerted us to the situation at great personal risk. The people at this centre – and four of the Avengers – owe her a debt of gratitude, along with the man known as Mike Peterson, who stepped in to help the Avengers eliminate the threat. But we do _not_ encourage this behaviour from civilians—"

"Thank you, JARVIS," Pepper said. Jemma was blushing, her face pressed into the material of Tony's shirt, glad that Mike was safe. Tony tugged her close.

"My heroine," he murmured into her hair. "I'd be interested in knowing where your soulmark is, sweetheart."

"I'll show you, if you behave yourself."

"And if I _don't_ behave myself?"

She cleared her throat, registering everyone else's looks of amusement. "I think I should call my family and let them know that it really was me, not a double. They think I'm dead, and if this ends up on the news in the UK…"

"Let me help you," Tony said.

"No. I want to know where the rest of my team is. Could… could you find them? Fitz and Hunter? Although it seems that Coulson may be going back to the Playground, and while I'm sure he has his reasons… Oh dear. I wish they kept me up-to-date."

"I'll do whatever I can to help you, Jemma."

She smiled. "Perhaps you'll see my soulmark sooner, rather than later."

"Best possible incentive you could offer."

* * *

**My mum's nearly caught up with 'Agents of SHIELD', which is exciting! I'm sad that there are only a few episodes left to go until the end of the season, and panicking about everything that's going on. Fan fiction is necessary in life, to heal the aching heart.**

**Please review! Pairing requested by Bullla.**


	84. Cutie in Glasses (Deadpool x Fitz)

**Note: Set at the start of S02E18, specifically when Fitz is being tailed.**

"Cutie in Glasses"

Remy was still grumbling when Wade teleported them to the street on the map, in sunny California.

"This the one, this the one, this the one?"

"Oui," Remy said. "You remember what I told you?"

"Wearing glasses, gonna start running, guys in black chasing him. Got it."

"You'll meet him anyway."

"Yeah, but maybe you were always supposed to show me the way, Gambit," Wade said, clapping him on the back. "Good luck finding your soulmate."

Remy pointed. "Go, Deadpool. He's coming for you."

Wade slid his sunglasses down over his eyes. "Oh no he's not. Not yet. Not until I get him into bed. Or against a wall, I guess, as long as our soulmarks meet u—"

"Less talking, more running."

"Need a leap back to New Orleans?" The only reason he wasn't talking as much was his excitement about seeing his soulmate soon. Remy snorted.

"Not letting you miss this, mon ami."

Then he nudged Wade along, and that's when he saw him. His soulmate. The boy with curly hair, striding through the crowd and looking back over his shoulder. Wade teleported across the street right next to him.

"Hey, soulmate of mine, how're you doing? You need some help? `Cause I'm here now, which guarantees a win, so just tell me what you want me to do, who to cut up, because I'm so there, babe. And _damn_, you look hot in specs."

Curls gaped at him, obviously dumbfounded. Wade stepped closer, and dropped his voice.

"Tell me what to do," he said.

The man licked his lips, glanced to the right, and Wade saw a man in black walking towards them.

"Run," he said. "Just run."

He grabbed Wade's wrist, and they began to sprint. Wade noticed the stranger following them.

"I can get us there quicker," he said. "I'll _always_ get you there quicker, beautiful."

"Erm, I'm meeting someone."

"Can I tag along? Because I don't wanna let you outta my sight now that I've finally got you, and seen how cute you are in gl—"

"Stairs."

Wade raised his eyebrows, and ogled his soulmate's backside as they ran up a few flights of concrete steps to the rooftop of a building. Then his soulmate clutched Wade's wrist again and pulled him over to… a disembodied ramp appearing. Oh! An invisible plane, right? How exciting! He laughed as they ran in, especially when he saw the faces of the men inside. The ramp raised up after them, pushing him into Wade's arms.

"I'm liking this more and more," he said. "Tell me your name, gorgeous."

"Um… Leo. Leopold Fitz. Uh, everyone calls me Fitz. Pretty much everyone."

"I think I'll call you Leo. Hi. I'm Wade Wilson."

"Shit," one of the men said. "Deadpool?"

"Incognito, but that can change," Wade said, patting the pouch at his side. "Brought my stuff with me."

"He-he's my soulmate, sir," Leo said.

"Fantastic," the man said dryly. He held out his hand. "Phil Coulson, director of SHIELD. Sort of." They all glanced at the monitor in time to see one of the men in black run into the side of the jet, and winced collectively. Except Wade, who focussed on one thing.

"SHIELD? Ooh! You're the good guys, right? Perfect way to get started on my road to redemption. Or continue on the road. Whatever. I'll always be on your team, Leo, that's a no-brainer. Hey, got any enemies for me to wipe out? Just wait `til you see my arsenal. I can't wait to see yours." He waggled his eyebrows. Leo swallowed.

"Erm, perhaps we'd better sit down," he said.

"You sit next to me," Wade said, spinning Leo into one seat and perching on the one next to him. He continued to talk as they strapped themselves in. "So, that accent."

"I'm Scottish."

"It's cute. Just like you. Especially in those glasses. I just wanna eat you up… but that sounds creepy, right?"

"Just a tad."

"A tad? Is that a quantifiable measure?"

"Quanti…" Leo was still staring at him.

"A quantifiable measure of ti—"

He was kinda surprised when his soulmate took the initiative and yanked him into a kiss. It wasn't the most co-ordinated, but then they were at an awkward angle, and Wade seriously wasn't prepared for this. Not that he wasn't exceptionally happy about it, because boy was he ever! And Leo responded well to a hint of teeth, if that strangled groan was anything to go by. Yummy.

"Ehem."

With a sigh, they had to pull apart.

"What?" Wade griped. "I'm not allowed to be kissed my soulmate? I don't know whether you noticed, or whether you read TV Tropes, but this guy here is the dictionary definition of adorkable. A cute nerd. I wanna wrap you up in bubblewrap and keep you safe from all the bad guys, Leo. Then pop all the little holes, `cause that's fun. Then maybe I can get around to _your_ little h—"

"Erm, that's enough!" Leo said, wide-eyed. "This… this is Hunter. A-and this is Mike. Wait, Mike? You're here?"

"Hey, Fitz."

"Is that new hardware?"

"They're also on our team," Coulson said over the top of him. "Catch up later, Fitz."

"So what do you do at SHIELD?" Wade asked, raking his eyes up and down his delicious dork.

"I'm an engineer."

"The best we have," Coulson said. "Fitz, Deadpool is, uh…"

"I'm a mutant," Wade said. "Very good with swords." He winked at Leo, delighting in the blush that brought. "Want me to polish your s—"

"D-did you want to join SHIELD?" Leo said. Yeah, definitely the bashful type. Oh, Wade was gonna have so much fun with him.

"I'd love to, but I'm thinking I've gotta ask your director."

"I can't deny you'd be an asset to the team," Coulson said, looking Wade over. "If even half of what I've heard about you is true, you'd make an excellent field agent. Definitely _not_ undercover, but in combat…"

"Want a demonstration?"

"Not while we're flying!" Mike called over his shoulder.

"Got it."

"No costume?" Hunter said. "I thought powered people liked costumes."

"I'll show you later," Wade said. "Gotta show off to my soulmate here, make sure he wants to keep me."

"I do, definitely," Leo said quickly, which warmed Wade's non-existent heart.

"Babe, you don't even know me yet."

"I don't have to. You're my soulmate. If I can't trust you, who can I trust?"

"And God knows we all have trust issues," Hunter muttered.

"So, honey," Wade said, and he sneaked a hand onto Leo's thigh. "Where's your soulmark?"

"Oh. It's, uh… it's…" He dropped his voice to a mumble. "Back of my left thigh. Here." He moved Wade's hand down to the underside of his leg. Wade's eyes widened as the dots connected.

"Fuck," he breathed. "I could seriously hammer bricks into place with my dick right now." Leo choked on air. "Wanna know where my soulmark is? Right here." He tapped the right side of his abdomen. "Oh, I'm looking forward to bonding with you, sweetheart. I hope you're as flexible as the position suggests."

"I… I don't know…"

"Well, we'll have lots of fun finding out! Where's your base? I hope there are separate bunks. Separate rooms would be better. With soundproofing. Boy, we'll need soundproofing, I can tell ya. Got super endurance, which means super _stamina_." The blush on Leo's cheeks deepened. "You'll need cough drops. Lots of `em. I'm gonna fold you like paper, and then—"

"We're trying to establish a base of operations," Coulson said. Wade tore his gaze away from Leo, whose eyes were starting to glaze over. Did he wear those glasses all the time? If so, it was gonna be hard for Wade to keep his hands off him. "Deadpool? Are you paying attention?"

"Yes, Director Coulson, sir." He saluted, and Coulson subtly rolled his eyes.

"It's a bit difficult to establish a base, because it seems that wherever we go, someone finds us and our safe house is compromised."

"Speaking of compromised bases," Leo said, rummaging in his backpack.

"You got Fury's toolbox?"

"Here." Leo tossed a little black box with silver edges to the director, and Wade watched in fascination at the holographs which popped up.

"Much neater than little yellow boxes!" he said.

"And much more innocuous," Leo said.

"Well, I think I can help with a temporary base," Wade said. "Ever been to Westchester County? Actually, scratch that. If Logan's there, he'll just kill me again, and I don't wanna put you through that trauma, Leo."

"K-kill—?"

"Yeah, I kinda don't stay dead. It's a habit of mine. Mostly because I pissed Death off, and he doesn't wanna see me again, so… yeah. Uh, who haven't I pissed off, actually? The Avengers are cooped up all safe and sound—"

"No," Coulson said. "They think I'm dead."

Wade blinked, but rolled with it. "I haven't met the Fantastic Four yet, so they won't turn us away on the spot. Yay! Let's go to the Fantastic Four. And hell, putting _those_ two in the same place is just another excuse for the author to write Coul—"

Don't ruin the surprise, Wade! For goodness sake…

"What… author?" Leo said.

See what you've done? Now I have to explain that away.

"Just a quirk of mine," Wade said, waving his hand. "Super powers. Got `em through experimentation. So I guess I'm more a mutate than a mutant? Ugh, so many universes. Makes things so confusing. How'd you come to hear about me, Coulson? Did you read the other chapters or something? Or did you go on the wiki?"

"I know of you by reputation only," Coulson said. "Quite a reputation, at that."

Wade preened. "I'm good with my hands. And my mouth." He smirked at Leo. "I'm not called the Merc with a Mouth because I talk a lot. Well, not _just_ because of that."

"C-can we decide on a destination already?" Leo said. "Mike, how long until we get to New York?"

"Ooh, I've got an idea," Wade said. "Warren doesn't hate me. I've worked for him before. He pays well, and he's on our side. New York's kinda the hub for super powered people, especially rich super powered people."

"Warren?" Coulson said. "You're not… talking about Warren Worthington the Third, are you?"

"We can land on the Baxter Building, and I'll get Archangel's number from… I don't know, the directory. Susan Storm should be a pushover, and you seem like the kinda guy who could mediate arguments between the others, Coulson. And there are other rooms available, so _we_ can get to know each other, babe." He squeezed Leo's knee. "Maybe practise for our bonding?"

"Or… or get to know each other first," Leo said. "Before, you know, uh… g-going to bed."

"Whatever you want, sweet cheeks. Just say, and I'll make it happen. That includes eliminating your enemies. Point `em out, and they're as good as dead."

"…Sweet. Disturbing, but sweet."

"I can see what you mean about having him with us," Hunter said to Coulson. "Between Deadpool and Deathlok, HYDRA doesn't stand a chance."

"Not if they're threatening my soulmate, they don't," Wade said, his voice sharper. "No one gets away with trying to hurt my Leo. Heh. Can I nickname you 'my lion'?"

"Is there any point in trying to stop you?"

"Nope."

* * *

Jemma looked up from the fake toolbox when there was the crack of… something. A man in red and black appeared in the lab, grabbed one of the scientists, and disappeared again. She rubbed her eyes and looked at the others.

"Did I hallucinate that?" she said. They were all gaping at the empty space, shaking their heads. "Oh dear."

The same crack happened, and the man reappeared with the lab worker in tow.

"Feminine pronouns don't mean anything these days, I don't know why he doesn't understand that, anyone here could identify as female internally. How am I supposed to know? Uh, you look like a chick."

He grabbed another scientist and disappeared with her. Jemma put her glasses down and stepped around the table, approaching gingerly. She still jumped when there was another crack. Another scientist returned.

"What's going on in here?" Bobbi asked, bursting into the room with her batons at the ready. "Who the hell are you?"

"It's not that one," he said. "Which is it?"

"Can I… help you with something, sir?" Jemma said. He straightened up as he turned to face her.

"English accent!" he said. "Must be you."

Then he grabbed hold of her. She yelped as they disappeared, reappearing in a small space. She shoved him back, scowling.

"Do you make a habit of abducting SHIELD scientists?" she said.

"Jemma! Thank God you're here."

She whirled around, and smiled in relief.

"Fitz! You… you know him?"

"I'm his soulmate, doc," the man in red told her, and he moved to Fitz's side. Jemma's friend was rubbing the back of his head and grinning sheepishly. Then she processed what he'd said.

"Soulmate?" she said. "Oh… my goodness. Uh, congratulations, Fitz! This was just…"

"Unexpected?" Fitz said.

"To say the least."

"Sorry about that, but we couldn't afford another agent being tailed," Coulson said.

"Sir! You're here as well?"

"Thank you for getting the toolbox out of there, Jemma."

"I'm afraid… I told May that the other one is a fake."

He sighed, and squeezed her shoulder. "It's okay. We got you out of there. Do we need to rescue anyone else? To be more accurate, do you need Wade to…"

"Kidnap?"

"Liberate," Wade said.

"Liberate anyone else?" Coulson finished.

"I haven't seen Billy or Sam, but May's fine. She's… complying with them." Jemma winced.

"I see."

"I'm sure she has a plan."

"Well, right now _we_ have a plan," Coulson said. "Fitz wanted you here, which is why we sent—"

"Me, Wade Wilson, aka Deadpool." Fitz's soulmate shook her hand. "You must be the incomparable Jemma Simmons. I'm super-intimidated, by the way, and slightly terrified because of my past experiences with medical scientists, but you're Fitz's best friend, which means you must be okay."

"In the meantime, I should explain our plan," Coulson said after Fitz clapped a hand over Wade's mouth to shut him up.

"Yes, perhaps you should," Jemma said.

"We're at the top of the Baxter Building, about to meet the Fantastic Four. No one will be expecting that move, since none of us have ever met anyone from the team."

"Well…" She glanced around nervously. "Aside from the fact that Reed Richards… gave me first prize at a science fair once. But I doubt he'll remember me." She cocked her head, and then grinned. "Mike! I'm so pleased to see you. How are you?"

"Better than the last time we met," he said, giving her a thumbs-up from the pilot seat.

"Gonzales won't be expecting us to come here," Coulson continued. "He might expect us to go to the Avengers, even though they probably hate me, and Wade doesn't want to see the X-Men again just yet. So we thought we'd go here first, see if the Fantastic Four is willing to let us lie low for a few days."

"It's a perfectly plausible plan. I… don't suppose you've seen Hunter?"

"He's liaising with the Fantastic Four as we speak."

"Good." She nodded, and then glanced at Fitz with a smile. "Tell me how you met your soulmate."

"You would not _believe_ how cute he is in glasses," Wade said. "He wouldn't let me ravish him in front of the others, so he has to promise not to wear them in public, just in case I react inappropriately."

"Best for all concerned," Fitz said, leaning against Wade's side.

There was a knock on the outside wall, and they saw Hunter on the screen, along with a man who definitely wasn't Reed Richards.

"That must be Johnny Storm," Phil said. "Lower the hatch, Mike."

"Yes, sir."

Hunter grinned when he saw Jemma.

"Got you out of the lions' den?" he asked.

"Intact as well," she said. "Although my things are still there…"

"We'll go back and get `em now, if you want to," Wade said, holding out a hand. "No surprise jumps this time. Probably. Unless you want me to scare the shit out of a few people for you, in which case just tell me. What's the fun in being able to teleport if you can't abuse the power shamelessly?"

"While you're deciding whether or not to give Robert Gonzales a heart attack," Coulson said, moving past them and down the ramp.

"This is Phil Coulson, director of SHIELD, or whatever we are now," Hunter said. "Sir, this is Johnny Storm."

"Thank you for coming up to meet us," Coulson said, shaking his hand. "I hope it doesn't signal anything ominous."

Storm's lips parted as he looked Coulson up and down. "No, nothing like that. Well, not anymore." He grinned widely. "Come inside."

"…I'm sorry?"

Jemma knew the soulmarks of everyone on the team – doctor's privilege – and she cleared her throat.

"He just said your soulmark words, sir," she said.

"Yeah, I… I got that."

"I called it!" Wade said. "Totally knew she was gonna do that. Coulson plus Fantastic Four means the inevitable Coulstorm. No one should be surprised anymore."

Shut up, Wade!

* * *

**I should never allow myself to be dragged into the crazy ramblings of Wade Wilson, but it's SO MUCH FUN!**

**Everyone needs to write more Fitz-in-glasses, because I damn near swooned in that sequence where he was shaking the tail. (Oh God. Now I've got an image of animal or part-animal or furry!Fitz wearing glasses. Not good. Brain is breaking.) In the upcoming Bruce/Fitz chapter, they'll both have to wear glasses, because if my brain's going to break, I'm taking the rest of you down with me. Mwa-ha-ha-ha!**

**Please review. :D**


	85. Requires Experimentation (JSxWhitehall)

**Note: I never would've thought of this pairing. I threw in time travel, which obviously changes things from S02E05 onwards. Google Translate was used. Also, in this AU, everyone is born with their soulmark, regardless of whether or not their soulmate is alive. A lovely little guessing game, no? And no mind-reading or empathic connections. As is often the case, some dialogue taken from an episode.**

"Requires Experimentation"

Jemma was supposed to be training in undercover operations with May, not examining another 0-8-4. A small box, missed by HYDRA when they cleared out most of the Fridge. It could distract her from Fitz for awhile, and May was busy talking to Coulson anyway, so she had time to poke around, see whether she could carry out an examination of the cube. Just to kill time.

Time… funny thing. If it wasn't for time – and that bloody 0-8-4! – Jemma wouldn't been squatting behind a cluster of bins and trying to see whether the cube could be recharged. The green-yellow light had barely flickered in the past hour, and her knees were aching. She shoved the cube into the pocket of her lab coat, and absent-mindedly shoved her glasses in with it. Then she double-checked the date on the discarded newspaper, and regretted ever joining SHIELD, since it left her in _nineteen-forty-four_. A year before World War Two finished, before the Red Skull died, before Steve Rogers went down in the ocean…

If only she could change the past, but the time paradox… who knows what could happen? The variety of theories regarding time travel and trying to change the past and the future… And to think that she was experiencing time travel for herself! It was enough to make her mind spin with the possibilities, the dangers, the opportunities…

Assuming she wasn't killed, and the cube fell into the wrong hands.

Pursing her lips, Jemma waited for it to get dark enough, then thanked her habit of wearing more old-fashioned clothes, because it would be easier to blend in once she dispensed with the white coat.

Oh dear. If only she knew more about… wherever and whenever she was. The paper was in German, but that could've meant anything. She could've been in Poland, in France, in Austria… worst of all, Germany. Her language and accent classes extended to an American accent, schoolgirl French and Italian, and Latin of course.

"_Lupae filius_!" she hissed. She searched the rubbish for a bag and thrust her few personal possessions into it, then bundled and placed her lab coat on top. After that she took to the streets, looking for any signs, names, hints of where she might be. It was cold, certainly, and she shivered as she wrapped her arms around herself. The lamplight was sufficient, more than sufficient with the moon, but there were no recognisable landmarks.

"_Wer sind Sie, Fraulein_?"

Jemma swallowed, and turned around. Please, please, _please_ don't let them be Nazis…

The men weren't in uniform, and there were no Swastikas, but they were armed. She cleared her throat.

"Um… hello. C-could you tell me where I am, please?"

And apparently they didn't trust anyone with an English accent, because they immediately drew their weapons and aimed at her.

"_Auf die Knie_!" one of them shouted. She didn't need to know German to understand what they were asking. She dropped to the ground. "_Hände hinter den Kopf_!" Didn't 'Kopf' mean head? She put her hands behind her head, just in case. The men approached, and she shuffled on her knees, uncomfortably aware of the uneven path digging into her knees.

"_Bringt sie zu Reinhardt_," one man said to another. No clues this time. The second man nodded, and soon she was being 'helped' into the back of a car, fortunately still clutching her bag. She was taken somewhere, and still couldn't work out where she was. The Germans were everywhere around Europe. Well, not _everywhere_, but widespread enough. How she travelled through both time and space without the TARDIS…

Eventually, she was taken to what looked like a big, white castle. Definitely Europe, a mountainous region, and her heart was pounding at an alarming rate as she was taken out of the car again.

_It's alright_, she told herself. _I'll get home. I haven't met my soulmate yet. My soulmark is in English. All I need is to keep the cube with me. Just… need to think of a plausible explanation for it. Were lava lamps around in World War Two? No, it could still be mistaken for the Tesseract. Perhaps. Certainly might be connected. Enough for HYDRA to be interested, and surely I'll end up in their hands? Oh, I hope not._

Her internal monologue came to a halt as she was brought before a tall man with brown hair, glasses, and a hard look about him. He was definitely in uniform. German uniform, surely? The hat looked right. She was pushed to her knees again in front of him, and bowed her head, tears springing to her eyes. What if her soulmark didn't matter? What if she'd somehow met him, and they'd lost each other?

"_Wer ist das_?" he said. She noticed his knees as he squatted in front of her, and tipped her head up, one way and then the other. His hands were encased in (probably leather) gloves. "_Spricht sie Deutsch_?" he asked one of the men who'd brought her.

Brilliant. He didn't think she was worth speaking to. Likely for the best. She lowered her eyes, blinking rapidly. She knew that 'Sprechen sie Deutsch' meant 'Do you speak German', so perhaps he was asking whether she spoke German? In case, she shook her head.

"_Nein, Herr Reinhardt_!" the man barked. Jemma winced, and met Reinhardt's eyes again. He smiled, though there was no warmth to it. Pity; she was sure that if he smiled properly, nicely, he'd look very handsome. Then immediately dismissed the thought as foolish; he was most likely a Nazi. She had no business thinking him attractive in any way.

"Why have they brought you to me, little mouse?" he asked.

First thought: he speaks English, thank God!

Second thought: he just said my soul words. Oh _no_.

"Thank God someone around here speaks English," she said, choosing to go with her first thought. Much less to panic about.

Then his eyes widened. Not too much, but noticeable from up close. The edges of his eyes crinkled in something resembling a genuine smile.

"It seemed… a useful skill to have," he said.

"You said my soulmark," she said, finally mentioning her second thought. At least it might keep her safe a little while longer. And the cube eventually ended up in SHIELD custody, even stayed there after HYDRA-Gate. She knew there were raids after the Red Skull died, led by Peggy Carter and the SSR.

But these particular thoughts left her mind as Reinhardt stood up, took both her hands in his, and helped her rise.

"I will not ask you to show me your mark in public," he said.

"Thank goodness for that," she muttered.

"Come with me," he said, linking their arms together and leading her to a room off the main hall. "_Wartet hier_!"

"_Jawohl_!" the others chorused. It was unnerving, and Jemma struggled to hide her trembling knees. Once alone with Reinhardt, he led her to a chaise lounge and sat beside her.

"Show me your soulmark?" he said. At least it sounded like a question. "Come now, little mouse. A man in my position must be careful."

With a nod, Jemma shuffled to the edge, then slowly raised the skirt of her dress until her knickers were showing. Were they too fancy for this era? Too late to go back now. She paused when she saw the way his entire focus was on her hands, an almost hungry look in his eyes. It was flattering, and she flushed. Finally, she lowered her underwear just enough to show the line of writing that had reassured her it would never be a platonic relationship with her soulmate. Not where it was positioned. She swallowed, and glanced at his face again. He reached out a finger and ran it along the words. She gasped loudly and squirmed away, dropping her dress back into place.

"My apologies," he said.

"Is it your handwriting?"

"Yes."

"Is my mark… the reason you learnt English?" He nodded.

"Would you like to see it?"

"Should I… should I ask where it is?"

"I am sure you can guess," he said, smirking as he unbuckled his belt. With the HYDRA logo on the buckle. She tensed, and he paused.

"Sorry, go on," she said quickly. He took it for nerves, thankfully, and swiftly unbuttoned and lowered his trousers. She saw his corresponding mark, definitely in her writing. "Yes, that's mine. I mean, my writing." She touched her burning cheeks with cold hands as he chuckled, righting his clothes.

"What is your name, little mouse?" he asked.

"Jemma Simmons." Honesty was the best policy, and anything which happened was going to happen. She wouldn't have said it unless she was meant to. She _had_ to believe that, or else she'd go mad second-guessing herself. "They called you Reinhardt, didn't they?"

"My surname," he said. "My first name is Werner."

"What… what would you like me to call you?"

"I hope you will call me Werner… my Jemma."

Then he was kissing her. In retrospect, she should have anticipated that, judging by the appreciative looks he'd been giving her. And if she had any hope of staying alive and somehow getting the cube to the SSR, she had to play along. So she kissed back, keeping it mild and appropriate for a girl of this era, although perhaps they both got carried away when she realised that he'd pushed her back until he was nearly lying on top of her, his hands getting very familiar with her upper legs. She whined into his mouth, her body getting over-stimulated. It felt like he was touching her everywhere, like their soulmarks were too close.

"_Nein_!" he said, sitting up. She was panting, and had some difficulty righting herself.

"That… was intense," she remarked.

"And too fast," he said, eyeing her. She gulped.

"I heard that it's… it can be like that between soulmates," she said. "When they first meet. And we are alone, sitting on a comfortable seat. We've seen the position we must be in to bond…"

"I will make an honest woman of you first," he said. She bit her lower lip, and nodded.

"Thank you," she said. "I waited… of course I waited, why wouldn't I? But things are so rushed in war, I wasn't even sure I'd find you, and… I'm glad I did."

"So am I, little mouse," he said. He stroked her arm, bringing up goosebumps all over her skin. "I am curious, though. Why Fate would give me an Englishwoman as my soulmate."

"She works in mysterious ways, her wonders to perform."

"A line of poetry?"

"I'm not sure. It's something my grandmother used to say."

"Your family?"

"It's… it's only me now."

His eyes narrowed. "What happened to them?"

"We were… we were holidaying in Europe, trying to help the economy. Wrong place, wrong time. The Allies attacked…" She lowered her head. In the future, her family thought her dead, and she may as well be to them. Would she ever see them again? The thought of losing them forever brought tears to her eyes, and she allowed them to fall. As long as Reinhardt bought her story, she was safe. Had to be safe.

"You lost your family to your own people," he said, rubbing her back. She nodded, and then shook her head.

"We were pacifists," she said. "Scientists."

"Scientists?" he said, his spine straightening.

"All I have left is this," she said, indicating the bag. "My coat, my goggles… not much at all."

"What kind of science?" he asked.

"I… I've studied biology." Not a lie. He grinned.

"My area of interest," he said. "A fellow scientist. That is why you were chosen for me."

"You like science?" That confirmed he was HYDRA.

"Very much." He ran his other hand lightly over her stomach. "And I look forward to studying _your_ biology."

Her cheeks must have looked like traffic lights by now. Jemma smiled bashfully and lowered her head again. Once more, he bought it, raising her head.

"Beautiful," he murmured. "Come. I must announce this."

"Oh… very well."

"Is there anyone I can ask for permission to marry you?" She shook her head. "You _will_ marry me?"

"Of course." She was torn between feeling sick and feeling glad that he was at least attractive. That would help. If she was going to play along…

"Come, Jemma." He held out his hand. She stood shakily, and then allowed him to clasp his hand around hers and pull her to the door. Everyone was exactly where they had been before, which was unsettling. And impressive, she reluctantly admitted to herself. "_Sie ist meine Seelenverwandte_!"

There was applause, and Jemma decided that she really must learn German.

"Where are we?" she asked Reinhardt. "I… I don't even know what country I'm in." He gave her a strange look. "I only lost my family a few days ago! I've been in a bit of a daze."

"You are at HYDRA's base in Austria," he replied.

"HYDRA?"

"Later, _mein Liebling_. For now, we must arrange a wedding. As soon as possible, do you think?"

She nodded, and he smiled. Genuinely smiled, the widest of all so far, and her heart skipped an unwilling beat.

* * *

Jemma was unsure of what to do. She was isolated at the castle, only able to go out for dress fittings and so forth, and she had no idea how to contact the SSR. The best she could hope for would to be kidnapped, and that never happened. She was too well-protected.

The day of the wedding dawned, and they married at a small church an hour's drive from the castle. It was almost torturous, sitting next to Reinhardt, 'happily' married and knowing what was to come that night.

He reached out his hand, and she took it, rested them together on the middle seat. They were both wearing gloves, the material of her white gown – and she really was perfectly entitled to wear it – was thick due to the cold weather, and he was in uniform. She wore no veil, instead wearing a warm cap with embroidered flowers. Edelweiss, which made her think of _The Sound of Music_, and glad she didn't really know any of the tunes.

"You are thinking," Reinhardt… no, she had to call him Werner, said to her.

"I'm nervous," she said.

"Why?"

"You know I've never…" She glanced at him, and then down in embarrassment. "What if I'm… no good?"

"Practise makes perfect, as you English say," he said. "We will discover these things together. And discovery requires experimentation."

"You do love that word."

He kissed her hand, skin visible through the lace, without taking his eyes off her. "We are both scientists, Jemma."

"I know that, Werner." And how she _hated_ helping him with any of his 'experiments', for all that she was supposed to do that for HYDRA in the future.

She'd shown him the cube, explained that her father had given it to her for safe-keeping, that he'd found it somewhere in Europe but wouldn't say where, and that it was what sent her to Austria. Judging by the rate of the yellow-green light inside of the cube, it would take at least a year to charge fully. Would she make it that far? Would it return her to the future, or fall into the SSR's hands before that could happen?

"My little mouse, stop worrying. I will take care of you." He kissed the palm of her hand, and shivers ran up her spine. "Always."

"I love you," she said breathlessly. She'd practised saying it often enough. He smiled.

"So soon?" he said.

"I agreed to marry you."

"Because we are soulmates."

She shook her head. "Not just that."

"Jemma." He squeezed her hand. "More talk like that and your virtue will be gone sooner than you think."

"…Perhaps I am willing to take that risk?"

Any confidence she had disappeared the moment they were undressed and he was pressing her into the mattress. She whimpered, and he lifted his head from where he'd been nuzzling her breasts.

"We can wait," he said. The offer nearly choked her emotionally, and she shook her head.

"Waiting won't make me feel any calmer," she said. "Please, Werner. You're all I have now."

"We will create our own family," he said, and he nipped at her neck. It was true; he didn't expect to be forced to wear a condom, and any use of birth control might be construed as suspicious. Her cover story as a pacifist kept her safe in the lab and away from joining HYDRA. Truthfully? The excuse not to help further their 'cause' and their 'experiments' would ease her conscience.

"Yes," she said.

"The Red Skull would approve."

"Excuse me, but I do not factor anyone outside of us into the decision to have a child!" she said crossly. He chuckled into her skin, moving further down her body.

"The chance will be stronger when we bond," he said. "But you must relax, Jemma."

"I'm trying to. But you're doing terribly distracting things to me-ee!"

"Shh." He had one finger inside her, and her mind was spinning again. "So wet. My little jewel. _Mein Liebling_. _Du bist so schön_…"

Jemma almost couldn't take it. When he started laving her breasts again, she tightened around his three (?) fingers, definitely boneless and relaxed when she flopped back onto the sheets and didn't move. He was chuckling, and she noticed him licking his fingers clean.

"Isn't that terribly unhygienic?" she said, trying to catch her breath.

"_Köstlich_," he replied.

"Delicious…? Oh." She blushed, and found she didn't have the energy to tense as he moved to hover over her. She bit her lip, watching him nervously, and her stomach fluttered as he positioned himself and began to sink in. There was a brief, painful pinch which made her breath hitch. But then he was sliding in with a groan and a curse. (She'd come to learn several German swear words, as well as the endearments. An interesting education so far.) She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, wincing at the unfamiliar stretch, until he was settled against her. Their soulmarks were close, and she knew they had to bond. But she was nervous nonetheless, and this must have showed, because he stroked her side until she met his gaze.

"It will feel right," he said. "This is meant to be."

"Werner…"

"Trust me, _mein Perle_. _Mein kleine Maus_." He kissed up one side of her neck. "Feel so good." He pulled out part of the way, and then thrust back in smoothly. Pleasure spasmed through Jemma's bones, and her hips jerked against his. Their soulmarks almost brushed together, but not quite, and she whined softly. He sank in harder the next time, grinding against her, and her nails dug into his back.

"_Wunderbar_," she murmured.

* * *

"Jemma!"

She looked up when she heard her name being shouted. German came as naturally to her as English by now, so much so that she didn't notice which one she was speaking.

"What is it, Werner?" she asked, hurrying to the door of her inner sanctum.

There was blood over her husband's uniform, a far too frequent occurrence for her liking, and he knew better than to get too close in case it triggered her nausea.

"You must get a mask," he said.

"Why?"

"A man. His arm has been amputated. HYDRA needs him, but he is in bad health."

"Where?" she said, grabbing a thick coat.

"Medical unit."

She followed him to the operating theatre, and spread cream under her nose to block any other scents. Reinhardt helped her on with the mask and her gloves, and then stood back while she took in her patient.

Tall. Caucasian. Short, dark brown hair matted with blood. Blood over quite a bit of him. And, horror of horrors, his left arm had been cut off at the shoulder and some kind of metal limb was in its place.

"What happened?" she asked sharply, peeling away the cursory bandages.

"He fell off a cliff," an unfamiliar man said. Jemma eyed him sharply. "He was lucky we were able to salvage the rest of him."

"Ask him whether he's lucky when he wakes up part-robot!" she snapped.

"Jemma," Reinhardt said. "Stay calm. Think about the baby."

She was _always_ thinking about their baby. If he was a boy, she wanted to call him Daniel. When Reinhardt asked why, she'd told him that she felt like Daniel going into the lion's den when she'd been brought before him. But he would most likely receive a Germanic name. She was an Austrian citizen now, and tried to behave like it without losing herself. She couldn't afford that. It was why she kept sneaking whatever information she could to the SSR, leaving them little clues, most of which they acted upon. Like hell was she going to work strictly for HYDRA while she was waiting for her cube to charge.

It was getting there. She was seven months pregnant, and it seemed that her estimation of a year had been quite pessimistic. Either that or, what with it being an 0-8-4, it was simply unpredictable.

"If he gets out of this alive," she began.

"He will," the stranger said. "We had him once, and injected him with a formula similar to that given to Captain America."

She bit her tongue before she could say 'super soldier serum', in case it was supposed to be top secret.

"So he should heal well?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Well, not emotionally. Amputees have it much harder than people born disabled."

"There is only so much we can do," Reinhardt said, touching her shoulder.

"Nonsense," she said, already stitching up some of the worse injuries. "I have far too much time on my hands. We will keep him in an observation room, and I shall help him myself. Physical therapy, adjusting mentally. If you want him to work for HYDRA, you want him to be in possession of his mind, don't you?"

"We want him capable of all he was before," the stranger replied.

"Jemma, this is Arnim Zola," Reinhardt said.

"Mr. Zola," Jemma said. She'd heard that name before, she was _sure_ of it.

"Doctor," he said. "I have heard about you, Mrs. Reinhardt."

"Dr. Reinhardt," she said. "I am operating on this man, after all."

"His mind needs to be in working order, but he will be ours," Zola said. "He does not need memories."

"What's his name?"

"Bucky Barnes."

She froze momentarily, and then continued to disinfect around the robotic arm. "What kind of name is Bucky?"

"He's an American."

"Ah." She nodded. "An American. That explains it, then."

BUCKY BARNES. HYDRA HAD BUCKY BARNES, CAPTAIN AMERICA'S BEST FRIEND.

Would they still have him in her time? She hoped not. Did they brainwash him, or did he never regain his memory? Poor Bucky.

"Stay still," she said when the man on the table twitched. His eyes dragged open and met hers. "My name is Jemma." She made sure to speak in English. "I'm going to help you get better, but I need you to lie still. Can you do that for me?" He nodded slowly. "Good."

"You will make an excellent mother," Reinhardt said, and he kissed the back of her neck.

"Werner, if you want to be helpful, make sure there'll be a chair for me when I'm finished here. It shouldn't take too long, but… a comfortable bed for him in the observation room would aid his recovery."

"Whatever you wish, little mouse."

* * *

All too soon, Bucky was taken away, and Jemma wasn't told his new location. It would likely change several times before HYDRA-Gate. She'd at least had time to help him adjust to having a prosthetic arm, emotionally as well, but now he was gone and she was curled up in her soulmate's lap, wishing she could have done more.

"Such a soft heart," Reinhardt murmured. "In such dangerous times, nothing has crushed your spirit. Soft heart but an iron will."

"I don't mind _some_ things being hard…"

"I believe the other men are jealous that you are one of those wives whose sexual drive increases during pregnancy."

"Hormones!"

"Of course," he said, moving his hand beneath her skirt and running his finger along the line of her knickers. "Nothing to do with this." He brushed over her soulmark, and she shivered.

"Nothing at all," she murmured.

"You are a terrible liar."

"I know."

* * *

The day Jemma gave birth, Reinhardt wisely kept away. He thought he knew about torture? Ha! Let her at him and she'd show him the meaning of pain…

"Here you are, Mrs. Reinhardt," the nurse said, passing the baby into Jemma's arms. "Just the afterbirth to deliver."

"Thank you," Jemma said drowsily.

"Has your husband decided on a name yet?"

She pursed her lips. "_We_ have not decided, no. Please send him in."

"Soon."

The baby – a boy – was nursing by the time Reinhardt slunk into the room.

"A son," Jemma said.

His face lit up, and he hurried to her side.

"Our little bear," he said, stroking the baby's light brown hair.

"We are _not_ calling him Adolf or Johann," she said firmly. "I put my foot down on that."

"Of course," he said, although it was slightly condescending, curse him.

"Daniel."

"No."

"But—"

"Not an English name."

She huffed. "Very well. What about… let's see. Uh, Mozart was Austrian. What about Wolfgang?"

"Little wolf." He rested his hip against the side of the bed and held the baby while Jemma buttoned up her hospital gown. "Or his father, Leopold. My father's name, too."

"Really?"

"Do not sound so surprised," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well… well, you never tell me about your parents."

"They are dead. There is not much to say."

"So are mine." Jemma blinked back tears, although post-natal tears were to be expected.

"Little mouse." He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "We will fill our home with children until we have more than we lost."

"How sweet," she said dryly. "Perhaps you can give birth the next time?"

"Wolfgang Leopold?" he said. Jemma looked down at their son, and nodded.

"That sounds lovely," she said.

* * *

They received the news about Red Skull's defeat at the hospital that night. When Jemma was allowed back to the castle – she could still never think of it as home – with baby Wolfgang in her arms and Reinhardt carrying her bag, she was shocked to hear screams.

"Is someone else giving birth, or is it one of your experiments?" she asked.

"A prisoner. She can touch the obelisk."

"Obelisk?"

"I would not allow you to handle it, Jemma. It sucks the life from people. But she… she survived touching it. I want to know why."

"Werner, is this dangerous?" She held Wolfgang tighter.

"I would not endanger my soulmate or our son," he said. "Come. I will tell you all about this intriguing object."

"Isn't an obelisk a large pointed statue from Egypt?"

"Not this one."

Reinhardt had been busy while she was in hospital, and before that. He'd 'imported' villagers from an Asian country, most of them now dead, and the rest imprisoned. Under the guise of showing Wolfgang around his new home, Jemma wandered until she was able to find the captives, and hoped one of them spoke English. Or German. Or French, Italian, or Latin, although she doubted it.

"Hello," she whispered to the woman isolated from the others. "Are you the one who can touch the strange object?" The woman nodded nervously. "What is your name?"

"J… Jiaying."

"That's a pretty name," Jemma said, and she smiled. "I hope I'll see you again, Jiaying. Stay safe."

She crept away, already planning how to let the SSR know.

* * *

Then the castle base was raided, Jemma hid Wolfgang out of the way, grabbed the keys she knew about, and took advantage of the chaos to sneak to the dungeons and release the prisoners.

"Go, Jiaying," she said. "Take them with you. There are people out there who'll help you."

"You come with us?" Jiaying said, tugging on Jemma's wrist. She shook her head.

"No. I can't. Even if it kills me, I'll stay here. Just make sure you get to safety. Make it clear you're prisoners."

"Your name?"

"Jemma."

Wolfgang in her arms again, Jemma hurried out into the white hall, where she'd met her soulmate. In her first weeks at the castle, she'd come to associate halls with different colours, and would use those to ask for directions. The white hall led to the family quarters, which she left now, cube tucked into her old bag, with her glasses, her lab coat, everything she'd brought with her. She also had Wolfgang's baby supplies in a bag over her other shoulder.

"Frau Reinhardt!" It was Hans, one of the technicians. "You must escape."

"I'm not leaving Werner," she said. Not if the SSR was taking him in.

"Frau Reinhardt, please—"

"I'm not leaving him, and don't you dare try to stop me."

"He is being arrested—"

"Then I will be arrested as well. Now _move out of my way_."

She strode past him, and got outside just as Reinhardt was being shoved into a car. As soon as he noticed her, he froze.

"Frau Reinhardt," a woman said, walking forward. "You have a child."

Jemma blinked. Peggy Carter. Oh my God. Stay calm.

"Come with us, sweetie-pie," a man in a bowler hat said. "You can join your hubby in jail."

"She has a baby," Peggy Carter (!) said.

"I'll go with you," Jemma said, speaking in English. "I'm not leaving my soulmate."

"You'll travel with me, then," Peggy Carter (!) said. "Come along, Frau Reinhardt."

Jemma nodded, and half-smiled at Reinhardt before he was forced into the car, and she was helped into another one. She hated not having a seatbelt, and held Wolfgang tightly in her arms, heart pounding. The female agent Jemma had a mild (ish) fangirl crush on slid into the other side of the car.

"Let's go," she said, and they started off. Jemma sighed, all the tension leaving her shoulders.

"Have you heard of Union Jill?" she asked casually.

Peggy Carter (!) stared at her. "Union… Jill?"

"The British woman who's been dropping hints about where you could find HYDRA agents and artefacts," Jemma said. "Such as the ones you confiscated from this base. How are the prisoners? Did they all escape? Did Jiaying get out?"

"Y-yes, they all did. Are you saying that _you_, Werner Reinhardt's soulmate, wife, mother of his child… _you_ are Union Jill?"

"I didn't choose my soulmate. Fate obviously dislikes HYDRA, and trusted me to help you. I'm… sorry about Steve Rogers. If it's any consolation, I'm sure he'll be found one day."

"Of course he will," Agent Carter – was she an agent yet? – said crisply.

Jemma fidgeted for a moment. Then…

"You're my idol!" she blurted out. Agent Carted looked startled. "I'm sorry, but… but you are! One of the founders of SH… of, uh, the organisation I work for."

"I'm sorry, I'm confused. What do you mean…?"

"This." Jemma pulled out the cube, almost fully charged. "It brought me back in time. I don't belong here… I belong seventy years from now. I must get home. When I do… please put this away. Somewhere. Hide it. I was careful, and I hate what I had to do to maintain my cover. At least falling pregnant restricted the HYDRA activities I was forced to participate in to maintain my cover. It… it makes me feel dirty."

Agent Carter handed the cube back, and Jemma hid it again. "So you are from the future?"

"That's one way of putting it. Yes, I'm from the future. I can't tell you anything about it; I could only send you information I knew to be currently true."

"Tell me everything you can later, when I can make notes."

It was delightfully familiar walking around the Playground, or the SSR base which would later become the Playground. Agent Carter seemed almost amused.

"Where is Werner?" Jemma asked. She winced. "Sorry. It's habit. Where is Reinhardt?"

"He's at the Rat," Agent Carter said, settling opposite Jemma in what would become the entertainment area. "It's an SSR prison facility."

"The Rat?" Jemma began to laugh hysterically. "Oh my God!"

"What is it?"

"H-his nickname for me is… Little Mouse."

Agent Carter's eyes widened, and her lips quirked up at the edges. "How ironic."

"You wanted to know more?" Jemma said.

"Whatever you can tell us."

"Well, I was there less than a year." Agent Carter glanced at Wolfgang.

"Much shorter than a year?" she asked.

"Wolfgang was born on time. It's just that Werner… that Reinhardt insisted on a swift marriage, and we bonded after we married. It's likely that Wolfgang was conceived on our wedding night, or soon after."

"You took a great risk letting us know what you could," Agent Carter said.

"I'm loyal to… the organisation you will co-found with Howard Stark."

"Please tell me I don't marry him."

Jemma laughed. "No, you don't."

"…May I see the cube again?"

She nodded, and placed it on the table. She kept Wolfgang in her lap. "If you decide to keep W… my soulmate alive, could you tell him that I escaped custody with Wolfgang, and will do everything I can to get back to him? I… I know he's an evil man, but he's still my husband and soulmate, my child's father. Please don't let any of them find out about Union Jill."

"We know better than that," Agent Carter said. "Will you work for us as long as you're here?"

"Of course. Oh! I know about one of HYDRA's prisoners. I don't know where he's being kept, but his name is B—"

Light sprang from the cube, swallowing her, and she was flung through time to the future. Her bags were still around her shoulders, and she was still holding Wolfgang. He hadn't aged and was still breathing.

"Simmons!"

She looked up, and blinked in recognition. "Agent May."

"Where have you been?"

"Oh my God, how long have I been missing?"

"Two hours."

"Not… not ten months?"

May looked at the baby. "You have a tale to tell."

"Uh… yes."

"Coulson will want to see you."

* * *

She told him everything she could remember, May a silent presence in the background. Wolfgang fussed a bit, and Coulson cleared his throat and looked away while she breast-fed her son.

"So you're saying that Bucky Barnes was taken into HYDRA custody after he fell from the train," he confirmed.

"And he has a metal prosthetic. It was… _horrible_."

"But you met him," Coulson muttered. "And Peggy Carter, when she was young. You were _there_ when Schmidt died, when _The Valkyrie_ went down…"

"Wolfgang was born that day," Jemma said.

"You named him Wolfgang," May said.

"Better than Adolf. His… his middle name is Leopold."

"Simmons…"

"I can go undercover at HYDRA. Really. If nothing else, I've just had ten months of the best training I could get outside of this room."

"Are you sure?" Coulson said.

"This isn't really the best place to raise a baby…"

"And you think HYDRA will have a day care centre at work?" May said.

"He needs me. I can… I can delay until I've weaned him off my milk, and then leave him here. Or find someone to look after him while I'm at work. Someone of my skill will be too good for them to resist. I'm sure…" She sighed. "Just let me try. Please?"

Reluctantly, they allowed her to leave. Somehow they managed to keep Wolfgang secret from the rest of the team. The move into her temporary lodgings was fairly painless, conducted in the dead of night while Wolfgang was sleeping. Jemma felt a little guilty for all the additional supplies they had to buy, mostly second-hand furniture. But her application to HYDRA had been approved, and they assured her that someone would be able to take care of her son while she was working, although it would involve cutting some of her salary. She was there for information, not money, so it didn't matter. Just as long as someone could watch Wolfgang.

As soon as she looked up when Turgeon pointed out the man he was getting excited about, her heart literally stopped beating for about three seconds, before speeding up as the blood drained from her cheeks.

No. It couldn't possibly be.

_Could it_?

"Good day," Whitehall said in a distinctly American accent. "I've brought you here because I need your he—" He paused when he met Jemma's eyes, before pushing on. "Help."

Trying to remember to breathe, she instead concentrated on flipping through the paperwork and taking in its contents. Whitehall spoke up.

"Dr. Simmons, is it?" he said. Like it was a coincidence, even though he _knew_ it couldn't be. Not if it was _him_.

"Y-yes," she said.

"Bakshi tells me you have a passion for these things yourself. In your opinion, where did Dr. Lingenfelter go wrong?"

"I-I'm not entirely sure that she did." It was worth seeing the look of relief on the woman's face.

"That's one among us," Whitehall said. His eyes burned into hers. "Please, clarify."

"Well, it's just that we're dealing with alien technology." She patted the file. "Alien metal interacts with biology on a cellular level in a way that's impossible to replicate without a sample." She smiled weakly. Whitehall's gaze never left hers.

"But if we were to acquire the Obelisk itself, would it then be possible to weaponise its effects?" So _that's_ what he'd been trying to do. She swallowed.

"I would think so. Yes."

"Excellent." He glanced around the room. "I want everyone prepared when we do."

Taking it as a dismissal, they all began to shuffle their papers together.

"He knows _your_ name," Turgeon grumped.

"Do you have any idea what this means?" she said. "We could kill millions of people, perhaps even billions."

"Pretty awesome, huh?" he said.

A shadow fell over them, and Turgeon's eyes widened. Jemma didn't need to look up to know that her soulmate was standing there.

"Dr. _Simmons_, could I have a word with you in private?" he asked. She nodded, and stood up, thanking him when he pushed in her chair. He led her towards the glass doors, with nary a glance back at Turgeon. Jemma's phone rang, and she answered it as soon as she saw the number.

"I'm sorry, I have to take this," she murmured. Whitehall nodded. "Has something happened to Wolfgang? Is he alright?" She noticed Whitehall stiffen, his eyes narrow, and steadfastly didn't make eye contact with him. "He's crying? Have you…? It's not time for his feed yet, but… alright. I'll be down there as soon as possible."

"I'll go with you," Whitehall said. "We can talk on the way. You wouldn't want Wolfgang to wait too long for his mother, would you?"

She shook her head, and followed him to a private lift. He requested the time alone with her, and was immediately granted it.

As soon as the doors closed, he turned to her.

"Jemma?" he said.

"…Werner?" He nodded, and she felt a wave of… of some emotion she couldn't possible identify. Then she threw her arms around his shoulders. He pulled her close, kissed her, and the instant they touched it became apparent that she wasn't mistaken. He was really Werner Reinhardt, her soulmate and husband, the man she thought had to be dead by now. Yet he wasn't. Only when the lift arrived on their level with a ding did they manage to separate.

"We will talk later," he said, some of his original accent appearing.

"Come and see our son," she said.

"Is the room where you feed him private?"

"Yes."

"Then we will talk there."

Reverting to German was easy. He watched as she breast-fed their infant son.

"How?" he said.

"The cube. It must have fully charged itself, because only a few days ago – for me – it swallowed us whole and… and next thing I knew I was in the middle of nowhere, no identification, a baby to support, seventy years into the future. All I had to rely on was science."

"Where did you appear?"

"America. It seems the cube sent me… to you. Perhaps it's connected to soulmateship? After all, the first time I was… zapped by it, I was sent straight to Austria. And your men brought me to you."

"Discovery requires experimentation," he said. "Do you still have it?"

"No… I don't know where the cube is. I was holding Wolfgang this time, not the cube, so…"

"Never mind," he said, shaking his head. "What is important is the Obelisk."

She cleared her throat. "_Just_ the Obelisk?"

He stood up, and walked over to her. "I thought the _other_ went without saying."

"Say all you like," she said. "However you want to say it. I just… I've missed your voice. I didn't even get the chance to look for you."

"Oh, my little mouse." He knelt beside her and stroked Wolfgang's hair, like he had after the boy had been born. "And little wolf. We'll never be apart again."

Jemma blinked back tears of helplessness. Going undercover was one thing. Finding that her _HYDRA husband_ was here added a whole other level of danger and safety. He was going to think that she was on his side. He would protect her, and Wolfgang, but being Daniel Whitehall's soulmate… well, if it got out, she'd be in greater danger from his enemies, and what if her friends no longer trusted _her_? What if Coulson and May didn't trust her anymore? No. She had to tell them.

But… would Whitehall let her out of his sight?

"What is it, _mein Liebling_?" he asked, touching her cheek. "Jemma?"

"W-what do we do now?" she said. "We can't tell anyone… they can't know about the cube… I don't even know where it is!" Probably stuck in a time loop, which should mean that it was safe. "Time travel worries people."

"I know," he said. "We will work something out, Jemma."

* * *

Coulson stared at her.

"It's one thing to be Reinhardt's soulmate," he said. "But you're _Whitehall's_ as well?"

"He's one and the same," Jemma replied.

"How?"

"I don't know! I'll… I'll ask him, obviously. He said that he wanted to find me, and Wolfgang, no matter how old we were. He must have been furious when we seemingly dropped off the radar."

"So what're you going to do?"

She shrugged. "If you kidnap me at the appropriate moment, it should distract him. But perhaps save that as a last resort?"

"Are you going to move out?"

"I don't know, sir. We only just met again today, and there… there hasn't been time to discuss it."

"Let me know your decision as soon as possible," he said, and he began to turn away. She cleared her throat.

"You know I'm loyal to SHIELD," she said. "Don't ever doubt that. I never thought I'd see him again, but nothing will change. I hated what he was then, and I still do. The fact that he's somehow lived all this time, and plans to kill millions of people, makes me hate him even more."

"I always wondered what kind of soulmates evil people get," Coulson said. "I always thought they got their matches."

"Perhaps it's a case of opposites attract?" she said. "So to speak. But I think… I think it's to give them a chance to turn good. If I'd gotten to him early enough—"

"It's impossible to change the past."

"And I don't think he can be redeemed. Which means that I must use this to our advantage."

"Where does your son play into all this?" he asked.

Jemma looked at Wolfgang. "Poor Wolfie. He didn't ask to be born. He was a product of a time and place where I was expected to carry my soulmate's child."

"I'm sorry you had to go through it, Jemma."

She sank onto a chair. "Soulmates are physically compatible, sir. It wasn't a hardship in… in _that_ respect." He coughed and looked away, cheeks turning pink. "He has that kind of charisma that inspires followers, which explains a great deal. And we could talk science together. But whenever he'd say 'Hail'… you know. Every time he said something that reminded me of what he was, it took so much energy to hide my revulsion from him, and from everyone else. I didn't want my son growing up in that atmosphere. He needs a father who'll lead him along the right path." She shook her head, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I don't see Wer… _Reinhardt_ as that man."

"I can't ask you to go that deeply undercover, but…"

"But I don't have a choice."

"Fate decided this a long time ago."

"I know." She twisted her thumbs together. "If I don't make contact as often as I'd like, it's because I'm being watched, or just too busy…"

"I understand, Simmons."

* * *

"Dr. Whitehall," Cal said, shaking her hand. He was so outwardly cheerful that it was mildly alarming. "I heard you've had a run-in with SHIELD."

"People calling themselves SHIELD," she said. The cover story she had worked out with… with _Whitehall_ involved SHIELD, simply because it gave her additional reason to hate them, at least to those outside of the relationship. "I'm… I'm Daniel's soulmate. We'd bonded, and I was pregnant, when SHIELD found out and kidnapped me. Their defences were down after the birth, and I was able to escape. I knew that if I found HYDRA I would find him. Our mutual interest in science led me in the right direction."

He nodded, and dropped her hand. "Was it… Phil Coulson?"

"I-I've heard the name. Why?"

"Was there a girl there, a girl named… oh, she wouldn't know her real name."

Jemma blinked. Oh hell. It couldn't be Skye's father.

"How old?" she asked.

"Twenty-five. Dark hair, dark eyes. Orphan. Close to… _Coulson_."

"Yes." It couldn't possibly do any more harm. "Her name was Skye. Just Skye."

"Skye. Did you talk to her?"

"N-not really. She brought me things sometimes, but I was supervised, you understand."

"Absolutely. I'm a doctor, too. If you ever want to talk about your time with SHIELD, just let me know."

"Thank you."

He trotted off again, and Jemma drifted back to her husband's side.

"Who is he?" she asked.

"A man with a grudge against SHIELD."

"Yes, I gathered that. Is it personal?"

"Judging by his emotional behaviour, I would think so."

* * *

She was able to establish a phone link to Skye, who filled her in on everything. They'd come up with a baby-related code in case they were overheard, and Jemma told Whitehall that she wanted to be tested rigorously and thoroughly to make sure that time-travelling hadn't affected her ability to have children, in case he wanted to try for a daughter or another son. She insisted on birth control until she was certain, but that didn't stop him from initiating plenty of 'practise'.

He was in such a relaxed state of mind afterwards that he was quite willing to tell her anything interesting that was classified to other people on her level. She tensed when he mentioned that he'd been contacted by a man named Grant Ward.

"What is wrong, Jemma?" he asked.

"Did you mention me?"

"No. Why would I?" She didn't speak. "Tell me, little mouse."

"He…" Oh God, what could she say? If she was introduced to Ward, if he found out who she was, her whole cover was blown!

"Jemma? _Mein Liebling_? What is it?"

"I've met him. I… I think. The name is familiar. Remember when I told you that I was approached by SHIELD agents after they detected the energy surge where I appeared?"

"Mmm-hmm." He was tracing circles on her stomach, but all of his attention was on her.

"W-well, I'm certain there was a Grant Ward with them. I'm not saying that he's a spy for SHIELD… but we don't want them to find out that I'm your soulmate, do we?" He shook his head. "So _please_ don't tell him my name. Don't let _anyone_ tell him. I don't want anyone to take me away from you and Wolfie." She buried her face in his chest, and only relaxed entirely when he stroked her back and murmured reassurances to her.

One bullet dodged. She hoped.

And then she found out about Raina, who'd alerted them to the location of the alien city SHIELD was searching for.

"There will be no danger towards you, Jemma," Whitehall said. "You provided such valuable insight into the Obelisk that it would be unfair not to allow you to witness its powers when we finally discover how to harness them."

"I have a terrible feeling about this," she said.

"Wolfgang is safe with the security team. Agent Morse has looked after him well in the past, and she could protect him without backup, let alone all the other men there."

Jemma glanced around. She and Whitehall spoke in English around others so that he wouldn't lapse back into German in public.

"Please… just forget about the Obelisk," she said. "What if something bad happens?"

"I will protect you. Always."

She sneaked an arm around his back, knowing that he wasn't fond of public displays of affection, but it was part of her act. Pretending to miss his touch.

"_Ich liebe dich_, Werner," she whispered, so that only he could hear.

"_Ich liebe dich_, Jemma," he whispered back.

She was becoming quite good at this lying business. The understatement brought a smile to her lips, which her husband returned.

"Let's get this business over with," she said, and they walked into the building above the temple side-by-side. Then she heard familiar voices – Ward and Raina – and her blood ran deathly cold. She froze in place, and of course Whitehall noticed.

"Jemma?" he said.

"I can't face him," she said. "I'll wait out here."

"Jemma—"

"And I wish you wouldn't deal with people like him."

"Jemma—"

"I won't be far away. If anything happens, I promise, I'll go straight to your side. But until then…"

His shoulders slumped minutely in a clear sign of resignation.

"Very well," he said. He bent over and pecked her on the lips, a rare concession to their relationship in front of other people. They sensibly didn't comment. "It will not be long."

"Stay safe."

"I will, little mouse."

She heard some of the conversation, including Skye's voice, and that the plane had apparently been shot down. It made her feel sick to her stomach, and it took everything in her not to cry at the thought that her friends were all dead, when she should have been able to protect them. _Somehow_! But then Cal – really Skye's father, as Jemma suspected – raced out of the room, grabbed Jemma, and pulled her back with a gun to her head.

"How would you like me to take what _you_ took from me?" he hissed. Jemma realised what this was about, and met Whitehall's eyes. She'd never seen terror on his face, but she could see it now. "And after I kill your soulmate, how about I go after _your_ baby?"

"Soulmate?" Damn it, Ward was still there. And Raina. And Skye, who looked as terrified as Whitehall; she just hid it better. Jemma swallowed.

"Cal," she said quietly. "Would your soulmate want you to do this?"

"It's out of her hands now!"

"What was her name?"

"Jemma, stop talking to him," Whitehall said. She narrowed her eyes at him, and ignored his order.

"Cal, tell me about her," she said. "Was she beautiful?"

"You're not talking me down from this," he said. "Sorry, Mrs. Whitehall, I like you, but your _soulmate_ stole my family from me!"

"Skye's here," she said, gesturing. "I heard you all talking while I was out there. You've searched for so long. Don't do this. Not now. Tell me about your soulmate. I'm sure she wouldn't want this."

"He tore her _apart_ to make himself younger!"

Jemma met Whitehall's eyes again. "Is it true, Daniel?"

"He killed Jiaying, and it's only right that I do the same to him!"

That name.

"…She never aged, did she?" She was fairly sure Cal shook his head. "I met her. In nineteen forty-five. She was beautiful."

"You met her? That's… that's impossible."

"It isn't. And I'm sure she wouldn't want this, so just let me go."

"No!" But he was a smart man, and his eyes darted between Jemma and Skye. She saw the truth dawning, and knew she was about a minute away from dying. "But… if that story you told me about SHIELD kidnapping you… if that wasn't true… how did you know about my daughter? How did you know the _name_ she uses?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Raina said. "Jemma Simmons is with SHIELD. She works for Coulson."

Jemma looked at Skye, saw that her friend knew their time was drawing to an end. Then she looked at her husband, her soulmate. She couldn't read his expressions fast enough.

"Werner," she said, shaking her head. "You know me. I'm your wife, the mother of your child. I'm your _soulmate_. We're _bonded_."

"Either you've been working for HYDRA all this time, or you're really SHIELD," Raina drawled. Cal let go of Jemma, chuckling.

"Oh, this is beautiful," he said. "This is a better revenge than I could've imagined. The perfect prelude."

"Werner," Jemma said. She stepped towards him. "I've been there for you. I've _helped_ you, for goodness sakes! Are you really going to believe her over me?"

"How would you know about Agent Skye?" Whitehall asked.

Jemma laughed. "Research? How else could I know? You _know_ the cube brought me through time to you. You know my history. I… I shouldn't even have to be defending myself against these accusations, not to you. I'm your soulmate, and that counts for something. It _should_ count for something."

"You are right, _mein kleine Maus_," he said, drawing a gun and pointing it at her. "It _should_ count for something. But what?"

"Werner, _please_!"

There was a shot. Jemma squeezed her eyes tight for a second, sure he'd pulled the trigger. But when she didn't keel over she opened them again, and saw the red blooming on Whitehall's shirt, the shock on his face. She ran forward to support him as he collapsed, futilely covering the wound with her hand. It was an instinctive reaction, the bond forcing her to cradle his body. She couldn't cry for him, but she could leave him with a pleasant memory, for something which might have been had she intervened before he started on his path of destruction. If only…

"_Ich liebe dich_," she whispered into his ear. "You should have trusted me, Werner."

She felt the itch where her soulmark was as it disappeared upon his death. There was running and shouting around her, fighting and gunfire, but she stayed down. She wasn't a field agent, and hopefully her days as an undercover agent were over. When the room was fairly well cleared, she wiped her hands on his jacket, and remembered her son.

"Oh God, Wolfie," she said. Then she bolted outside, running into Agent Morse, who handed him over. "Sweetheart, I'm here now. Mummy's here. Shh. Don't cry."

"Agent Simmons, I have to get you to safety," Agent Morse said.

"Oh…"

"Here's someone to help you. I have to head in and help the others. But go with Agent May. She'll take you to cover."

Jemma blinked as Agent Morse ran off, and May rounded a car and began to drag Jemma along.

"Good work, Simmons," she said. "But we're blowing this place up soon. Consider your mission over."

"Was… was Agent Morse on our side all this time?"

"Yes."

"…Thank goodness she was the one looking after the baby."

Later on, Jemma went to shower when she noticed words on her left hip: 'I remember you, doll. You helped me once.'

"A new soulmate," she murmured, stroking it. "I hope this one turns out better than the last."

* * *

**This piece of insanity (i.e. Jemma/Whitehall pairing) was suggested by DarkBirdy. I was going to shrug it off, but then inspiration struck: TIME TRAVEL! Oh, the possibilities! Which led to the story you see above.**

**Translations, corrections thanks to readers:**

**Lupae filius (Latin) – Son of a bitch**

**Wer sind Sie, Fraulein? – Who are you, miss?**

**Auf die Knie – On your knees**

**Hände hinter den Kopf – Hands behind your head**

**Bringt sie zu Reinhardt – Take her to Reinhardt**

**Wer ist das? – Who is this?**

**Spricht sie Deutsch? – Does she speak German?**

**Nein – No**

**Wartet hier – Wait here**

**Jawohl – Yes, sir**

**Sie ist meine Seelenverwandte – She is my soulmate**

**Mein Liebling – My Darling**

**Du bist so schön – You are so beautiful**

**Mein Perle – my pearl**

**Meine kleine Maus – My little mouse**

**Wunderbar – Wonderful**

**Ich liebe dich – I love you**

**So… if anyone knows German and can correct my translations? PLEASE-PLEASE-PLEASE get in touch with me so I can make the corrections as soon as possible.**

**Please review! And don't shoot the messenger. I just write the wildly inappropriate pairings and hope it sparks more stories from other people. ;) The implication at the end there, by the way, is that Bucky is Jemma's new soulmate.**


	86. Speaking in Tongues (Clint x Skye)

**Note: Some body horror. Or should I say canon/fanon-typical violence? In this `verse, soulmarks have to be spoken out loud. My theory is that anyone born a mute will be able to speak their words to their soulmate, even if that's the only time they ever speak in this life. Of course, Clint wasn't born mute…**

**Also, many thanks to the following readers, who helpfully provided corrections to the German in the previous chapter: coffeee, tinyballoflight, Mystera II, and melodyneko. If you check, you'll see I've edited the text accordingly. Yay!**

"Speaking in Tongues"

Phil stared through the window into the hospital room.

"He won't say anything, at all," Simmons said, her eyebrows drawn together. "He just sits there in stony silence. There's no head injury."

"He has no reason to be pissed at you," Phil said. "Did you check his ears?"

"When I asked him whether he could hear, he nodded, but he won't even open his mouth. And I was standing behind him when I asked, so he didn't just read my lips."

"Strange for Barton," he said. "Let me try to talk to him."

"Skye's searching the security footage to find out what they may've done to him," Fitz said from Phil's other side. "She'll let us know what she turns up. That may make it easier to deal with him, once we know what happened."

"He let me check him over, but if there are internal injuries he's not telling me about any pain, which means I can't treat him," Simmons said.

Skye walked up to them, her face ashen, and nearly ran into Fitz.

"Skye, what's wrong?" Phil said. "What… what'd they do to Hawkeye?"

"Um…" She looked down at the tablet in her hands, almost like she'd forgotten it was there, and handed it over. "Let me talk to him. I can't relate to what's going on with him, but I can talk… I can use s-sign language."

"Why would you need to know sign language?"

"One of the families I stayed with had a daughter who was deaf. I learnt just in case they wanted to keep me, but…" She shrugged. "Just let me talk to him, DC."

He gestured to the door, and watched her go. When she got into the room – soundproofed, unfortunately – she said something to Barton. Whatever it was, only a few seconds later he looked absolutely crushed. Skye walked up to him and tilted his chin up. When he was looking at her, she began to sign. Slowly, he signed back, and Phil knew he'd have to brush up on his sign language skills. It'd been too long since he had to use it, preferring pre-arranged non-standard hand signals to something any trained person could read.

Eventually, Skye sat next to Barton. He stiffened when she put her arm around his shoulders, but then leaned into her side. Simmons gasped, and Phil realised they were watching the video. He looked over their shoulder, got them to rewind, and watched as Barton's captors did something to his mouth.

"Zoom in," he said. Fitz handled it, and Simmons looked ready to cry when they realised that Barton's tongue had been mutilated in an obviously excruciating way. So much so that he almost passed out, and was only kept away by the bucket of water thrown over his head.

"Holy shit," Fitz murmured.

"I… I have no idea how to handle that," Simmons whispered.

"We have to call in specialist help, I think," Phil said. It was difficult to force any words out, and it reminded him of what a gift speech was. Damn, he remembered the days that Barton would chatter away on the comms if he was bored. The highlight of many a dull early mission, before Romanov joined SHIELD and they became Strike Team Delta.

"What kind of specialist can help fix _that_ level of damage?" Fitz asked.

"I don't know. But whoever can, I _know_ we'll find them. We have to, for Hawkeye's sake. He can't go out into the field as an Avenger if he can't talk over the comms. Not unless he had something to speak for him."

"You mean like Stephen Hawking?"

"Let's see what medical science can do for him first, shall we?" Simmons said, trying (and failing) to sound positive. "I'm sure we'll find the answer."

* * *

Clint looked up as a young woman walked into the medical room. Did they really think that throwing different people at him would make him crack? He just wanted to get back to his team, not be stuck with New SHIELD. No matter how pretty this youngster was, there was nothing she could say that would make him—

"I know what they did to you," she said, "and please believe that we just want to help you, Clint, however we can."

No one had ever said those exact words to him. For a moment, he was elated. Sure, she looked young, but she was his soulmate! He had to think of something to say, so she'd know it was him…

And then it came crashing down on him. He couldn't say it to her. He lowered his head, heart crushed beyond belief. Those sick bastards had ruined his chances. She could be his soulmate, yeah, but there was no way to tell her. He _couldn't_ tell her. Did she even have a soulmark? In his writing?

"Hey." She lifted his chin up, and he watched as she chewed her bottom lip. Then she raised her hands and began to sign. '_You need to let our doctor examine you. She might be able to help._'

'_I won't be able to speak to my soulmate_,' he replied.

'_You haven't met them yet_?'

He debated over telling her the truth. But if he couldn't say the words to her, he wasn't going to say anything about it at all. There was no point.

'_What do you think_?' he signed.

'_I think it's a real pity, but it's okay. I haven't found my soulmate yet, either_.'

'_Still waiting for the words_?'

'_That's it_.'

He made a face. '_Will you stay here while I'm examined? I don't know how much your boss remembers about signing_.'

She smiled at him, and it hurt all over again. '_You bet_.'

* * *

"I'm sure Dr. McCoy would be able to help," Jemma murmured. "Muscular and cellular regeneration is very much prevalent in the Star Trek universe. Mr. Stark doesn't have anything like that?" He shook his head. "At least they didn't cut it out; I'd have nothing to work with, then."

"So you're saying you can't do anything yet?" Skye said.

"'Yet' being the operative word here. Fitz and I will do some research and see if we can knock something up together. Alright, Agent Barton?"

He signed, and Skye translated. "Just Mr. Barton. He's not an agent anymore."

"Thank you, Skye. And you, Mr. Barton. It's much easier to address you when I know how."

He signed again. Again, Skye translated. "Call me Clint."

"Very well," Jemma said. "Now, Clint, I'm going to take some cell samples. A swab ought to do it. Then we'll take an x-ray, see how deep the damage goes. In the meantime, if oral feeding is out, we can try intravenous, but I really would prefer you to have proper sustenance, even if we have to put it through a blender to make it… drinkable."

He looked vaguely bemused, and signed something longer.

"If he has enough painkillers to tranquilise a horse, he can handle drinking food," Skye said.

"Please tell me he was exaggerating. If it's enough to tranquilise a horse, he won't be awake enough to ingest anything."

Clint chuckled, and signed again. At least he seemed more cheerful now.

"He was using hyperbole," Skye said. "It sounds classier than exaggerating."

"Sense of humour intact," Jemma said. "Happy patients heal faster. It's a scientifically proven fact, I'll have you know."

"Sure," Skye said. That wasn't a translation, and Jemma gave her an affronted look.

"It was the subject of my first thesis," she said.

"…Oh."

"Don't worry, Mr. Barton! I'm sure it will be no time at all before you're able to speak again. Then you can go forth and find your soulmate."

He smiled ruefully, and signed again.

"Thanks, doc," Skye translated. "You're being very patient."

"The point is that _you're_ the patient," Jemma said. He sniggered, and Skye rolled her eyes with a groan. "I'm sorry. That was terrible. And please call me Jemma."

He signed once more.

"I will when I can talk again," Skye said.

"It would definitely help if I can learn sign language myself," Jemma said.

Clint made a few hand movements, and glanced at Skye, who smiled back at him. Well, _hello_ there. Jemma contained her smirk.

"What was that?" she asked.

"He just signed your name," Skye said.

"Oh! Yes. I'll get on with learning as soon as I can."

"Concentrate on fixing his tongue," Skye said. "When you take a break, I'll teach you the alphabet and the basics."

"Teach me phrases like 'Ouch, that hurts'," Jemma said. "That might be more helpful than 'Hello'."

* * *

They looked over the scans they'd taken of the tongue.

"I can stitch up most of the lacerations," Jemma said. Leo glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"According to the articles I found, tongues are supposed to heal fairly quickly," he said. "It's not as though half of it was hacked off."

"With this number of deep cuts, some of them going right through, I don't know how soon it will fix itself, whether he'll ever talk the same way again. If only I'd gone into medicine proper, rather than bioscience."

"But then we never would've met," Leo said, elbowing her. She still looked regretful, and he sighed internally. "Look on the bright side. The tongue is resilient."

"I saw the way he looked at Skye," she whispered. "Remember how shattered he looked after she spoke to him?"

"You think they're soulmates?"

"And she has no idea."

"God, Jemma."

"I know. We have to fix this."

"Let's prep him for surgery, then. Anaesthetic, I think."

"Quite right," she said, nodding. "We don't want him to be reminded of when… when the injuries occurred."

"Should we have Skye there, at least at the start?" he asked.

"Yes, I think so. I'm nowhere near advanced enough. The alphabet and 'Ouch, that hurts' – last time I'm flippant with them, I swear – are all I can remember."

"I'm shocked, Simmons," he said, pasting on a look of horror. "You're a genius, and you can't remember more than 'Ouch, that hurts'?"

She smacked him on the upper arm. "Come along. Let's go and tell Hawkeye the good news."

* * *

Skye was there when Clint went under anaesthetic, and when he came out of surgery and was transferred to a recovery room. It had an adjoining toilet and shower, and Simmons brought stuff for her so she didn't have to leave. Just in case Clint woke up while no one was there. She kept the bathroom door open, though she kept the shower curtain partially drawn. No sense in him waking up and choking on his healing tongue because he witnessed full-frontal nudity from her.

It was while she was curled up in the chair beside him, reading, that he moaned as he woke up. She placed her hand beneath his, so that he wasn't trapped, and waited for him to register her presence. When his eyes blearily met hers, she smiled.

"Hey," she said softly. "You're awake. God, I'm sorry. That was dumb. I mean, hey. How are you feeling? You can write if you're not up for signing. Or you can just wait until you have the energy? Sorry, sorry! I should let you speak. Or, you know, get some word in edgewise."

He smiled tiredly, and managed to sign, '_Good to hear your voice. I'm not dead yet?_'

"Nope," she said. "Still alive. Fitz has been working on something which should encourage your tongue to heal faster. I'm gonna get you a buzzer so that I don't have to leave the door open while I shower."

'_I don't mind watching_,' he signed. Then his eyes drifted shut and he dropped off to sleep, leaving Skye gaping in shock. She was pretty sure her cheeks were on fire, they felt hot enough.

"So that just happened," she said aloud to herself.

"What happened?"

"Jemma! Don't scare me like that."

"I'm sorry, Skye. Did Clint wake up?"

"Just for a few seconds," she said. "Not long enough for a decent conversation." But apparently for an indecent one. She squirmed in place while Jemma checked Clint's vitals.

"What has you blushing like that?" Jemma said. "Must be something juicy."

"What? No, no! Nothing. I'm not blushing."

"Ah. The temperature must simply be a little warm in here," she said.

"Yep. That's it. High temperature."

"Mmm. I'd turn it down, but that might not be good for the patient."

"I'll be okay," Skye mumbled.

"If you're sure. I'll check on him again later, unless he wakes up first. Do notify me if the latter occurs."

Skye nodded as Jemma bustled back out, and tried to concentrate on her book. But her mind kept going over Clint's flirtatious comment. It was probably just the anaesthetic wearing off or something. What did she know about medicine? No one told her whether she said anything weird after she'd been shot. The only weirdness she was concentrating on at the time was, well, the alien blood she'd been injected with.

He woke a few more times over the next couple of days, drinking smoothies but not trying to talk. Not yet. He signed that he wanted to take it slowly, give his tongue the maximum opportunity to heal, which Jemma praised him for. Fitz's gadget – whatever it was, probably inspired by science-fiction – seemed to work. He shone a sort of blue light over Clint's tongue a few times, something which was supposed to encourage the cells to regenerate or repair themselves faster. At least Skye thought that's what he was saying.

She was finally encouraged to move back to her bunk, not that she liked it there. Too lonely after the past three nights at Clint's side. She'd miss him when he was gone. He'd apparently forgotten all about his inappropriate (albeit flattering) remark, and she'd discovered just how witty he was, especially on pain medication when it came to meal time. She was careful not to say anything that would make him choke on his food-drink, but he didn't seem bothered about signing to her while he drank.

When she returned to his hospital room one morning, she was dismayed to find him no longer there.

"What…?"

"Clint's in a normal bunk now," Coulson said from the doorway, scaring the bejeezus out of her. "Simmons removed the stitches last night, and after a final round of scanning, he was allowed to move out of here."

"So… he's still on base?" Skye said shyly. He raised an eyebrow. "Just… interested. I wouldn't want him to leave without saying goodbye."

"He wouldn't do that, Skye. He's actually only two doors down from you, next to Simmons in case he needed help during the night. You should go visit him. I think his tongue's nearly there. He might be able to talk to you."

"But then he'll be going back to Stark Tower, right?"

Coulson shrugged. "Unless he can find a reason to choose us over the tower." He looked at her significantly.

Skye cleared her throat. "I'm just gonna go find him, then. See ya, boss-man."

Clint's door was open, and he smiled up at Skye when she walked into the room.

'_How are you feeling_?' she signed.

'_I think I'm getting there_,' he replied. '_I'll stick to smoothies until I'm sure it's okay. Jemma said I could have mashed potato if I want_.'

'_She makes really good mashed potato_,' Skye answered. '_From real potatoes_.'

Clint laughed, an open-mouthed laugh, a change from the closed-mouth laughs he'd stuck to since she met him.

"That's nice," she said. He tilted his head. "Hearing you laugh like that. Just realised I haven't heard your voice at all. So… yeah. I'll miss you when you go."

He studied her, his hands still, and she figured that was her dismissal. She turned to go, and was nearly at the door when…

He spoke.

"Thanks for being there for me," he said. "You have no idea how much it means."

Skye gripped the door pane, reeling, and stared back over her shoulder at Clint. He lowered his eyes.

"You knew since the start," she said. "When I spoke to you… _that's_ why you looked so miserable."

"My voice sounds different," he said, and he made a face.

"Well, I've never heard you speak before," she said, "so I don't have anything to compare it to. But you should've told me."

"That would've been cheating," he said. "Besides, why spoil the surprise? And…" His eyes turned sad. "I wasn't sure whether you'd be interested or not. In _me_. Who I am."

"Why… why wouldn't I be? Clint, I've had a crush on you since the first time you signed Jemma's name, all without knowing that you and I were soulmates. Are soulmates. But are you sure you want _me_? I had a pretty messed up childhood."

"So did I. We should compare horror stories, see who had it worse. Pretty sure I'll have you topped, though."

She perched on the bed beside him, clutching the frame and staring at the floor. "So what do we do now?"

"I stay or you come with me. It's a no-brainer, Skye."

"I don't wanna separate you from the Avengers."

"And I don't wanna separate you from your SHIELD family. I don't feel as right there as I do here. I mean, if you want the life of luxury in Stark Tower—"

"No, God no. I wouldn't know what to do with it."

"Neither do I," he said quietly, bumping his shoulder against hers. "So you'll consider it? You don't hate the idea of me being on your turf here?"

"SHIELD was your turf before it was mine," she said.

"SHIELD was my turf before you were born."

"Not true, and you know it," she said. "I've seen your file, I know how old you are."

"Seeing whether I was in my dotage yet?" he asked, grinning cheekily.

"_No_," she said, rolling her eyes. "I was just interested, that's all. I got to know the type of guy you are through our conversations, but I did research, because that's what I do. It's my forte, you could say."

He leaned in and kissed her on the lips without warning. Obviously he wasn't ready to deepen the kiss, and she had no intention of pushing him. Chaste was nice.

"I look forward to finding out your other fortes," he murmured against her lips. Skye shivered.

"You're the best marksman in the world," she said. "I look forward to finding out just how good your aim is."

* * *

**I couldn't resist the usual Clint's-aim-must-be-useful-in-the-bedroom cliché, and neither could Skye.**

**Okay, the pairing was requested by MaddisenK, and AwkwardMoment and I had discussed what might happen if a character was mute. And then I took that to an awful level with Clint being rendered temporarily mute by the bad guys. Admittedly, before I went online and searched how to heal tongue lacerations, I thought it would be **_**much**_** more difficult to heal an injured tongue. Le sigh.**

**Please review! And I'm NOT expanding the previous chapter further than a bonding scene. Same answer as with all the other requested expansions. Although another reader has hinted that they might write some kind of continuation, in which case I'll let you know what happens with that.**


	87. In a Shack (Bruce x Fitz)

"In a Shack"

Oh God, this was the last field assignment Leo Fitz did. Ever. Running through some Scandinavian forest from who-knows-what, well aware that experiments had resulted in certain mythical creatures apparently coming to life. Any snapped twig nearby could mean a chimera about to charge, rustling trees could mean a dragon about to swoop down…

That roaring sound could mean anything bad. Where the hell was a unicorn when he needed one? Leo was perfectly entitled to attract a unicorn, damn it!

He stopped where he was, looked around, and waited for his comm. unit to crackle to life. Still nothing, no matter how much he tapped it. And it was getting darker, and the trees weren't helping, and he _never_ should've read the Harry Potter books, because now he was fully expecting a Blast-Ended Skrewt to come running through the woods.

Oh God. Sif once mentioned a bilgesnipe. They sounded absolutely horrible. What if one of _those_ had been summoned down to Earth? They sounded more terrifying than any old Blast-Ended Skrewt.

"Shit," he said. He couldn't even remember the direction he'd come from.

This time the roar was much closer. To hell with waiting. He began to run like mad, away from the loud, rumbling sound. There were shrieks, and he tripped over a tree root like he was in some fucking horror film. Really? A tree root? Was he a blonde woman with perky breasts and some ridiculous nickname that was supposed to elicit sympathy from the viewers, and instead made him grit his teeth and think calmly about shaggy-haired dreamboats like Bruce Banner…

Leo managed to force himself to run further, ignoring the branches scratching at his arms and wishing he'd stayed in his lab and not allowed himself to be dragged into this weird Hollywood representation of a secret agent's life. Could it get any more clichéd?

Well, he supposed it could if his soulmate saved him from certain death at the very last moment, but what were the odds of that happening?

"Not good, not good, not good," he chanted. His chest felt like it wanted to burst open, like his lungs were on fire and his legs were… no, no, _no_! If he thought about it, it'd just hurt more, and he couldn't afford to be distracted like that. Couldn't be brought down, not while there was still so much to do, when his team _needed_ him. When they finally needed him again, _someone_ needed…

The ground trembled, and he stumbled into a tree. This time he definitely saw at least one unnatural creature approaching. They might not have seen him yet, and… that was the sound of water. Leo ran as lightly as he could until he found a creek. Perfect! It'd mask his scent. Yeah, there'd be some splashing, but how could the animals possibly hear that over the racket they were making?

"Christ!" he hissed. The water was bloody cold. He winced as he submerged himself, and then hid on the bank.

…Okay, maybe the water wasn't all that good an idea. He'd catch his death at this rate, and it'd be his own bloody fault, not something elegant like being… being torn apart by mythological creatures 'revived' by science. Slightly less embarrassing than dying of the sniffles, especially for a SHIELD agent. Or, y'know, whatever he was.

More roars, more shrieks, and the ground rumbled again. Leo shivered, curling up in place near the water. If his comm. unit wasn't working before, it probably wouldn't work now. It was supposed to be waterproof, but the way his luck was going…

A wave crashed over him, and a giant, green face appeared in his vision. Seconds later, the Hulk (what was he doing here?) picked Leo up and began to run with him. The wind shooting past them chilled him to the bone, and everything seemed to be going dark around him. He was treading the line between consciousness and unconsciousness when the Hulk finally came to a skidding stop. Leo didn't even have the energy to grab hold of a finger, and tumbled to the ground as Bruce Banner shrank back to normal. The doctor immediately cradled him, beginning to feel around the back of Leo's head.

"Thanks for saving me," Leo mumbled. "You're even more gorgeous in person, you know that?"

One particular probe uncovered a bump on the head he didn't know he had. He thought Dr. Banner might have said something, but sleep seemed like such a good idea…

* * *

The words ran around and around in Bruce's mind as he carried the water-logged boy to the shack Bruce knew was there. It was one of those places he'd located in case he needed to hide post-battle. Tony would leave him alone for three days, or until Bruce called him, whichever came first. He managed to lie the boy down, and searched for blankets for both of them. The Other Guy prevented Bruce from falling sick, but he couldn't say the same for the stranger who'd said his soulmark. A fire was easily lit in the fireplace, and then he dragged the wet clothes off the young man, uncovering SHIELD tech. He set it aside, and used a blanket to dry him off, and then another to wrap him up. Maybe he wouldn't leave it three days to call for Tony to pick him up. Not if another person's health was at stake.

Bruce had seen the writing on the skin just above the navel. It was his, the words he'd said as the stranger lost consciousness. Hopefully he wouldn't remember what Bruce had said, because despite the fact that the 'boy' was possibly a SHIELD agent, he didn't need to be saddled with Bruce's… problems. Especially the big green one, even though the Hulk rescued him. Why would he do that? Clearly long exposure to the Avengers was… _helping_ in some way.

But that didn't matter. Right now, what mattered most was keeping the young man safe.

…And finding out his name. Pity they couldn't kit the Hulk out with comms, and it looked like something had short-circuited the wires in the SHIELD tech. He felt around and grabbed the communicator sewn into the pocket of Bruce's purple pants. He activated it and set it aside, knowing it'd take a couple of hours to warm up. Tony kept saying that he needed to fix that, but Bruce liked knowing that he had enough time to reconsider summoning help, and kept the communicator away from Tony's grabby engineer hands.

He sifted through the rest of the things he'd pulled out of the strange… his soulmate's pockets. A new SHIELD-issue card with the name Leo Fitz. He perched on the bed and gently shook Leo's (?) shoulder.

"Hey, wake up," he said. "Not good for you to sleep if you have concussion. Come on."

He grumbled softly, then said, "Go `way."

"Not happening. I need to check your eyes. Open up."

"_Why_?"

"Because I'm a doctor, and I said so." Blue eyes cracked open and squinted at him. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Fitz."

"Got a first name?"

"Leo. Most people call me Fitz."

"I'm Bruce. I'll let you rest, but you have to let me examine you while you're awake."

"…Bruce?"

"That's right. Now tell me if anything hurts."

He poked and prodded as carefully as he could, forcing his eyes not to land on the soulmark. If he thought too much about it, he'd want to do or say something, and he _couldn't_.

"The Hulk… he was… he saved me."

"I know, Fitz."

About half a minute later, he was pulled down by the shoulder and came nose-to-nose with his patient.

"You're Bruce _Banner_," Fitz whispered.

"Yes. You've heard of me."

"Such a crush on you, you wouldn't believe." Fitz smiled dopily as he flopped back down onto the covers. Bruce didn't really know what to say to that. It _would've_ been the ideal opportunity to say 'Guess what, we're soulmates', or something along those lines, but he didn't. Something stirred inside him, something angry, but he pushed it back down. Now wasn't the time to let the Other Guy out, not when it hadn't been even half an hour since he'd changed back.

"Do you work for SHIELD?" Bruce asked, taking advantage of the kid's weariness. A necessary evil.

"Yeah, or something like it," he said. "S'posed to be SHIELD, but stuff happened. Have to… get back to…" Bruce stroked his hair absently, and Fitz smiled. "To Coulson. That's nice. Nice dream."

"You're awake," Bruce said. "Come on, Fitz. Stay with me. I'll let you sleep when you're no longer in danger of hypothermia."

"Hold me? If it's a dream…"

Bruce sighed, and climbed onto the bed behind Fitz. He pulled his soulmate close, knowing that it would be the reverse position when— _if_ they bonded, which they wouldn't, of course they wouldn't. Even though his soulmark itched on his back, he knew it wasn't going to happen. He had to keep telling himself that.

The minutes, then hours dragged on. Bruce did everything he could to keep Fitz warm without removing the barriers between them, keeping him awake with murmured questions about his work, and blushing each time Fitz said something complimentary about Bruce's own work. Or, much more embarrassing, something about his physique, and what Fitz would gladly do if he was awake and Bruce was amenable and if Fitz wasn't waiting for his soulmate before going all the way.

"Shh." Bruce heard the engines of the Quinjet long before it landed, giving him time to slip some of the drier clothes back onto Fitz, to preserve his modesty until they could get something better. He switched off the communicator, tucked it into his pocket, and put out the fire. By the time someone was knocking at the door, he had picked Fitz up and was doing one last check.

"You in there, Brucey-Bear?"

"Door's unlocked, Tony," Bruce said, rolling his eyes. The door swung open, and Tony strolled in. He raised his eyebrows.

"Rescuing damsels-in-distress now?" he said. "What would a male damsel be?"

"He was in the water. He needs to get into dry clothes as soon as possible."

"Come on. I'm sure there'll be something on board."

Bruce followed Tony to the jet, and was grateful for the camp bed they set up. He placed Fitz on it gently, and touched his hair again.

"You're safe now," he said. "Get some rest."

"Mmm-hmm," Fitz hummed, and he snuggled under the extra blankets.

"He works for SHIELD," Bruce said when everyone just stared at him. "He mentioned the name Coulson. It… it wouldn't be _him_, would it?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Clint grumbled from the cockpit. "Death doesn't stick the way it used to."

* * *

Leo was talking to Jemma for two solid minutes about what had happened when his brain stuttered to a halt.

"Oh my God," he said, blushing red as a tomato. "Bruce Banner saved me."

"The _Hulk_ saved you," Jemma corrected.

"No, no, _after_ that! And all I could do was flirt with him." He covered his eyes. "My first and only conversation with him, and I had to go and tell him…" When he recalled some of the phrases he used, he was fairly sure he would die of embarrassment.

"What? What did you say to him?"

"Uh, p-probably the tamest thing was when I rhapsodised about his chest hair."

"Fitz!"

"I know, I know!" He rubbed his eyes. "Bloody hell, I must have sounded like the world's worst pervert."

"Oh, Fitz." She squeezed his hand. "No. The world's best pervert, perhaps. I mean, how many people would go to the trouble of rhapsodising about another person's chest hair?"

"Have you ever seen him half-naked?" Leo said, finally lowered his hands and gazing dreamily into space.

"No, Fitz, I haven't."

"Well, I have, and all I can say is that he's even more beautiful in the flesh than in pictures. Mmm."

"Perhaps… this is something you can think about later? When I'm not in the same room as you?"

"Eh, not like anything'd come from it," Leo said, waving his hand. "I'm waiting for my soulmate an' that's final."

"Of course."

"No matter how gorgeous Bruce Banner is."

"Whatever you say, Fitz."

He glared at her smiling face out of the corner of his eye. "I hate you sometimes."

"You're the one with a huge crush on a man who doesn't work in your field of science."

"I understand enough from you. We could hold conversations…" He was feeling sleepy again. "But he's not mine to want. Should stop this…"

His eyes drifted shut, and the last thing he remembered was Jemma patting his hand.

* * *

Jemma glanced up, did a double-take, and leapt to her feet.

"Dr. Banner!" she exclaimed. He looked at Fitz pointedly, and she quietened down.

"I'm just here to check on your friend," he said. "Good thing he's asleep."

"If he could apologise without stammering, I'm sure he'd be only too delighted to tell you how sorry he was for everything he said."

"It's alright. He was cold and tired and injured. People aren't always at their most coherent when their defences are down like that."

"No," she said, looking down at her friend. "I suppose not."

"The, uh, the rest of the Avengers are on their way here," the doctor said, pointing over his shoulder. "I'll head back with them, just in case… in case he asked."

"Oh no, please stay," she said. "I'd like to talk with you, and I know Fitz would love to look at you. His crush is terribly serious, I'm afraid. He'd never consider… 'being' with anyone who wasn't his soulmate, but you're the exception to the rule."

He chuckled uncertainly. "Tell him… not to worry. We won't hang around long. It was nice meeting you, Agent Simmons."

No. That wasn't an uncertain giggle. It was a _nervous_ one. And he couldn't wait to get away. Surely he wasn't…

Quickly, Jemma moved in front of the doctor and glared at him.

"It's you, isn't it?" she said. "I know Fitz's words, and they'd fit what you might have said when rescuing him. The writing of his soulmark is as awful as any doctor, and I'm betting that it would match yours. You would've seen his soulmark, he would've spoken your words… The question is, why don't you want him?" She rested her fists on her hips and waited for an answer.

"I don't know what you're—"

"Not the right answer. If you weren't his soulmate, you'd still know what I was talking about, only you wouldn't play dumb. You'd straight-out deny it. The fact that you're _not_ doing that is telling."

"…Agent Simmons—"

"Is Fitz your soulmate?" He hesitated. "Tell me the truth!"

He sighed. "Yes. But I don't want to drag a nice kid like him—"

"We're both of us only a few years off thirty, I'll have you know."

"Into the mess that's my life. Code Green is the Other Guy. I'm the semi-sentient battering ram and killing machine that the Avengers crank out when they need more muscle than just Thor and Steve. I'm more helpful as a monster than I am as a scientist anymore. Anything I do in my field of work, my _real_ work, is hidden under a generic name and listed as someone who works for Stark Industries. I'm not the man I was before."

"Fitz knows all that, and he's still been half in love with you for over a decade. Longer than I've known him! We eventually bonded over a mutual respect for your work, although he… oh my God, I should've seen it. He used to doodle your initials in the margins of his workbooks, or the corners of blueprints in the early days."

"My initials?"

"And his. Separated by a plus sign and surrounded by a heart-shape. Not a real heart, of course, Fitz can get a bit squeamish about… never mind. But I should've seen the signs. Normally level-headed people who get left-field crushes on someone they've never met—"

"Often turn out to be soulmates," he finished. "I've heard that. But it doesn't change the fact that I'm no one's ideal soulmate."

"You're his, otherwise he wouldn't have your handwriting on him, and vice versa." He still looked unsure. "Sit down by the bed and tell him when he wakes up again. If the two of you aren't kissing the next time I see you, I shall be very disappointed. Unless… you don't want a non-platonic relationship?"

"It's not up to me," he said, shrugging. "It's up to the Other Guy."

"The other…? Oh, right. Um, I'd rather Fitz _not_ be turned into a pancake."

"I wouldn't let that happen." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I'll talk with him, but I can't get his hopes up. It wouldn't be fair. And what if it's awkward? He's had feelings for me for a long time—"

"And he's a bit of a fanboy."

"So…"

She touched his arm. "The two of you have to feel your way around this, but I'm sure you'll manage."

He looked towards the bed, and then nodded. "Thank you, Agent Simmons."

"You're welcome, Dr. Banner. Don't mess it up."

"I wouldn't dare."

* * *

There was no point in hiding it as they waited for the last Avengers to arrive. Tony and Clint had picked up Bruce and Fitz, leaving the others to head back to base, only to turn right around and head for the Playground as soon as Tony reported that Phil was not only alive, but head of New SHIELD.

Thor was the only one smiling of the three original Avengers approaching Phil. In fact he was grinning widely, which Phil chalked up to Thor being grateful when anyone turned out not to be dead. Even Loki being alive had bolstered him, despite the alien being slightly… psychotic.

"Hi," Phil said to them, giving the three a short wave. Thor laughed.

"It cheers me to know that you are alive, Son of Coul," he said, clapping Phil on his back and nearly sending him sprawling. "If only every ally could be thus restored to us."

"Not a way I would recommend to anyone," Phil said, patting Thor's hand still resting on his shoulder. "But thank you."

Natasha walked up to him, and Phil fully expected a punch, something along those lines. Instead she gave him a short, tight hug.

"Don't ever do that again," she whispered. Then she pulled back, her eyes suspiciously wet, and it brought a lump to Phil's throat as she set her jaw and backed off. It just left Captain Rogers, who shook his head.

"That's all you have to say to us?" he said. "After all this time thinking you were dead, that's _all_ you have to say? 'Hi'?"

Shit, Phil hadn't even been thinking when he'd said 'Hi'. Of course he'd wondered about the soulmark which had formed when he came back to life. It wasn't noted on his records, and he hadn't told anyone. Anyone who'd known that he didn't have a soulmark before presumed that he… well, 'didn't have a soul' would be putting it harshly, but it certainly gave credence to the rumours that he was a robot. Maybe the TAHITI Project, what he went through, gave him a soul? Or maybe he had to die fully to receive his soulmark? After all, anyone else would have gained a new soulmate under the same circumstances.

He'd hoped it was Audrey, since she'd been blank, but he knew it wasn't her handwriting.

No. Apparently Steve Rogers was his soulmate.

Goddamnit.

"If anyone needs me, I'll be in my office," he said quietly, directing it at his team, and he escaped before anyone could stop him.

As long as he didn't say anything to the captain, he'd never know. Sure, some of the hero worship was there, because Steve Rogers _was_ a hero, an extraordinary person, but Phil had been reminded that he was also human. He'd had time to think before confronting Loki, about the fact that the man behind the suit was grieving and discombobulated, and Phil wouldn't have helped that.

Well, there was no point in dwelling on his behaviour. One-sided soulmarks were possible. Rare, but there were cases, although it was usually a non-platonic bond. Just because his crush on the captain had dimmed after being blown off the second, it didn't mean he couldn't yearn for someone. Of course his ideal man would be…

No. Each time Phil met someone he hadn't spoken to since TAHITI, he'd say 'Hi' and wait for their reaction. It was impossible that Captain America – or the man behind the suit – would be _his_ soulmate.

* * *

Jemma poked her head around the corner and looked at Skye, who was scowling at the scene before them.

"…no need to act like that."

"Why was I the only one to greet him with a kind word?"

"He lied to us!"

"That's no excuse, Steve, and you know it!"

"What's happening?" she asked Skye.

"Captain America yelled at DC for keeping the whole being-alive thing from them, and now the others are pissed, even though Hawkeye and Iron Man were also mean to him. Thor's the only one who smiled. The Black Widow hugged him, though, which was really unexpected, kinda sweet, and pretty scary all rolled into one."

Jemma leaned into Skye's side. "I keep wondering what it would be like if my parents found out that I was alive. What would their first reaction be? Disbelief? Happiness? Anger? I like to think they'd be a bit incredulous, but mainly happy and surprised. If they were angry at me I'd never forgive myself, and I'd certainly never want to darken their doorstep again. Then possibly go on a drinking binge and drunk-call for you to pick me up. Or go home with a stranger and hope it's not a HYDRA agent sent to kill me."

"One of us would go with you," Skye said.

It was then they noticed the silence, and the Avengers staring at them.

"Your parents think you're dead?" Captain Rogers said. Jemma tilted her chin up.

"Yes," she said. "It was necessary, to protect them from HYDRA. Coulson can't have his happy ending either, not while HYDRA is around. His soulmate thinks he's dead, and… if you heard me mention my parents, then you'll no doubt have heard the rest. Just think about how much he's hurting."

"Coulson doesn't have a soulmark," Barton said.

"Yes, he does."

"He doesn't. Not… not before."

"Well, he does now. I've seen it." She shrugged at their raised eyebrows. "I'm the team's physician. It's fairly accusing as well. Whoever his soulmate is, they don't deserve him, not if they're going to be so confrontational."

"What does it say?" Skye asked. "Come on. Don't make me hack the security footage."

Jemma frowned, trying to remember. "Uh, 'That's all you have to say?' is the first sentence. Then something about thinking that Coulson was dead. It ends with 'Hi'?, at least the question mark is certainly implied."

Everyone else stared at Captain Rogers. She hoped he was feeling guilty.

"That's not what I came here to tell you," she continued. "Dr. Banner is Fitz's soulmate, as it turns out. I've managed to convince him to look past Fitz's crush – no doubt an early indicator of soulmateship – and see the possibilities of something to work from. It doesn't help that he seems to have incredibly low self-esteem. I think they'll both have to give each other confidence before anything can happen, but they're soulmates. It's unlikely to be a purely platonic relationship with the way Fitz feels about Dr. Banner. They'll look rather cute together, in my opinion."

"I'm sure they will," Skye said, but she was still staring at the captain. He swallowed visibly, and glanced at them.

"Where's his office?" he asked.

"Why?" Jemma said, bristling. "Are you going to apologise?"

He laughed hollowly. "Guess I should start there."

"It's not that hard to find with your super senses," Skye said. "Small base, after all."

He headed off the way Coulson had left, and Jemma frowned at Skye, confused.

"What was that about?" she asked.

* * *

Steve's heart was heavy as he knocked at the office door. There was a soft 'Go away', so he opened the door. Coulson's face darkened as he looked up, though he seemed to falter when he noticed who it was.

"Can I come in?" Steve said. Coulson pursed his lips, but he nodded towards the chair on the opposite side of the desk. Steve closed the door and stood behind the seat, not yet ready to sit down. "I'm sorry. It's good to see you alive, like Thor said. I mean, Bucky's alive, so I should be happy that another person I thought was dead turned out to be okay as well, right? It's not like you're the Red Skull. I did mourn you, I think I should say that. I didn't know you, but I'd heard you were a good man, and you didn't see me at my best. I used to be a happier person, even during the war. After Bucky fell to… what I _thought_ was his death, and I lost my chance with Peggy even though I was blank, and woke up to a new world and still no soulmark… Not a good place to be. You didn't have a soulmark until after you came back to life?" Coulson shook his head. The silence was frustrating. "Say something, damn it! Say… say 'Hi' to me."

After a beat, Coulson said, "No."

…Oh.

Steve clenched his jaw, and turned away. "Sorry to take up your time. I was operating under a misapprehension."

He noticed that Coulson relaxed too soon, suspicious in itself. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw that the director seemed to be trying to keep himself together and failing at it spectacularly. He turned back, and saw the blank mask slip into place.

"Can I help you with anything else, Captain Rogers?"

"Can you forgive me for my outburst?"

"Already done. In your position…"

"In my position you would've been happy. Maybe had a harsh word or two, but then you probably would've followed it up with a hug."

Coulson half-smiled, transforming his face. "I probably would've done."

"So would I, once upon a time."

"…Yes. Well, I have work to do."

"Fitz and Bruce are soulmates, according to your doctor."

"Ah." Coulson picked up a pen and started twirling it. "Thank you for notifying me. That will… need careful consideration. Goodbye, captain."

Steve scratched absently at the itch where his soulmark was on his outer thigh. Coulson's gaze shot to it and then away again, barely a split second, but noticeable enough to Steve's sharp eyes.

"What?" he said.

"I said goodbye, captain."

"Did I say your words?"

Coulson didn't flinch. A brilliant piece of acting, if Steve's suspicions – and the rest of the team, for that matter – proved to be true.

"My words? You mean the words of my soulmark?"

"Yeah."

"No, you didn't."

"Can I ask what they are?"

"Ask all you want, but that doesn't mean I'm going to tell you."

Steve stared at him. "The first word you said to us was 'Hi'. I was included in that. You said my soul word."

"I'm sure I'm not the first one, nor will I be the last."

"But if I got a hold of your writing, just a sample, it wouldn't look anything like the writing of my soulmark, would it?"

Coulson opened his mouth, shut it again, and finally dragged up the courage to speak.

"No," he said. "Not that 'Hi' is much to go on."

"Still, I should check anyway, shouldn't I?"

"Anything in this office is classified."

"I'll find it somewhere else. Or maybe Clint or Natasha would recognise it from past paperwork? But that'd only be if it was your writing, of course."

"…Of course. Which it won't… wouldn't be."

"Course not. See you later, Coulson. Sorry, _Director_ Coulson."

"Goodbye," Coulson said crisply.

Steve knew not to push his luck, and hurried off to find someone to confirm the writing for him.

Because it had to be Coulson. If it wasn't Steve was going to have to keep looking, and he… he was tired of being alone. He wanted it to be Coulson, for his sake as well. The man didn't deserve to be on his own, for all he had a team. Steve had a team, and he still knew what it was like to be on his own while surrounded by people.

* * *

Leo knew he was gaping unattractively, but he couldn't help it.

Bruce Banner. Was his. _Soulmate_.

Inconceivable, yet there it was. They were soulmates. The doctor had shown him the mark on his back, which made Leo blushed on so many levels. His embarrassing babble, the position they'd have to be in to bond, the fact that Bruce… he had to call him Bruce… was even considering a bond. If the Other Guy was alright with it.

"Well, he saved my life without knowing me, so I'd say he's probably on board," Leo said. "I can just… hold you from behind. There doesn't have to be anything… energetic about it."

"You mean sexual."

"You probably shouldn't say things like that in front of me while I'm in a hospital gown and can't do anything about… about my reaction."

"Or I could help with that," Bruce said, his eyes twinkling. Leo. Did that.

"Finally met my soulmate, and he's _you_," he said, still unable to believe it. "It never made sense for me to be so interested in your work before I met Jemma. I'm an engineer, my interests don't lie in biology. Though I could be persuaded to explore your anatomy in detail." He leered, and Bruce laughed. God, he was handsome like that.

"Thank you."

"Anytime."

There was chatter approaching them. It sounded like Jemma and… Skye?

"Uh-oh," Bruce said, and he smirked. "I promised that next time Dr. Simmons saw us, I'd be kissing you."

"Wha—"

Then there wasn't much room for thought as a hot doctor loomed over Leo and began kissing him like he was… like he was a colonist aiming to claim land. Or a scientist trying to prove a theory. Probably more appropriate for them. And once tongue came into play… well, who needed to think when their soulmate was kissing them, and pretty enthusiastically, at that?

"Lovely to see you took my suggestion to heart, Dr. Banner."

Leo scowled over Bruce's shoulder at his so-called best friend, who was beaming.

"You're right, they _are_ cute together," Skye said. "Can we adopt them?"

"No one's being adopted," Leo said acerbically.

"But I'm going to have to take you with me," Bruce said, playing with Leo's hair. "Or stay here, but I don't know whether your base could handle the Other Guy."

His heart sank. "Does that mean… but I don't know what to do."

"It means I want to get to know you," Bruce said.

"I can't just abandon my team, an' you can't abandon yours."

"I would if it meant I could be with you. Or spend time with you, at least."

"Well." Skye perched on the end of Leo's bed. "If Captain America and Coulson are soulmates as well, the teams are gonna be linked together whether they like it or not."

"Coulson and Steve?" Bruce said, his eyebrows shooting up. "Seriously?"

"It's just speculation," Jemma said. "It would help my memory if I knew what was said."

"I'll grab the footage for you," Skye said, already on her tablet.

"The sensible thing to do would be for New SHIELD to move into Stark Tower," Bruce said. "We have better resources, more space."

"It'd defeat the purpose of being a secret base," Leo said.

"No one has to know who you are. Just as long as I can kiss you like that again." He twined their fingers together, and Leo cleared his throat.

"Right, well," he said. "I'm sure Coulson will do the sensible thi—"

Captain America burst into the room.

"Got any samples of Coulson's writing?" he asked.

"Uh… probably?" Skye said. "Why?"

He pushed his trousers down and showed off his mark. "Does it look like this?"

Skye gaped. "Yeah. That definitely looks like his writing."

"It certainly does," Jemma said, frowning. "Why didn't you ask him to check?"

The captain pulled his trousers back into place, scowling.

"Because he's a lying, stubborn asshole, that's why," he said. Then he ran out of the room again, swearing creatively.

"I think it looks like our teams will be combining forces," Bruce said dryly. He looked at the girls. "Now scoot. We were busy."

"Yes, Dr. Banner, sir," Jemma said, and she skedaddled, followed by Skye.

Leo rather liked this kissing business, especially when it was with his soulmate.

* * *

**Steve's going to have fun convincing Phil, isn't he? I don't know why the latter is being so stubborn, not really. Ah well.**

**This story sprang from the idea of Fitz being rescued by Bruce, and passing out after he said his words, and Bruce discovering that whatever he'd said to Fitz while the latter was losing consciousness was his soulmark, leading to him trying to hide it from Fitz to 'keep him safe'. Naturally, it doesn't work for long. And Phil/Steve happened because Simmons was talking about irrational fanboy-ism, and how it can be indicative of soulmateship.**

**Anyway. Please review! The internet's running slow, so I haven't seen the latest episode because it takes SO LONG to download. It's been about an hour, and the download's only 34% of the way through. Grr! And rich text doesn't show up as an option on AO3, which means typing in the html code like I used to.**


	88. Runaways (Bucky x Fitz x Skye)

**Note: Canon-divergent from S02E12 onwards, both for SHIELD and the Avengers, especially re. Bucky.**

"Runaways"

'One day you'll make a decision,' Leo's grandmother used to say. 'It'll decide your soulmate for you.'

'But doesn't Fate say who our soulmate is?'

'Sometimes the most powerful relationships have to be tested before Fate decides who's worthy.'

'But—'

'You have no soulmark. Your loyalty will be tested one day. Choose your soulmate, and you'll gain your marks.'

'My soulmate's blank as well?'

'And will be until one of you decides. Whoever is older will be the one put to the test.'

Leo was reminded of those old conversations when he promised to protect Skye by lying to the others, and his soulmark formed.

"We're soulmates?" Skye said, examining her writing on his hand.

"I'm sorry it took so long, Skye—"

"Doesn't matter. The point is, what do we do now?"

He smiled grimly. "We keep mum about what happened here, and test the waters to find out how the others feel about…"

"Me?"

"People like you. Raina's out there, and I know they've started a manhunt. Just because they might feel differently about you doesn't mean that their feelings about others are right. It's a kind of racism, I guess."

"Fitz." She hugged him again. "Thank you."

"Eh, you've always been kind to me. And it turns out that we're soulmates. I'll do whatever I have to, to protect you."

* * *

After Sif and the Kree had departed, and everyone went to bed for the night, Leo grabbed his things and Skye's, whatever they could reasonably carry, including some of his things from the lab. Then he went to the vault and lowered the barrier, before shaking her awake.

"Wha…?"

"Come on, Skye," he whispered. "We have to go."

"Fitz—"

"I'm not letting you stay here like this. We're going to find someplace safer."

"You're…" She sat up, rubbing her eyes. "You're sending me away?"

"Taking you away. I have some ideas about where we can go. I did a bit of research, and it all boils down to us having to get to New York."

She stared at him. "Come again?"

"I brought your things." He placed a bag beside her. "Tell me if there's anything else you need for the journey. I'll withdraw all my cash at the first ATM we find, so they can't trace us beyond that. Your laptop's here, so you can mess with security cameras if necessary. We can find one of those schools of hairdressing, cheap hairstyling, get a new look. Just long enough to escape notice until we reach a safe place."

"This looks fine," she said. "But what about the security camera for this room?"

"Have you ever seen _Speed_?"

"…A feedback loop?"

"You've been sleeping soundly for an hour. I know; I checked. We only need it to go undetected for long enough to get as far from here as we can."

"Fitz, are you sure about this?"

"It's the only way, Skye. I don't trust them not to…"

"Hurt me?"

"Imprison you, at least. You don't deserve that. You've had enough shit thrown at you."

She kissed him on the cheek without warning. "Thanks."

"It's alright. Just get changed quickly. I'll keep an eye out at the door."

As soon as she was ready to go, Leo dragged Skye out of the Playground.

* * *

Skye stared at the cash he'd withdrawn. "I didn't know SHIELD paid that well."

"I do have other accounts," he said. "Some patents of mine still earn income. Besides, we'll need as much as we can get. I don't know how far we are from New York."

"Probably the other side of the country, knowing our luck."

He grabbed hold of her hand. "It's alright now, Skye."

"We're going to be wanted fugitives from SHIELD."

"And HYDRA wants us as well."

"So what's your big plan?"

"Let's see." He checked his watch. "They'll soon notice that we're gone. Either the feedback loop will be discovered or someone will check on you, or someone will try to bug me until I open my door and then discover that I'm gone. Also, certain things are missing from the lab, and I may've stolen some food for us as well."

"It's not stealing when it's for us," she said.

"We left our SHIELD identification cards behind, because they could've traced them. Since we're no longer agents, we're technically…"

"Rogues," Skye concluded. Fitz nodded. "Great plan. What next?"

"I don't know whether or not you're a… a mutant," he said. "If you are, we could go to the Xavier Institute."

"Or…?"

"Or we go to…" He coughed, and lowered his voice. "Stark Industries."

"…Are you _nuts_?" she hissed.

"D'you have any better ideas?"

"Fitz—"

"Calm down. D'you want to cause an earthquake?"

She took a few deep breaths. "Why SI?"

"Because… of the Hulk."

"…You want him to fix me?"

"If you can't be fixed, which is a possibility, then you need to learn to control this. You can't go around breaking lights every time you get upset, Skye." He continued to usher her to the nearby train station, and they stopped at the ticket office. "So we have to find someone whose ability is… uh…"

"Destructive?"

"Yes. That."

"I don't want this, Fitz!"

"Shh." He ordered and paid for their tickets swiftly. When he pulled her over to the side, he looked around. "We've got five minutes before the train arrives. There's not much of a chance they'll have caught up to us yet."

"It should be impossible, if no one's noticed us missing until now."

"I'm surprised there are any trains running this early, but I shouldn't be."

He pulled her through the ticket barrier, and they arrived at a platform. Skye looked at her ticket and frowned.

"Fitz, this isn't for another fifteen minutes."

"I know."

"You said five."

"We're catching this one." He led her along the platform, and she noticed they were just out of the security camera's sight. Then he pulled her onto the wrong train, and took her to the middle carriage.

"There won't even be a tail on us yet," she said.

"The ticket office camera will have seen and heard me ordering tickets for New Haven, which is where the other train is headed."

Skye checked her ticket again. "What?"

"When the guard gets here, I'll be shocked that I got the wrong tickets, purchase new ones from him, and that'll buy us some time while the others are scouring the security cameras on the other train to find us. It's a long ride, and we can't rely on May to warn us when they're getting close. I thought we could change to a bus service somewhere along the line, eventually back to the train, get a makeover, and when we get to New York go straight to… wherever we decide to go."

"Fitz, this is a huge risk."

"You're worth it."

Skye knew there were tears in her eyes. "This is… probably the nicest thing anyone's done for me in a long time."

"I suppose it's a bit grander than a bouquet of flowers."

"Just means that it… _means_ a lot more. Thank you, Fitz."

"You're welcome, petal."

She raised her eyebrows, and he gazed out the window as the train started to move.

It was impressive how he handled the ticket inspector, and she played along. It reminded her of another train journey when they'd pretended to be together. This time, though, they knew they were soulmates, which made it seem more real, even though they hadn't had time to discuss the nature of their relationship. It still didn't seem… whole. Like it wasn't supposed to be the two of them. Like there was supposed to be…

"Do you think we're supposed to have a third?" she asked. He looked relieved.

"You feel that, too?" he asked. "Like it's not complete?"

"Yeah. I wasn't sure whether it'd settle if we bonded, or if it meant something else."

"I think we do have a third," he said. "Must be older than us. D'you think it could be May?"

"She already has a soulmark."

"Really?"

"Not that she talks about it."

"So if it isn't May…"

"Maybe we haven't met whoever it is yet?" Skye said.

"Yeah." He took her hand. "But let's not think about that. We need to get you to safety. Even if it takes a couple of days, we'll get there."

* * *

Bucky was sitting between Steve and Sam. He had to remember their names, especially Steve, since they'd been friends back before… before HYDRA. He was trying to get used to the name 'Bucky', because everyone knew him as 'Bucky', and it felt like it was supposed to be his name. But he was the Asset, the Winter Soldier, HYDRA's weapon.

"Sir, a young man and woman are at the front desk asking to see you," JARVIS said, making Bucky jump slightly.

"Show me," Stark said. A screen appeared, showing two strangers at reception. "And sound."

"…_need Dr. Banner's help. We know he's here_."

"_It's okay, Fitz. We can come back if we have to_."

"_No, you need help_ now_, before they come after you again_."

The young woman had shoulder-length black hair with streaks, held back by a headband, and the young man had dark spiky hair. They born wore black eye makeup and were wearing clothes which were apparently 'Goth'. Not that they seemed comfortable dressed like that, and the girl seemed to have short hairs on her neck, as though her hair had only recently been cut.

"What do they want, J?" Stark said.

"Dr. Banner's assistance, sir."

"Yeah, got that. Specifically?"

"They refuse to say."

"And who's after them?"

"Again, they are being secretive, sir."

"Huh."

"_D'you have pen and paper_?"

"_Yes, sir_."

"_Great. Can I…? Thanks_." He scribbled something down, then walked over to one of the cameras.

"JARVIS," Stark said. The camera switched so that they could see the writing on the note: 'She makes the ground shake when upset. Needs help controlling it.'

"I can see why they'd ask for my help," Banner muttered. "Should I go down there?"

"Not alone," Steve said. "We'll all go."

It must've been intimidating for the strangers to be faced with all the Avengers at once, even though Banner was still normal-sized and –coloured, not big and green. Bucky knew how they felt. The first time he'd come to Stark Tower, he'd faced all of them, too.

"What's this all about?" Steve asked, crossing his arms. The young woman looked at her companion, who stepped forward.

"Can we talk someone more private—"

"No."

"…Right. Well, Skye recently acquired powers in, uh… tra… trauma—"

"Traumatising," she said.

"Traumatising circumstances," he said. "When she gets upset about something, she makes the ground quake and breaks glass. But only if she's upset."

"I need someone to fix me," she said.

"But if it can't be fixed, then she needs to learn how to control it. You were the first person I thought of, Dr. Banner."

"Flattering," Banner said. "But do you really think a skyscraper is the safest place for her to be, if this is true?"

"I caused an earthquake in Puerto Rico," Skye said. "I don't… I don't wanna do this. If you can make it stop, undo it or something, that'd be great."

"Skye, I don't know whether it can be reversed—"

"We won't know until we try, Fitz!"

"You heard what Lady Sif and the Kree said about the Obelisk."

"Diviner."

"Yeah, whatever it is. If they think—"

"You have seen Lady Sif?" Thor rumbled. "When was this?"

"Only a few days ago," Fitz said. "She was chasing a Kree who was searching for—"

"Diviners?"

"Yeah."

Thor said something in Asgardian which was probably a curse word. That wasn't good.

"If there are Diviners on Midgard, that is a dangerous thing," he said. "They turn people into weapons."

Fitz visibly tensed, and moved back to Skye's side.

"Are you one of those who thinks the people should be eradicated?" he asked.

"You do not know what power you are playing with."

"She's my friend, and she didn't want it!"

"What happened to the Diviner? Have you seen others?"

"Stop," Skye whispered.

"Leave her alone!" Fitz said. "She's just as much a victim in this as… as…"

The ground began to tremble and the girl stumbled back. Fitz grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her into a hug.

"There now, Skye, calm down, I'm sorry, we're not arguing, please calm down, don't do this, we'll get help, alright? Calm down, Skye. Deep breaths…"

Slowly, the tremors stopped, and she held onto Fitz. Bucky glanced at the Avengers, who were all trading serious looks. He stepped between the two groups, his back towards the strangers.

"Leave them alone," he said.

"We can't stay here if she's going to face more persecution from you, Thor," Fitz said.

"It seems that she is as dangerous as I feared," Thor said. "She must be contained."

"You antagonising her doesn't seem to help," Bucky snapped.

"We should just go, Fitz," Skye said softly. Bucky looked over his shoulder at them.

"Neither of you are going anywhere just yet," he said. He scowled at Steve. "If you send them away, I'm going with them. I know what it's like to face all of you, not knowing whether it was a good idea to come here, to see you arguing about whether or not I could stay, to know that I could lose myself and hurt people if I didn't keep control. I _still_ feel like I don't belong, just waiting until you decide that you don't want the Winter Soldier here anymore and then kick me out."

"Bucky, we wouldn't do that," Steve said.

"_You _might not, but you against all of them? I don't feel safe here, ever, not even when I sleep. If you're not going to welcome them, then I'm leaving. Because she obviously needs your help, and if you won't give her that, then I will."

"You expect us to let strangers stay here?" Stark said. "They could be anyone. She could bring the whole building down on us during her sleep!"

"He's right, Fitz," Skye said. "It's too risky."

"We don't have to stay here," Fitz said. "Though I'm surprised any of your towers could possibly be that flimsy, Mr. Stark."

"You know, there's a dick joke in there somewhere," Barton said.

"It's okay," Skye said, touching Bucky's arm. "But thanks for trying."

"Yeah, we'll never forget that," Fitz said, touching his other arm. He frowned, and then pulled Bucky's sleeve up, his eyes widening.

"Uh—"

"Whoa! That's incredible."

"Fitz, not the time to get lost in engineering," Skye said, and she pulled him away.

"Stop," Bucky said. "Wait here. I'm gonna grab my stuff, not that I've got much."

"Bucky, please," Steve said.

"You don't wanna welcome them, fine. But I told you. If they're leaving, I'm leaving."

He was about to walk past Steve when he felt itchy in a couple of places. One of them was his stomach, and he raised his shirt to stare at the writing on his belly: 'It's okay. But thanks for trying.' He noticed Skye scratching at her back, and Fitz rubbing his left arm. Bucky checked his right arm, where the other itch was, and read: 'Yeah, we'll never forget that.' He met their eyes.

"You're my soulmates," he murmured.

"Seems like," Fitz said.

"You'll… you'll wait right here? I won't be long."

Steve tried to grab his arm. "Bucky, you don't have to leave—"

"I'm not abandoning my soulmates, Steven! I've done a lot of bad things as the Winter Soldier, and I don't think I deserve even one soulmate, let alone two. But if Fate thinks I deserve them, then I'm not gonna take it for granted. JARVIS?"

"Yes, Sergeant Barnes?"

"Make sure they don't leave."

"But we still don't know who they work for," Steve said. "They don't have anyone to vouch for them."

"Coulson might," Fitz said. "Phil Coulson? New director of SHIELD? He'd vouch for us, if his opinion mattered at all to any of you."

"Coulson?" Romanov said, tensing. "What do you know about Phil Coulson?"

Bucky chewed his lower lip on the way to his floor. JARVIS showed him the ensuing conversation, which involved Skye waiting on the other side of the room and covering her ears while Fitz fielded rapid-fire questions about his work for SHIELD.

They couldn't be HYDRA. Bucky was good at it, picking who was HYDRA and who wasn't. And if they knew Coulson – who, by all accounts, the Avengers respected – then they couldn't be all bad. Not if he could vouch for them even after they ran. That there was any kind of danger to them made him furious, and he was glad _he_ didn't have quaking powers, or Stark Tower would be in serious danger.

By the time he arrived back downstairs with his bag in hand, there was a quiet discussion taking place among the superheroes, and Skye was back at Fitz's side. He smiled hesitantly at them.

"Wanna get outta here?" he asked, hoisting his bag to his shoulder. "I know a few safe places to stay."

"Yeah, let's go," Fitz said, picking up his bag. Skye mirrored his action, and all three set off for the doors.

"Bucky!"

He glared at his friend. "Back off, Steve. I get the feelin' I've overstayed my welcome."

"No, Bucky—"

"Assumin' I was ever welcome in the first place. Don't try to find me."

"He's your friend," Skye said. "You don't have to do this just because…"

"Yes, I do," he said firmly. "It's as good a start as any to wipe away some of the bad stuff I've done in the past."

"It wasn't your fault," Fitz said.

Bucky looked him over, and then smirked.

"I'll let you look at my arm," he offered. Fitz's eyes lit up, and he glanced at Skye.

"He's coming with us," he said.

They were nearly out the door when Steve made a last-ditch effort.

"Bucky, we can work something out. Just… don't go."

He squared his shoulders. "An' that's another thing. Bucky died long ago. Stop livin' in the past. My mind's been tampered with. I can't remember enough of the 'good old days' to be able to talk about them. My name isn't Bucky. Just… stop."

"Come on, James," Skye said after a few seconds of silence. "If you're ready to go?"

"I've been ready for a long time."

"How good are you at hiding from people?" Fitz asked as they walked away from Stark Tower. "Because we could really use some tips…"

* * *

**Wow. Okay, this turned to angst somewhere along the way. I blame the timing. And the wet weather. If you're going to rain, rain in North and West Queensland, not in the city! Bah!**

**Ship was requested by Sailor Light Angel. Being an obliging author… I was reading a fan fic which made me wonder what would happen if Fitz, fed up with everyone's behaviour, ran away with Skye to keep her safe from any potential witch hunts, which led to them going to Stark Tower and finding their soulmates. Then I noticed this ship on my list and thought 'Yay! I'll go with that!', not realising that the light-hearted tone I was going for would disappear. Sigh. Bad habit of mine.**

**Please review, peeps!**


	89. Dread Pirates (Fitz x Rumlow)

"Dread Pirates"

You were never too old to dress up as a pirate for a fancy dress party, and Brock Rumlow would continue to do so until he found his soulmate. He was the head of the STRIKE team, a feared and respected senior agent, and an agent of HYDRA (not that many people knew the last one). The point was, no one was going to laugh at him for walking around in tall boots, long coat, head scarf and tricorn hat, and three-quarter length pants. It helped that the sword in his belt was real, and he could wield it expertly. A single dark look would halt any sniggering. He didn't go as far as neglecting his personal hygiene, of course, didn't black one single tooth. Not the best first impression to make on his soulmate.

He probably should've gone all black, like that guy in _The Princess Bride_ (which he only watched to understand the reference). Besides, he wore all black most of the time. As long as he didn't dress like Jack Sparrow, he didn't care. His soulmate would know.

"Agent Rumlow!"

He clenched his teeth, and then turned around with his best smile in place.

"Agent Weaver," he said. "I didn't think the academy crowd would be interested in our little gathering."

"We all work for SHIELD," she said. She was dressed as… some female scientist, he would've thought, but she was in period dress. "You were interested to speak to the designer of your new tracking equipment."

"Yes, I was," he said.

"Some of my students don't get out much, so I brought them along tonight," she said, and she pulled a young man over to them. "Fitz, this is Brock Rumlow, head of STRIKE."

The young man looked Brock over, and half-smiled. "So you're the Dread Pirate Rumlow," he said.

"At least the field agents put some effort into their costumes," Weaver said.

"They're used to disguises! We stay in our safe little labs."

Brock took in their argument with some degree of amusement, but mostly relief.

"…coming as Ada Lovelace, did you already have that dress in your wardrobe?"

"I hired it from a shop, Fitz, which you could've done."

"I preferred not to dress up."

Weaver sighed, and smiled at Brock. "He came as himself, apparently."

"No, he didn't," Brock replied, and then he turned his head to Fitz. "You came as my soulmate."

Fitz's jaw dropped. "Oh my God…"

"Soulmate?" Weaver said, looking from one of them to the other. She must have noticed Fitz's blush as well, because she grinned. "Well, I'll leave the two of you to talk. Don't just talk shop, mind."

"Yes, professor," Fitz mumbled. She patted him on the back and wandered off to a group of youngsters who looked lost, probably more students from the academy.

"Fitz?" Brock said.

"My first name is Leopold, but most people call me Fitz. Or Leo, if they're family."

"And what am I?" Brock asked, leading Fitz to the drinks table.

"…You're my soulmate, apparently. That puts you in an entirely different category, doesn't it?"

Brock handed Fitz a cup of punch. "So what do you want me to call you?"

Fitz looked up at him beneath his eyelashes. "Whatever you want, dearie."

Goddamn, he wanted to kiss the smirk off those lips, but not in public. He had a reputation to maintain, and jumping a SHIELD academy student at a costume party didn't match that reputation. Well, maybe on a hedonistic level, but he didn't want to draw that kind of attention. So they made small talk about the tracker Fitz had not only designed, but built himself, and the adjustment he'd made to the firearms they used.

"That explains the tingle I get when I use my gun," Brock said, and he peeled off one of his leather gloves to show Fitz the soulmark. "I'm right-handed. I was using something you'd made, and it was brushing against your mark."

"Yeah." Fitz hesitated, and then removed the band over his left wrist, to show Brock his mark. It was his writing, sure enough.

"You realise this is why I've been dressing like a pirate for every costume party I've attended the last couple of decades," Brock said. "I even watched _The Princess Bride_ because of it."

"Haven't seen the film. Only heard of the term 'Dread Pirate'."

Brock laughed. "I'm tempted to change that just because of this."

"An' you're the reason I've never dressed up to go to a fancy dress party," Fitz said. "I didn't think there was much point if I was just going as someone's soulmate."

"Maybe next time we could both dress as pirates."

"A rollicking band of pirates, eh?"

"Speaking of rollicking…" Brock dropped his voice and placed their drinks aside. "You wanna take this someplace more private?"

"I-I…"

"You don't have to. But if you're interested in something less than platonic…"

"Oh yes," Fitz said, and he licked his lips as he looked Brock up and down. "Definitely interested."

"Then do you really want to… in front of all these people?"

"…Probably best if we go somewhere else. I'll just tell Weaver and Simmons."

"Simmons?"

"Best friend, lab partner. We're called FitzSimmons."

"Ah." Brock felt a stab of jealousy. "I didn't realise that was two names. Heard of you guys, of course."

"Really?" Fitz brightened. "I won't be long. But she'll want to meet you. Later. It can wait `til…"

"I have quarters on base. It's not all that far. I can take you back to the academy afterwards if you can still walk."

Fitz's cheeks went bright red, and he hurried over to his friends. Brock suppressed an instinctive scowl when Fitz spoke to a pretty young woman – probably Simmons – and got a kiss on the cheek from her. But Fitz returned to his side, was _his_ soulmate.

"Let's go," he said.

"Follow me."

As soon as they walked into an empty hallway, out of sight of other people, Brock pressed Fitz against the wall and planted one on him. Fitz squeaked in surprise, but melted into Brock's wandering hands, becoming deliciously pliant and submissive. The placement of their soulmarks was giving Brock wicked ideas. While Fitz was still distracted with the kiss, he pulled off his glove again, then moved Fitz's hands from his shoulders to either side of his head. He shoved the wrist band out of the way and pressed their soulmarks together.

"Holy shit!" Fitz whispered against Brock's mouth.

"I know." There was a powerful thrum beneath his skin, flooding from the soulmark to his fingertips, along his arm, and spreading throughout his body. He cut off Fitz's curses, smashing their lips together again and this time licking his way into his soulmate's mouth. He crushed Fitz against the wall with the full length of his body, grinding against him, and Fitz whimpered as he broke the kiss.

"Stop, or this'll be over before it begins," he said. More smug than disappointed, Brock released him and stepped back.

"Sorry about that," he said. A blatant lie. "I forgot myself as soon as I got a taste of you. It won't be the last time, I'll bet."

Fitz was breathing heavily, and he nodded. "Where's, uh… where's your bedroom?"

Brock took his hand and led him through another corridor, down a set of stairs, and further along until they reached the field agents' quarters. He unlocked the door to his room, and gestured Fitz in ahead of him. Until they were bonded, he wouldn't key Fitz to his identification, but then that was procedure if soulmateships were discovered between SHIELD agents. Even though Fitz was from the academy, they were on the same system; and it worked both ways. He could have access to Fitz's lab, if he wanted it.

This was turning out to be a very good night.

"Uh, this is…" He raised an eyebrow as Fitz searched for words. "I wasn't expecting this. I s'pose I should've been prepared, what with it being a costume party, but I'm not—"

"Take it easy," Brock said, and he stroked Fitz's arms. "It doesn't have to go any further than you're comfortable with. He can bond without taking anything else off. It's not like our marks are in obviously… non-platonic positions. Nothing to suggest that sex has to take place."

"But…" Fitz licked his lips again, a distracting habit that Brock both hated and loved. "I want to. That. Take place. Uh…"

"We can improvise," Brock said, removing his hat, scarf, and sword. "I'm very creative, Fitz."

"I-I'm sure you are."

"We could lie on our sides, fully clothed, while I hold your wrist."

"There's that."

"Or I could be pressing you into my mattress and holding your hands down."

Fitz swallowed. "Better."

"Or rubbing off against you while holding your hands down."

"Mmm."

Brock slipped his belt off slowly, drawing Fitz's attention to his waist. "Or I could be taking you while you sit on my lap and I keep your arms pinned behind you."

"Damn it, Brock! D'you want me to… to embarrass myself like this?"

"Take your pants off if you don't want to ruin them. I think I'll have to do the same myself. Looking at you, I'm gettin' such filthy ideas…"

Fitz pulled off his clothes with all haste and no finesse. Brock undressed smoothly and swiftly, and then moved to his dresser.

"We all keep emergency kits," he said. "I should have enough protection. Haven't used it in a long time, but I keep everything current just in case. Never know who you might have to seduce for a mission." Fitz's face fell, reflected in the mirror. "Or if someone else needs it. Or, best case scenario, you find your soulmate." He pulled condom and lube out of the kit and returned to Fitz, who was standing there, looking awkward and pink-faced and bashful, and making Brock's heart clench. "You ever done this before?"

Fitz shrugged. "Only a couple of times. After a party where I still haven't found my soulmate."

"It'll only be me from now on, sweetheart."

"And…?" He looked so unsure that Brock wanted to get down on his knees and swear an oath, an irrational reaction which he tamped down immediately.

"I'll always find another option, now that I've got you," he said. "No more seducing targets. Not even a kiss." He touched Fitz's nose. "Only you from here on out."

This time Fitz initiated the kiss. His bare skin was unexpectedly warm beneath Brock's hands, despite the chill in the air. He led Fitz over to the bed and sank onto the edge of it, before pulling his soulmate into his lap.

"How'd you want this, Fitz?" Brock murmured. "On our sides? You on your back, or in my lap?"

"C-can I choose 'All of the above'?"

He growled. "I hoped you'd say that."

* * *

Enjoying the afterglow, Brock snuggled around Fitz, dirty but content, their soulmarks still pressed together.

"So it started as a rivalry, but you became best friends?"

"Yeah. She's still searching for her soulmate, but she's dead keen on meeting you. I should probably warn you that if she threatens you not to hurt me… well, she may seem harmless, but she's a genius when it comes to bio-sciences, and any threat like that… she could pull off."

"You're both assuming that I'd ever hurt you deliberately. Or accidentally."

"…D'you have any scary friends who are going to threaten to make me disappear if I hurt you?"

"All my friends are scary, Fitz."

"Damn."

He kissed behind Fitz's ear. "I'd do anything to keep you safe."

"I feel the same way."

"I know. I can feel it." He squeezed Fitz's wrist gently. "I'm a lucky son of a bitch."

"Towards… towards the end there… what languages were you speaking?"

Brock thought back over it. "I think it was a mix of Italian, German, Croatian, possibly some French…"

"Damn, Brock."

"Got a language kink? `Cause I could exploit that all day, sweetheart."

Fitz snorted. "I hope not. I don't think I could cope."

Brock held him tighter. "Tell me more about your work with Simmons."

"We've both got doctorates, of course, otherwise we couldn't go to the academy."

"So you're both doctors."

"Yes."

"Does that make you…" He'd probably get an elbow to the ribs for this, but it'd be worth it. "A pair of docs?"

"A pair…?"

"A pair-a-docs?"

"Is that a play on 'paradox'?"

"A most ingenious pair-a-docs?"

"Oh my God, you're awful."

"The worst."

"Don't… don't ever change."

Brock buried his nose in Fitz's hair and didn't reply.

* * *

_Three years later_

It was a really inconvenient time to be getting a call from his bond-mate and secret fiancé, but Brock couldn't not answer. Even though the Triskelion was under attack from the commandeered Helicarriers and he'd been revealed as HYDRA to everyone there, he couldn't leave Fitz hanging.

"Hey, sweetheart, how's it going?" he asked.

"Brock, are you anywhere near the Hub?"

"No, I'm not. What's wrong?"

"Simmons is there. She's… she's there, and HYDRA's in SHIELD, and she's in danger. Oh God, Brock, what do I do?"

"Fitz, are you alright? Is there anyone there with you? Are you in danger?"

"You mean aside from the Clairvoyant trying to pick us off? I'm fine, I'm with the team. We're all on the same side. But Simmons is in real danger. I don't know how many people at the Hub might be traitors to SHIELD. We have to do something. I don't know whether we can get there, but—"

"I'll do what I can," Brock said, even though he really _couldn't_ do anything.

"Did you know that HYDRA was in SHIELD? No, wait, stupid question, sorry—"

"Yes, I knew," Brock said.

"…_What_?"

"Captain America just announced it. The Triskelion's falling down around my ears."

"Wait, what? Get out of there! Look, I'll keep trying to get in touch with Simmons, just _get yourself out_! I can't…"

"Fitz, I'll be okay."

"I can't do this without you. You're my soulmate."

"I know. I love you, Fitz."

"Don't say that! That means you think you might die."

"It's a possibility. Tell me, Fitz. Say it."

Fitz's voice sounded thick as he replied, "I love you, too, Brock."

"I'll see you on the other side. I hope you find Simmons."

While escaping – screw Project Insight, his soulmate was terrified – Brock sent out a message to any HYDRA agents who were still alive to ask if anyone was at the Hub. All the while he ran to the transport room, where he could try to get a `jet. There was a hell of a lot of destruction, and he had to be covert where he could so that the wrong people wouldn't see him trying to leave the scene without completing the mission.

He found two remaining planes, checked over the closest one, and found it was in perfect working order, aside from broken glass on the roof. He flew out of there before the third Helicarrier hit the base, and plotted the co-ordinates for the Hub.

Now it was all out in the open. If he was lucky he would continue to get away with the lie he'd been living, at least until he worked out what to do next. He wasn't letting Fitz go, no way in _hell_ was he doing that. If he was lucky, he'd never have to choose.

'If he was lucky'. That was the phrase of the hour.

The Hub was on lockdown, and he hadn't been able to contact Fitz to ask him whether Simmons was safe. Brock was fond of Simmons; she couldn't lie to save her life, like Fitz. He landed on the roof and climbed down the outside until he came to a broken window, then hopped inside. He drew a firearm and crept through the facility, until he heard a definitely-female shriek. He hurried in that direction, pretty sure it was Simmons, and cursed when he saw Hand there with some of her lackeys. They immediately aimed at him, and he surrendered, shuffling to Simmons' side.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Not really. Have you been able to contact Fitz?"

"He asked me to check on you. You haven't heard from him?"

"Quiet!" Agent Hand snapped. "You three have a choice. Either swear undying loyalty to HYDRA or you die. No third option."

"I'd rather die," Simmons said.

"Better dead than a traitor," the guy beside Simmons said. Hand looked at Brock. He knew she wasn't HYDRA; this was a test.

"I will," he said, and she raised her eyebrows. "If you let them go _unharmed_. If you kill them, you'll have to go through me."

Hand scrutinised them, then smiled. "Good choice," she said. "That's three more people I can trust. You had me worried there, Agent Rumlow."

"Soon as they were gone, I would've turned on you and gone down fighting. As he said, better dead than a traitor."

Simmons hugged him, and he chuckled. "Gonna introduce me to your friend?"

"Agent Triplett, Agent Rumlow." They shook hands. "Brock is Fitz's soulmate."

"Ah, you're the guy he doesn't shut up about," Triplett said, grinning. "Nice to meet you."

"You, too."

"Enough," Hand said. "Let's get to work."

* * *

As soon as the conversation with Garrett revealed that Coulson was loyal to SHIELD – and honestly, a guy with that big a crush on Captain America seriously couldn't be HYDRA – they stormed in. Once it seemed safe, Brock sent Jemma in first. He smiled when she threw her arms around Fitz. Then she whispered something, turned Fitz to the door, and Brock waved to him from outside. His soulmate ran past everyone else and into Brock's arms.

"I was so scared," Fitz whispered, holding him tight. "Thought I was going to lose you."

"You're stuck with me forever. Didn't you know that?"

"Everything's falling down around us, Brock. What do we do?"

"We follow orders, like we always do." Fitz lifted an eyebrow. "Most of the time."

"Wish I could marry you now. We might not live to see tomorrow."

"Me, too. Come on. I think it's time for strategy meetings."

"Is that what they're calling it now?" Triplett said.

Somehow, Brock was able to avoid being seen by any HYDRA agents, and no one mentioned him by name. Maybe he _would_ miraculously get away with it?

"Are you coming with us?" Fitz asked.

"I have no idea what happened to the rest of my team, and I got out of the Triskelion just before it was completely destroyed," Brock said. "You saved my life, telling me about Simmons. If I hadn't left when I did to go find her, I'd probably be d—"

"Don't. Don't say that. Please come with us? We need as many trustworthy people as we can get our hands on."

"You wanna get your hands on me, huh?" Brock murmured. Fitz flushed.

"Y'know what I mean," he said.

"Just teasing. Take me to your leader."

Then their leader – Coulson, since Hand left with Garrett, Ward, and other agents – took them through the Canadian wilderness on what was possibly a wild goose chase. If it was, Brock would probably strangle Coulson for putting Fitz through this.

But no. It was a comfortable little base, and Brock just wanted to pull Fitz aside for some private time. Was it too much to ask? But nope. He had to go through a lie detector, one Romanov was supposed to be unable to beat.

Oh joy.

_Just think of Fitz_, he told himself, before sitting down and squirming until he was comfortable.

"Sorry, I'm ready," he said.

"Sure?"

"If I got an ache that could throw the readings, couldn't it?"

"You're a smart man, Agent Rumlow," Koenig said.

"Thanks."

"We're gonna start with some easy questions and establish a baseline. Can I have your full name?"

"Brock Rumlow. No middle name."

"Eye colour?"

"Hazel."

"You ever been married and-or bonded?"

"Bonded to my soulmate, Leopold Fitz. Not married yet."

"Yet?"

"Secret engagement." Koenig tilted his head.

"Congratulations," he said. "Please list your immediate family."

"None. Only Fitz. And by extension Simmons."

"What's the difference between an egg and a rock?"

Brock raised his eyebrows. Right…

"One is living, one is dead. I'm sure Fitz could give you a long list, though."

"Have you ever heard of Project Insight?" Koenig asked.

"I was at the Triskelion today. Heard and saw plenty about it then."

The agent winced. "My sympathies."

"I probably lost friends today, and I might never know." Brock relaxed his fists, aware that tension might skew the results. "Sorry. I'm sure it'll be a sort point for a long time."

"I doubt any of us will get over the betrayal anytime soon," Koenig said. "Have you ever had contact with Alexander Pierce?"

"Met him around the Triskelion. Hell, he was there today."

"You wash up on a deserted island alone. Sitting on the sand is a box. What is in that box?"

"Fitz. No, that'd be selfish. But he'd be able to get us off the island, no problem. So yeah, actually, my soulmate." Saddest thing was that it was true. He'd become such a sap.

"SHIELD no longer exists. The agency has been labelled a terrorist organisation. So why are you here?"

"Fitz. Again. And I guess SHIELD is only extinct to those who think it is. While there are people prepared to fight, there'll always be an army. And where Fitz goes…" He trailed off, and cleared his throat. Koenig looked amused. "It all comes down to my soulmate, in the end."

Koenig looked over the lie detector, and then switched it off.

"Congratulations, Agent Rumlow," he said. "Let's go get you a lanyard."

It seemed that sappiness had a place in being an undercover agent. He was sent straight to where Fitz was waiting, and they clinked lanyards together.

"Hey," Brock said.

"Hello," Fitz said.

"…Know if there's somewhere private we can go? I need to check you over. And we haven't had a minute to ourselves for _weeks_."

"Well, you've been jaunting around with Captain America, and I've been helping the others chase down Centipede and the Clairvoyant—"

"When we're married we'll _make_ time to be together."

The others were listening, he realised, and he smiled weakly at them.

"Uh… can any of you perform a wedding ceremony?" Brock asked.

"Got rings?" Coulson said.

"Dog tags," Fitz said, drawing out the long chain around his neck with one of Brock's tags. He pulled out his own, which had the addition of two rings. Fitz's eyes widened.

"You don't have to wear one," he said. "Just on the chain. But you come from a traditional fam-mph!"

It was hard to detach Fitz from his mouth after that, not that he especially wanted to, but there were people around. Coulson cleared his throat.

"I went undercover as a priest once," he said. "Was even ordained, though we pushed the paperwork through at speed. But I'm still qualified…"

"Thank you," Brock said.

"Maybe you should keep your hands off me until we're married, then," Fitz said, poking him in the side. "Make an honest man out of me."

"Tease." Fitz fluttered his eyelashes, and Brock rolled his eyes. "Fine."

* * *

Brock insisted on going along with them to capture Marcus Daniels. Now he and Fitz were married, he was going to guard his soulmate with his life. It was as he feared; HYDRA had managed to enhance Daniels' powers. But Fitz, clever Fitz, _brilliant_ Fitz, came up with the solution. He watched, his heart tight in his chest, as Coulson comforted his lonely soulmate when she wouldn't even know that it was really him. Could he ever be that self-sacrificing for Fitz's sake?

If he had been, he would've left HYDRA the minute he realised his soulmate was SHIELD through and through. Brock was a terrible person. Because he was finally seeing what he could've had for much longer if he wasn't HYDRA.

Another 'if only' was added to his list when the arrived back at Providence. If only he'd known every HYDRA agent. He could've warned them about Ward. Instead, he was left comforting a shocked Fitz, and helping Coulson and Hill take out soldiers before going on the run. Brock elected himself protector of 'the kids' as the most senior agent without Coulson around. Not that there was a ranking system anymore, he imagined.

The motel was pretty basic, but they needed somewhere low-key. He bobbed around in the water while Simmons and Fitz talked, reassuring each other that they weren't HYDRA. Neither of them asked him, and he began to swim more vigorously. He had to be in peak condition with this skeleton crew, and he didn't feel much better when Skye and Coulson returned. He wouldn't have minded travelling around with his soulmate and Simmons indefinitely. As long as they were safe, from both SHIELD and HYDRA.

"You're sure this is safe?" Brock asked. They'd found the Bus, and were sending one of the DWARFs onto the plane to infiltrate it. "Seems too easy."

"Maybe our luck is changing?" Simmons said.

"Or maybe not."

All three whirled around, and Rumlow froze when he saw that it was Ward. Then he stepped forward, despite the gun being pointed at him.

"You two, run," he said.

"They'll be seen," Ward said. "If you try to attack me, I'll shoot, and we'll take them anyway. Please, resist. My job would be so much easier if I didn't have a field agent to deal with."

"Brock, don't be stupid," Fitz said. "Please."

"Brock?" Ward said. "Brock _Rumlow_?"

"Fitz-Rumlow," Simmons said.

Ward grinned, and Brock felt sick to his stomach. "Leader of the STRIKE team?" Brock nodded shortly. "I'm sure Garrett will be… interested in seeing you."

That was it. The end was coming. Fitz would hate Brock, and so would Simmons. Only just married to his soulmate, and Brock was going to lose everything because he'd been on the wrong side. He held Fitz's hand tightly, staring straight ahead until they were in front of John Garrett.

"Is this Brock Rumlow I see before me?" he asked, standing up. "I do declare it is." He smirked. "Hail HYDRA." Brock didn't speak; he just clutched FitzSimmons' wrists tightly. "Well, what's the matter? All of STRIKE team – apart from Captain America – were HYDRA, and you're the only one left. Their leader. Reporting personally to Alexander Pierce. Why, you were about as high as could be without actually being a head of HYDRA. Now you're cosying up with Coulson's team?"

"Brock, what is he talking about?" Fitz whispered.

"No longer Rumlow, sir," Ward said. "Fitz-Rumlow. Seems they married."

Garrett burst out laughing. Brock wished he knew the Bus better, and where HYDRA agents might be stationed. Where Fitz and Simmons would be safe.

"This is priceless," Garrett said. "Fucking your way to gaining their trust?"

"How _dare_ you!" Brock hissed. "You don't know anything about!"

"Start by killing Rumlow," he said. "I don't think he'll be any use to us." His eyes narrowed somewhere to Fitz's right. "What's that?" Ward grabbed Fitz's hand, and Brock recognised the device.

"Looks like a joy-buzzer," Ward said.

"Yeah, you know me," Fitz said. "Always playing pranks."

Then he activated the EMP. Garrett collapsed, and in the confusion Brock shoved Fitz and Simmons behind him.

"Run!" he said. "I'll find you. Just go. Hide."

"Is it true?" Fitz said, looking him right in the eyes. "Brock, tell me. Is it true?"

"I'll tell you everything you wanna know later. But run now. I'll hold `em off as long as I can."

"Kill them!" Garrett shouted. Brock pushed FitzSimmons hard, forcing them to run, and turned back to deal with as many HYDRA agents as he could take down. Ward somehow got past him, and he heard the scientists shouting at him. He killed the agents he could, and then ran, getting there in time to see Ward send his soulmate and Simmons out the plane.

"No," he breathed. Ward looked ready for a fight, but Brock couldn't waste time. One thing he did know about the plane was where to find emergency items, and he _would_ kill anyone who'd get in his way.

He left the parachute behind, and keeping a line going to the life raft, he swam with goggles and a light, searching for the box. He knew Fitz was still alive, and he could only hope that Simmons was as well. He nearly inhaled water when he found the room floating a hundred feet below the surface. They weren't supposed to sink at all unless the door was open. He swam back to the surface, grabbed the two spare oxygen tanks – _please let them be necessary_ – and carried them down, allowing the weight of the metal to drag him towards the room. As soon as he was in front of one window, he waited for Fitz and Simmons to look up. They did, and he indicated the tanks.

They seemed to trust that he wanted to help them, but there was no way to communicate, which was frustrating as hell. He held up a finger, then transferred both cylinders to one hand. Simmons began to point to one side and down. He swam around and saw an emergency lever which would open the hatch. Problem was, he couldn't pull on it and keep the cylinders and masks close to the hatch at the same time. And the room would begin to sink as soon as water flooded in. God, this was terrifying.

But… he'd kept wires from the parachute. He kept the cylinders under one arm and, with fumbling fingers, tied a couple of loops on the ends. He hooked one around the lever, carefully unrolling it, and then hooked the other around the hatch handle and wound the end around his belt. Fitz and Simmons were watching as he swam back to the hatch, grateful for all that practise at the motel. He held up three fingers, then put one down, then the next, and saw them both take a deep breath. He pulled one wire, and the hatch doors burst open. The scientists shot up towards him and the hatch dragged him down. He didn't relax until they were both wearing the masks. He unhooked the end of the hatch wire, and swam up behind them until they reached the surface.

The life raft was a bit flooded from when it had been jerked down, but they managed to scoop out most of the water, and Brock boosted both of them to safety before joining them. He slumped down, removing his oxygen tank, and took great breaths he didn't need.

"I don't know how to let anyone know where we are," he said.

"We sent out a signal on secure SHIELD channels," Simmons said. "If we're lucky—"

"Look!" Fitz said. "Is that a plane?"

"I hope it's not a bird if it's going to be that big."

"I'm sorry I took so long," Brock said. "I was searching manually."

"Why did he think you were HYDRA?" Fitz asked. Brock swallowed, and looked at his feet.

"Because I was," he said. The other two gasped. "Even after I met and bonded with you, Fitz. I've been a HYDRA agent for a long time, decades. Hard habit to break, if you can call it a habit. The bad kind, I guess. And I wanted… _so_ much to betray all that, just for you, but I couldn't. The wrong people knew we were soulmates. They would've used you against me if I'd shown even the _slightest_ inclination to change sides. You and Simmons, when I accepted her as a part of the family. Or… you accepted me. It's not fair, I know, and I'll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness, if that's even possible. If it isn't, I won't blame you." He touched the place where his tag and ring rested against his heart. "And if you want me to…" He swallowed, and concentrated on the approaching Quinjet. "I really hope that's help."

He avoided their eyes as the Quinjet hovered near them, and Nick Fury – still alive, seriously? – stuck his head out the hatch and threw them a rope. They all climbed to safety, and even Brock was welcomed aboard. Well, he was allowed on board, not left to die, so he counted that as a win.

"Thought STRIKE team was all HYDRA, especially you, according to Rogers," Fury said.

"A change of heart. Anything to protect my family." He glanced at FitzSimmons, but still didn't make eye contact. "What are your orders, sir?"

"I think you'd better fill me in on what's been happening."

Brock gave his report succinctly. Fury confirmed details with Fitz and Simmons, and then left them to talk to the pilot. Brock still couldn't look at them. He was convinced he'd lost them, especially Fitz, forever. He buried his face in his hands, and the more he thought over losing his two scientists, of Fitz taking the ring and dog tag away – or worse, handing his own back – the more it brought him closer to tears. Fuck, he'd been so _stupid_. If he'd confessed from the start, he could've already made it up to them, to everyone. But no. He'd been an idiot, and he was going to lose everything important to him because of it.

Someone put hands on his knees, and he looked between his fingers. It was Fitz, and Brock lowered his hands, ready to take whatever was coming to him. It damn near broke his heart when Fitz wiped the moisture from Brock's cheeks.

"You're not Grant Ward," Fitz said softly. "You weren't the one who pushed us out of the plane."

"I still betrayed—"

"You searched for us, and then saved us. I hate to think what might've happened if you hadn't brought oxygen. We might've kept sinking."

"Don't. I'm already gonna have nightmares about losing you. New ones, anyway."

"You're crying," Simmons said. She was standing beside Brock, and she touched his shoulder. "You chose us over HYDRA. Ward didn't do that."

"He was family to you."

"You were our family first," Fitz said. "Brock…"

"You don't understand. If it wasn't for you I'd still be loyal to HYDRA."

"Which is the difference," Simmons said. "Ward could've chosen us. He was sleeping with May and in love with Skye, and he still returned to Garrett's side. Whoever you once owed loyalty to, you chose us instead."

"Because I love you both. You're my soulmate, Fitz. And you're my little sister, Simmons."

Fitz leaned up, cupped the back of Brock's head, and tugged him into a kiss. This… it didn't make sense. Where was the punishment? He'd done a bad thing. He shouldn't have… Was this just supposed to be a distraction? Were they going to kill him while he was off-guard? Didn't they know he expected it, and wouldn't argue?

"Stop it," Fitz growled. "I can feel what you're feeling, remember? You're confused, and scared, and resigned, and you're _not_ enjoying a kiss with your husband."

"Why aren't you killing me?" Brock said. "You have to punish me."

"Why?" Simmons asked.

"Because…"

"We're not HYDRA," Fitz said. "There's a difference."

Brock stared at Fitz. If he concentrated, he could feel his soulmate's honesty… and affection. For Brock.

"You don't hate me," he said.

"You're my soulmate and husband, Brock Fitz-Rumlow. You've helped us, protected us. Hearing what happened at the Triskelion, knowing you flew out of there to find Simmons for me instead of staying behind and ensuring that Project Insight went ahead… you did the right thing. I can't hate you for that."

"But for being HYDRA—"

"I'm pissed about that, but mostly relieved that you're on our side now. You… _are_ on our side now, aren't you?"

"Yes. It goes without saying, but yes, I'm no longer HYDRA."

"Well, you didn't reply when Garrett said 'Hail', so I figured…" He shrugged. "I'm not going to punish you, and neither will Simmons. You seem to be doing a pretty good job of it yourself." Brock bowed his head, but Fitz tipped it back up again and stroked his damp cheeks. "Don't cry, dearie. The only way you could ever make me stop loving you would be if you betrayed us, and you never have."

"Except by not telling you that HYDRA was in—"

"You did the same thing that Ward did, keeping that secret, but the difference is that you had a change of heart."

"Not my heart to change."

Fitz kissed him again. This time, Brock accepted it. He'd take whatever he could get. After the kiss, Simmons hugged him. Then he scowled at them.

"You should be strapped in as we're flying," he said.

"Come and sit between us," Simmons said. "There are three seats here."

Their hands were small and cool in his, still clammy from swimming. He used them to ground himself, the scientists leaning against his shoulders. He met Fury's gaze.

'Thank you,' he mouthed. If it wasn't for the director, they'd still be down in that raft, hoping for help but not really expecting it.

"I'll alert your team," Fury said. "We're going to another of my safe houses. You'll need to be checked over for injuries."

"Brock first," Fitz said.

"He fought off half a dozen HYDRA agents to protect us," Simmons added.

"Wasn't _quite_ half a dozen," Brock muttered. Fitz smacked him on the knee.

"You're going to be checked first, an' that's final," he said. Brock smiled, closing his eyes as he rested his head back.

"Yes, dear," he said.

* * *

**I didn't mean to write Simmons into the relationship as a sort of third party, but if you're the soulmate for one of them, certainly at this point in their friendship, you have to accept the other one as part of the package. Personally, I think it's cute.**

**I'm on kind of a roll with chapters today. Over 10 000 words written! I'm quite impressed. Well, it's been a rainy day, and I stayed in because I had to wash my hair, and I've been fairly productive. Okay, only in fan fiction, not original, but hey. Established reader fanbase. *Indicates dedicated readers***

**This idea came from the references to Dread Pirate Rumlow from SoupShue and ozhawk, and the request for Fitz/Rhodey/Rumlow from stilesherox3. I couldn't think of how to incorporate Rhodey, at least not in this chapter, but Fitz was just too irresistible.**

'**Pirates of Penzance' references ended up in this. Oops. Specifically, 'A rollicking band of pirates', 'A most ingenious paradox', and even the pilot at the end (although that was a delightful accident).**

**Please review!**


	90. Visions of Tahiti (PCxVision, CBxJSxLB)

**Note: Slight spoilers for 'Agents of SHIELD' and definite spoilers for **_**Age of Ultron**_**. A fix-it is involved, but please don't read if you haven't seen the movie. I started writing it before I'd seen S02E18, so definitely non-canon from end of it onwards.**

"Visions of Tahiti"

Phil was walking between Bobbi and Mack when a car squealed to a stop beside them. The two agents drew weapons, aimed them at the car, when a man stepped out of it. A very familiar man.

"Aren't you a bit early?" Phil said.

"Director Fury?" Bobbi said.

"Not the director," Fury said, walking up to them. Three people poured out of the vehicle behind him, aiming at Bobbi and Mack. "I'm gonna have to take _my_ director back. He's needed somewhere else."

"He surrendered to us," Mack said. Phil shot him a scathing look.

"Well, now I don't feel bad about this," he said. "I knew we were on different sides, but really? You make it sound so much worse."

"Come with me, Phil," Fury said, holding out his hand. "You're needed in Europe, or will be. The Avengers…"

"What happened?" he asked, tensing.

"You might be needed. Come on. Time's running short, and it's a long way to…" He glanced at the others. "Europe."

Mack and Bobbi had to back off as Phil walked over to his former commander. He didn't look back at them as he climbed in behind Fury.

"Got everything?"

"Yeah," Phil said. "Fitz and Hunter have everything else. I hope."

"The toolbox?"

"Afraid so."

Fury's eye narrowed. Then he shut the door, and they were off and driving.

"Repeat that," he said.

"Got it here, sir," Phil said. He removed the holographic chip from the knot of his tie, revealing a large bulge in the main part, hidden by the holograph.

"Good thing they didn't pat down your front."

"Good thing they somehow missed the strain on the knot," Phil said, and he handed the toolbox to Fury. "We wrote down the most relevant information. Seemed pertinent to keep paper copies, just in case."

"You were right. The internet's been hacked by a robot calling himself Ultron. Stark and Banner created him based on von Strucker's tech. The Avengers are headed for Sokovia now, and we're gonna meet them there."

"We're _driving_ to Europe?"

"We're driving to my secret weapon."

"One of many, I assume," Phil said dryly. Fury chuckled.

"You know me too well, Coulson."

"I wish. Did you know about Gonzales starting his own version of SHIELD?"

Fury sighed. "Whole damn thing's a clusterfuck."

"No kidding."

"But we've got bigger worries."

"What?" Phil said, glancing out the window. "Like the end of the world?"

"Got it in one."

"…I was joking."

"Still hit the nail on the head. Ultron wants to destroy Earth and its inhabitants."

"End of the world? _Again_?"

"You missed the climax last time," Fury said. "Wanna see the action up close?"

Slowly, Phil grinned.

"Actually, yeah," he said. "Sounds like fun. As long as Romanov doesn't punch me for keeping my… resurrection a secret this long."

"Hope that she keeps making cow-eyes at Banner. Best distraction for her."

"…_Banner_? I've only been gone a couple of years!"

Fury shrugged. "I guess we've got time for a bit of water cooler gossip. You see, there was so much fuss about the Helicarriers for Project Insight that nearly everyone forgot about the one Barton nearly took down."

Phil stared at the former director. "You have a Helicarrier."

"SHIELD isn't on stable ground yet… either of them, since it appears there's more than one. I needed a place to stay and a way to travel."

"And you have people," Phil said.

"Who'll be under your – or our – leadership once the organisation is strong."

"How can it be strong without the resources you clearly have?"

"Calm down, Coulson. I'll need you on top of your game."

"Why?"

"In case an Avenger gets injured."

"They'll probably all get injured," Phil said, the thought paining him. "That comes with the job. What do you _really_ mean?"

"…In case an Avenger gets killed."

It all made a weird kind of sense… and didn't. "Project TAHITI? That's what this is about? You know all of the GH formula was destroyed."

"And whose fault was that?"

"_Yours_. For keeping it from me in the first place, and forcing us to break into the facility, injuring the guards and causing the mountain to self-destruct. But how do you intend to dispense a formula which doesn't exist, and causes its… its _victims_ to become mentally unstable? Especially considering that they're high-powered people?"

"Because Simmons left behind blood samples when the Hub was attacked," Fury said as they pulled up by the river. "Because someone found that the GH self-replicated once it was in the blood stream. Because being in someone else's blood _stabilised_ its effects."

"And I suppose you had to test it on people to find out," he said.

"Brock Rumlow was one of them. We didn't care whether he lived or died. Other people killed or injured during the fall of SHIELD." They walked to the edge of the river. Fury picked up a handful of gravel and tossed it over the water, showing where the gang plank connected the mainland to the Helicarrier. "Problem is, we've run out of the blood."

"You need to drain me?" Phil said. "Those were Skye's blood samples, not mine."

"Before she became powered," Fury said. Slowly, the Helicarrier became visible as the motors started. A plane landed near them, one Phil recognised, and out walked Hunter and FitzSimmons.

"What happened?" he asked. "How did Simmons get here?" It probably wasn't wise to mention Ward and Agent 33 until Fury did.

"They picked her up from the Playground. Figured we might need your team's expertise. And keep them away from Gonzales. Plus, you like them."

"What about May?" he said. Simmons winced.

"That's… complicated," she said.

"I guess she needed to stay behind and keep an eye on them," Phil agreed, nodding.

"We have a memory machine on board," Fury said. "There are things you need to see."

"Oh, I've seen everything."

"Not yet you haven't. Only what you were awake for."

"…What do you mean? Nick, what the _hell_ have you been keeping from me?" Fury ushered them inside, grimacing at Phil's raised voice.

"You haven't been operated on since you nearly died," he said.

"No, I haven't."

"That wasn't a question. If you were operated on, you'd be asking me about… what we left inside you."

Phil could actually feel the blood drain from his face. Hunter helped him to a chair, fussing like the other half of their old married couple dynamic.

"What did you leave inside me, apart from alien blood?" he asked hollowly. "And did May know about it?"

"She didn't know all the details," Fury said. "The blood was the unknown element."

"So what did you leave in me?"

Fury cleared his throat. "This'd be a lot easier if you were into steampunk."

"…Are you saying I'm _part-robot_?"

"Not like Garrett. What's inside you, the machine… Someone get him coffee before he passes out!"

"Machine," Phil whispered. "All those probie jokes about me being a robot are harsher in hindsight. Kind of like HYDRA, only on a smaller scale."

"Do you know what TAHITI stands for?"

"Terrestrialised Alien Host Integrative Tissue number one," he recited. He was never going to forget one of the worst days of his life.

"That's one acronym."

Phil moaned, burying his face in his hands. "I hate to ask what the other one is."

"Touch-Activated Healing Intravenous Transfusion Instrument."

"Bet you had fun coming up with that one," Hunter remarked. Fury scowled at him, but Phil was pleased to see that Hunter was unaffected.

"Touch-activated?" Phil said. "Intravenous transfusion? I'm a glorified blood bank?"

Fury's expression didn't change. "Yes."

* * *

Clint rested on the bench beside Pietro Maximoff, mourning the loss of the boy. Young man, not boy. It didn't take long to get to the Helicarrier – trust Fury to have one stashed away – but he was depressingly sure that there was nothing to be done. Nevertheless, Pietro was loaded straight onto a stretcher, and Clint followed as it was wheeled away. If Wanda couldn't be here to watch over her twin, the least Clint could do was be there for him, even though he'd died saving them.

"Get him to an operating theatre!" a young woman snapped, running beside the stretcher. She checked his injuries, cutting away at his sweater with a dexterity he didn't anticipate considering they were all moving at a rapid pace. "Damn it, multiple shot wounds. This had better work."

"What're you going to do to him?" Clint asked as they bustled into a theatre. She pushed him right out again.

"Stay out here, sir, and let us do our work," she said firmly. Then the door was closed, and someone else was pushing him to the waiting room.

"I hate it when people say stuff like that," he muttered. Suddenly, his eyes widened. But never exactly that. Not until now.

Hands shaking, he pulled out his cell phone and then started to dial the number for home, before remembering why he didn't call from the Helicarrier. It wasn't safe, in case the number was traced. He'd have to tell Laura that he'd found their third later. Or… maybe he could take the young woman – a doctor? – back to the farm with him? No. He was getting ahead of himself. They needed to compare soulmarks first.

But if it _was_ her…

* * *

"Sit there," Simmons instructed after they'd all scrubbed. Phil obediently sat, and Fury stood beside him. "I presume I'll be told when I need to… touch the director in some way?"

"You don't touch him. He needs to be touching the boy."

"You make me sound like Michael Jackson," Phil said. Fury smacked the back of his head. "Hey, what was that for?"

"Don't diss Michael Jackson."

"Still too soon?"

"Quiet!" Simmons said. "I need to remove the bullets first."

"What does this touching involve?" Phil asked Fury.

"Your blood is tapped through the vein, but your hand has to be over the injury while it heals. We can use both your hands to save time."

"Which vein?"

"In your arm. Don't worry, they all go through the machine inside your chest. It keeps the circulation consistent—"

"Like my heart."

"The heart which was _stabbed_, Coulson. How do you think we repaired that? Alien blood alone wasn't enough to fix that. Not like the super soldier serum."

"Prepping a line," a technician said. Phil didn't recognise him, but at least Simmons was here to supervise. He hated that he couldn't completely trust Nick, or at least not as much as he used to, even before today.

"So you're saying I have an artificial heart?" he said.

"I'm saying that your heart is part flesh, part cybernetics."

Phil began to feel as though he might pass out, and was grateful for the chair. When Simmons called, he was led to one beside the operating table she was bent over, and he was connected intravenously to Pietro. Then he placed his hands over the injuries while Simmons rambled on about surface-level biometrics confirming his physical connection to the blood being dispensed… and after that he kind of tuned out. It was either that or pay attention and end up dizzy. He scowled, trying to remain upright, and was grateful for the hands on his shoulders.

The operation passed in a slow blur of science he could never hope to understand (or pronounce), an ache in his arms, and the recurring sense of betrayal. Maybe Hunter was right? Maybe they should just head south of the border and live out their lives away from the madness of SHIELD? Part machine. How was that missed? _Let me guess_, he thought. _Cloaking materials of some kind. Typical Fury._

He was eventually relieved of the lines, and heard enough to know that the operation had been successful. The GH formula in his veins had worked, and would continue to renew itself thanks to his semi-artificial heart. Pietro Maximoff would live to see another day, and Phil could get some damn sleep…

"I never noticed that soulmark before," Simmons said. Phil shook himself to stay awake as someone put plasters over the places on his arms where he'd been tapped for blood.

"Whose?" he asked.

"Yours. Just below where the needle was placed. It wasn't there last time I checked."

"Thought I was getting a rash," Phil said, trying to focus on the writing. The bottom of part of the mark was hidden by the bandage, but he could still make out the words: 'Greetings, Phillip Coulson. An honour to meet one so highly favoured by two realms.' "That wasn't there last time I checked. Mind you, I can't remember the last time I had this shirt off. My soulmate is Asgardian?" It was very precise writing, not florid like he pictured Asgardian writing to be, and it was in English.

"Maybe it's someone who's just arrived from Asgard?" Simmons said. "Perhaps the mark didn't appear until then?"

"It wasn't like that for Dr. Foster," he murmured, and he traced the letters. But he was swiftly losing focus. "I need to lie d…"

* * *

Thor looked Vision over as he watched Wanda weep by Pietro in the recovery room.

"You have a soul," Thor said.

"And so you believe that I may have a soulmark," Vision said.

"I saw it on your back before you cloaked yourself," the Asgardian replied.

"How fascinating. What did it say?"

"I saw only that there was a mark. There was no chance to read it."

"Perhaps you could help me?" With a thought, Vision shed his upper layers of clothing, and turned so that Thor could check.

"It is in English. 'What on Earth are you?'"

"Those are my words?"

"Yes."

"Then I must find a suitable response for my soulmate," Vision said. "Although I suspect many shall say such words to me."

"It would be better that you find your soulmate sooner, then," Thor said.

"Did you know that Phil's here?" Tony said, stopping in front of them with his arms crossed. "Phil Coulson? Agent-Agent Coulson?"

"Alive?" Thor said, his eyebrows rising at an alarming rate.

"I recognise this man's name," Vision said. "Tell me about him?"

Thor rhapsodised about Phillip, Son of Coul, who stood against Loki, earning praise in Asgard and commanding respect on Midgard, although he already held respect from the Avengers. A group of superheroes fought a demi-god in the name and memory of a single human. He was clearly an extraordinary man. Vision looked forward to meeting him, a… strange emotion. He trailed behind the original Avengers as they barged into a different hospital room, where a young woman with light brown hair was scolding a man with thinning hair and a rumpled suit.

"You should have agreed to have juice beforehand, and preferably a biscuit," she was saying.

"When you say biscuit, d'you mean cookie?"

"Yes, you infuriating man. What would the others say if I didn't return you to them in one piece? Goodness, and you're not the one I was operating on!"

"No. I was just your living blood dispenser. Is it really illegal to strangle Nick Fury?"

"I imagine so, although I'd help you cover it up."

"Thank you, Simmons."

"Not at all, sir." She looked over at them, and so did the man, presumably Coulson. "Do you want me to leave?"

"Stay," he said, touching her arm. "In case you _do_ have to operate on me after this."

She rounded on the Avengers, and Vision hovered at the back – not literally – to avoid her look of ire.

"He has been through hell and back, and you will _not_ harm him," she said. "I don't care how hurt you _think_ you feel, he's had it just as bad, if not worse."

"Simmons," he began.

"No, sir! You may think one of them will cause you physical harm because you kept it secret, but that is a completely unreasonable reaction to something which should be joyful news, not an excuse for more violence."

"She's right," Steve said with a sigh. "I hate it, but she's right."

"Of course she's right," Clint said, and he took a step closer to her. "Dr. Simmons?"

"Or Agent Simmons, though I'm here as a doctor."

"Did I say your soul words before? Because you said mine."

Her jaw dropped, as did nearly everyone else in the room.

"I… Yes, you did. I'm sorry, I was busy at the time, I didn't realise—"

"Neither did I, not until later. My wife will be happy to hear about this. So will the kids. We've been waiting to find you."

"You're… you're already married?"

"We can bring you in on it, if you're interested. Became kind of a necessity when we discovered she was pregnant, so…"

"I see."

"Jemma," Coulson said. "Go talk with him. I'm sure I'll be okay. I doubt they're gonna hit me while I'm on a hospital bed after helping to save one of theirs."

"Good point," Tony muttered.

"Come on," Clint said. "We can compare soulmarks, make sure we're not wrong."

"Very well." She looked back at Coulson once, but he waved her out of the room, before shrinking back under the collective stare of the rest of the Avengers. No one appeared ready to make a move, so Vision nudged his way through them.

"Greetings, Phillip Coulson," he said. "An honour to meet one so highly favoured by two realms."

The man seemed incapable of speech, and Vision waited until his mouth had stopped opening and closing soundlessly. Thor cleared his throat.

"He is one of ours," he said. Coulson nodded, gazed up at Vision, and finally settled on words.

And what words.

"What on Earth _are_ you?" he asked. Thor visibly startled.

"Rude," Tony said. "Just because he looks different—"

"Excuse me, but I've seen a Kree who was masquerading as a human," Coulson said, "so appearances have lost all meaning. And I didn't ask for the reason you thought I asked."

"I am your soulmate," Vision said. Coulson's face softened.

"And that's all I need to know, I guess," he said. "Not that we don't have a lot of talking to do, because we do."

"Of course," Vision said. "May I sit down?"

"Please." He gestured to the chair beside the bed. "It's been a hell of a day for me, so you'll have to forgive me if I'm a little out of it sometimes."

"Wait, wait, wait," Tony said, pointing between the two of them. "JARVIS in human form is—"

"JARVIS?" Coulson said. "I knew the voice was familiar…"

"It is more complicated than that," Vision said, sitting where indicated. "Shall I start from the beginning?"

"It's a very good place to start."

Vision held out his hand, palm out. Coulson hesitated, and then placed his hand on top. He gasped, and then slowly smiled at Vision.

"Never thought I'd feel that, ever," he said. "Not at this time of my life, with no soulmark until a few hours ago."

"If it is any comfort, I did not anticipate this, either."

"Disappointed?"

"No. I am very pleased indeed."

Coulson's cheeks darkened slightly. It was a pleasing reaction, which confused Vision, yet it held an undeniable charm.

"Vision and Coulson are soulmates," Tony muttered. "My head's gonna explode. I need a drink. Fury had better have a damn bar on the Helicarrier."

"We had one on the bus," Coulson said. "A really nice one."

"How do you fit a bar on a bus?"

He smiled. "Not that kind of bus."

* * *

"Laura!" Clint insisted on carrying Jemma's bag into the front hall. "Laura, I brought someone home with me!"

"If it's another stray dog—"

"Better than that!"

Jemma chewed her bottom lip, fidgeting in place while she waited.

"What if she doesn't like me?" she whispered.

"Of course she will. They'll all love you."

Laura Barton was round with pregnancy, making her look even more huggable. Jemma didn't know what she was supposed to say, and twisted her fingers together as Laura raised an eyebrow. Clint apparently wasn't going to explain, the git.

"What brings you here, sweetheart?" Laura said. Jemma held in her gasp.

"You're as lovely as he said," she replied, and then ducked her head in embarrassment at the corny comment. At least it was something complimentary.

"…I see what you mean about being better than a stray dog," Laura said, and Jemma smiled hopefully at the woman's look of amusement. "A stray soulmate is _much_ better."

"And I'm already house-trained," Jemma said. "_Plus_, I have opposable thumbs."

"She's a doctor," Clint said.

"The one who operated on Pietro? You sent a message…"

"Yes, although I couldn't have saved him on my own," Jemma said.

"Much more fun to do things together," Laura said, holding out her hand. "Come on. You've gotta meet the kids. They'll be bouncing off the walls as soon as they realise there's a new person they haven't met yet. Do you like kids?"

"I was the youngest in my family, and I haven't had much opportunity to interact with children."

"You'll get the hang of it. It'd be nice to have someone else to pop out babies. Got some catching up to do. I'm carrying number three." Jemma paled at the thought, nearly tripping over, and Laura added dryly, "I'm kidding. Now, gonna tell me your name?"

"This is Jemma Simmons," Clint said when she was speechless with relief. "She works for SHIELD."

"It's lovely to meet you, Mrs. Barton," Jemma said.

"Call me Laura. We'll all soulmates here."

* * *

Phil and Vision had spent almost an hour talking, and as soon as he was feeling less light-headed (not light-headed at all, because Jemma came back to watch him like a hawk, which was way funnier when she revealed that Barton really was her soulmate) they went for a walk around the Helicarrier. They were interrupted by debriefs, and Barton was given permission to take Jemma home which meant that Phil had to see her off. But he'd finally switched off his phone, and was now holding hands with Vision as they sat on the deck and watched the clouds.

"Thank God the cafeteria's intact," Phil said. "We used to have some of the best chefs working here. SHIELD would test homeless people, and those with cooking talent would be cleaned up, given a place to stay and training in food preparation, and then eventually put to work on bases, either on ground or on a Helicarrier like this one."

"That is noble indeed," Vision said.

"In hindsight, I hope none of them were HYDRA. No cases of food poisoning, though."

"What are your intentions now? Will you return to SHIELD?"

"If there's anything worth returning to," Phil said. "My team is here, except for May. If we get her, we can set up our new base here. I have to find the Koenig brothers as well, bring their lie detector along unless Fury has one onboard." He glanced at Vision. "And what about you? Are you going with the Avengers?"

"Perhaps. I will adapt my plans to suit yours, if you wish."

"Listen…" He entangled his fingers with Vision's. "My, uh, sex drive is pretty low. I'm sure I'd be fine with you, but if you're interested in a platonic relationship, then I just wanted to let you know that I'm cool either way."

"What does your temperature have to do with it?"

"…I mean 'cool' as in 'okay'."

"I would find any relationship acceptable. I did not anticipate that I would have a soul, but apparently I am sufficiently alive to be in possession of one."

"I only just gained my soulmark, presumably when you were born, which means that… I have _no_ idea what I'm doing. I know what's expected, but it's been so long that I'd given up hope of having a soulmate."

"Why do you suppose Fate matched us?"

Phil considered a rabbit-shaped cloud. "I don't know. Because you needed someone who wouldn't put pressure on you? Who could help you acclimatise to this world? Who could look past your powers and appearance and see a person worth caring for?"

"That is perhaps why you were chosen, yet it does not explain how I can help you."

He smiled. "You already have. You helped save the world by assisting the Avengers in stopping Ultron, and ultimately destroyed him, I understand. And for me personally? You aren't putting pressure on me to enter a non-platonic relationship."

"Not all non-platonic relationships must include sexual intercourse," Vision said. Phil blushed involuntarily.

"True," he said. "If we don't work in the same place as each other, though… I don't know how much time we'll have to spend together."

"Any time is acceptable. Perhaps my powers will allow me to travel swiftly to your side? Not as Pietro does, with speed, but with magic?"

"Like teleporting?"

"I have not explored all of my capabilities yet."

"I know one of them."

"Oh yes?" Vision said, raising an eyebrow.

"Your voice makes me swoon a little inside."

* * *

…**What?**

**I mean yes, of course it does, but why did I end the chapter there?**

**Well, I've been sitting on this since I saw the film the day it opened here, waiting for the movie to premiere overseas before posting it. I apologise to the remaining countries who have to wait.**

'**Rough Day' by ozhawk is an alternative ending to 'Ultron', like this one, except hers is more realistic (by MCU standards of realism, anyway), and obviously not set in a soulmate AU. A fix-it fic, because you can never have too many of those. In other words, highly recommended.**

**Please review!**


	91. Just My Type (Jemma x Rhodey x Sam)

**Note: Spoilers for S02E19 and 'Age of Ultron'. And a fix-it.**

"Just My Type"

"Rhodey! Honey-bear! Get over here, would you?"

Sam snorted behind his hand. But as James Rhodes walked over to them, he tried not to lick his lips and make it too obvious that he was checking out the colonel. Hot damn, that shirt was way too tight for Sam to be able to pay any attention to the conversation.

"…to Sam Wilson, the Falcon."

"So you're the guy called Falcon?" Rhodey said, and he grinned as he held out his hand. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. Pretty awesome name."

Sam nodded, trying to remember how to breathe. "That's how I got onto the program. Because of my soulmark."

Tony sniggered, and Rhodey frowned at him, then looked at Sam.

"Has he seen your soulmark?" he asked.

"No, but I've seen his handwriting," Tony said. "I'm a genius at this match-making game. JARVIS, you recorded that, right?"

"And sent it to Miss Potts, as per your instructions, sir. I am sure she will be duly impressed."

Sam was still holding onto Rhodey's hand, and he sure as hell wasn't letting go anytime soon. "Thanks, Stark."

"Yeah," Rhodey said. "Thanks, Tony. Now beat it so I can get to know my soulmate."

Tony pointed at them and make clicking sounds. "See you around."

Rhodey dragged/led Sam over to the bar.

"What's your pleasure?" Rhodey asked, opening up a cabinet. "`Cause I think this deserves a celebratory drink."

"I won't argue with you there," Sam said, eyes lingering on Rhodey's behind. "And I'm hoping _you'll_ be my pleasure."

Rhodey smirked over his shoulder at Sam. "My eyes are up here."

"Unless you have eyes in the back of your head, I'm gonna look at the rest of you when you're back's turned."

"Is that all you wanna do when my back is turned?" Rhodey asked, grabbing a bottle and bringing it over. "How's bourbon?"

"Sounds good," Sam said, watching as Rhodey poured. "You know, I had this long list of questions for my soulmate when I met whoever it was, either of them, but now I can't think of a one."

"I drive all the thoughts outta your head, do I?" Rhodey said, his fingers lingering on Sam's as he handed over the glass.

"You're not gonna start exploiting that," Sam said. "…Are you?"

"Not outside of the bedroom."

"Thank God for that, or I'd never been taken seriously as a superhero if I kept staring into space."

Rhodey moved around the bar to perch on a stool beside Sam. "I wouldn't do anything that'd endanger you, especially if it distracted you on the battlefield."

"You do that just by being you," Sam said. Rhodey grinned, put their glasses down, and then yanked Sam into a kiss. He stumbled off the stool into Rhodey's arms, vaguely wondering whether that was the intent, and decided that he didn't care. There was something different, so intense about kissing his soulmate as opposed to kissing anyone else. Why did he ever bother with anyone else when _this_ was waiting for him?

"Wanna take this somewhere else?" Rhodey said, lips only an inch away from Sam's. He raised his eyebrows.

"You think I'm that easy?" he asked. Rhodey jerked back, but his eyes narrowed as Sam tried to suppress a grin. He obviously failed, because Rhodey snorted softly.

"For your soulmate? Yeah, I think you are," he said. "D'you know who our third is?"

"No idea. I'm guessing you don't."

"Nope. But I joined the air force because I thought I might find them overseas."

"Mine's either good for the self-esteem or implies something seriously bad," Sam said.

"What does it say?"

"'Oh my God'."

Rhodey burst out laughing. "Take it as a compliment."

"Why?"

"My other soulmark says 'You're both bloody gorgeous'. Whoever it is must speak to you first."

"Well, whoever it is sure isn't wrong about you," Sam said, ogling his soulmate. "What was it you said about taking this somewhere else?"

"Let me remind you."

* * *

Jemma collapsed on her back on the couch in the recreation room.

"Someone remind me why we ever left the lab?" she asked as Fitz sat beside her head and began to play with her hair. He tugged on it none-so-gently.

"You were the one who suggested it," he said.

"Does anybody here know why?"

"I don't pretend to know what goes on in women's minds," Hunter announced from the armchair across from them. "Especially women trained in bioscience."

"Still a bone of contention for you?" Fitz said.

"Is this a convention of the British faction of SHIELD, or can anyone join in?" Coulson asked. How the hell had he crept up on them? Jemma blamed it on tiredness that they all jumped.

"Depends," Hunter said. "Got a new mission for us?"

"It involves interacting with good guys, not bad ones. As long as you don't try to blow up anyone else, Simmons."

"How did you know about Ward?" Jemma asked incredulously. "Fitz, did you tell him about the splinter bombs?"

Coulson's jaw dropped. "I was… joking. You're the least likely to blow something up deliberately… Is that why…? Actually, some of that conversation with Ward after he ran makes more sense. Damn it, Simmons!"

"He…" Jemma shrank down in her seat. "No more blowing anyone up?"

"Do I need to confiscate the splinter bombs from you? What do they even do?"

She cleared her throat. "H-HYDRA tech. Turns… it does what h-happened to Trip."

"Destroy those, or at least secure them somewhere. Actually, no, destroy them. We don't want any more Diviner-related accidents."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, this mission." He looked all three of them over and dropped his voice. "You'll be seeing Theta protocol in action. Be prepared to meet with a group of powered people. Can I trust you with them?"

"Anything to get out of here," Hunter said.

"When you say powered people…?" Fitz trailed off, looking hopeful.

"You'll see when we get there," Coulson said, and he smiled. His left eye semi-closed, the subtlest of winks.

"Is Skye coming with us?" Jemma asked.

"Skye's part of the Theta protocol, not that she knows that yet. Mike will be, too, as soon as he's healed. I shouldn't have to ask you to keep quiet about this."

"Roger that, boss," Hunter said. Fitz and Jemma nodded.

"Pack," Coulson continued. "You'll need something for weekends."

* * *

Both Rhodey and Sam had nightmares about their respective military experiences and superhero hijinks. There was no point in repeating themselves, when so many of the dreams were the same. It didn't help when they started having nightmares about each other dying. But they learnt how to deal with it: bitch about each others' suicidally brave friends.

"I feel sorry for our third," Sam said, tightening his arm where it was clamped around Rhodey's waist. "Whoever it is, they'll have to be damn patient with us."

"I feel sorry for you. You help me a hell of a lot more than I can help you. Those vets are lucky guys."

"And gals. Not many of them, though. Either they're too embarrassed to come for help, or they deal with it much better."

"Or prefer female therapists," Rhodey said.

"True," Sam said. He rubbed his nose in the crook of Rhodey's neck, breathing deeply. "You smell good."

"Why d'you think Steve wants to see us tomorrow?"

"Ugh, you're so romantic sometimes."

"I'm still waking up. C'mon, Sam. You know Cap better than I do."

Sam sighed. "He said Fury had a surprise."

"Maybe we'll get boxes of chocolates for helping to the save the world," Rhodey said flippantly.

"_You_ saved the world, babe. I was stuck in America chasing a trail colder than Siberia."

"Aw." Rhodey poked him. "You've got brains as well as brawn, my little Sherlock Holmes."

"Little? Dude, which one of us is taller again?"

"By two inches!"

Sam chuckled. "It isn't size which counts, Rhodey."

"Asshole."

"You love me."

"I guess I do." Rhodey scowled at him, and then Sam put him out of his misery. "Love you, too."

The big surprise the next day was a shiny new Avengers facility, and The Falcon and War Machine being inducted into the Avengers along with Vision, Quicksilver, and Scarlet Witch. Sam and Rhodey grinned at each other as Steve said 'Avengers Assemble'.

"Ignoring the fact that we're already assembled," Sam said. He couldn't help himself, and it made Rhodey snigger. Steve just rolled his eyes.

"Got another surprise for you," Fury said, startling them all.

"What's that, sir?" Steve said, his teeth visibly clenched.

"I'm taking SHIELD back," he said. "There's been some confusion between the guy I appointed as director and someone else. So I'm reappointing my guy as your new handler. He was supposed to have the job originally, but…" He shrugged. "Anyway, he's back, good as new, and all yours. Along with his hand-picked support crew."

"Who?" Wanda asked, tensing. She obviously still had trust issues with strangers.

"You should've cleared it with me first," Steve said. Sam noticed how his hands clenched into fists. Good thing Steve kept his fingernails short, or he'd probably start bleeding. It'd heal up quickly enough, but bloodstains were a bitch to deal with.

"If you have any objections, I'll send him somewhere else," Fury said, his one eye opening wide. "I'm sure I can find another job for Coulson. Am I right, Phil?" he added, looking past the Avengers. They all turned around, and there was Phil Coulson, at least according to Fury. Rhodey's jaw dropped, and Sam glanced at him.

"Is it…?"

"Yeah," Rhodey said. "That's him."

"Hello, Colonel," Coulson said. "Nice to see you again."

"What the fuck is going on here?" Steve asked, glaring at Coulson, then at Fury.

"Language," Sam said. Steve grimaced.

"Knew I'd never live that one down," he muttered. "So much for trying to keep mission transcripts clean."

"I'll brief you on the manner of my resurrection later," Coulson said. Steve whirled around and gaped.

"What the fuck did you say?" he said.

"But right now, shouldn't you introduce me to your team, Captain Rogers? Unless you prefer to be Agent Rogers again?"

Steve stared at Coulson as he walked forward. There was red around the tips of Wanda's fingers, and Vision and Pietro were watching with expressions of mild interest.

"You were dead for five days, weren't you?" Steve murmured. Coulson's eyes widened and his shoulders tensed. "But… that's not possible."

"How did you know?" the agent said sharply. "That's classified intel. I mean, I was going to tell you at the brief, but there's no way you could've known, unless…" He looked past Steve. "Sir?"

"Don't look at me," Fury said. "But I do remember the soulmark you didn't have before we used Project TAHITI on you."

"…Oh. I guess I'd never seen enough of the captain's writing to recognise…" He cleared his throat. "That can wait. Won't you introduce me…" He swallowed. "Steve?"

Steve nodded quickly. "Yeah. Of course."

"I also didn't expect Captain America's soulmate to have a swear word in their soulmark."

"I'm _Steve Rogers_," he said. "Captain America is just an image."

"I'm not likely to forget that," Coulson said dryly. "The reminder is on my skin. Should I just guess everyone?"

"This is my soulmate, Sam Wilson," Rhodey said.

Coulson shook his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Sam. If you need any help with your search, just ask my hacker, Skye. Finding information is her forte."

"I am Vision," Vision said.

"I'm not used to hearing JARVIS's voice coming from an actual person. It's a pleasure, Vision. Do you have a title?"

"No."

"Fair enough. Miss and Mr. Maximoff?"

"Yes," Wanda said, though she didn't make a move to shake his hand. Pietro dashed to his side in a blur, however, and shook Coulson's hand enthusiastically.

"Clint and Natasha have spoken about you," he said. "When I was injured they kept me awake with stories of past missions. I look forward to working with you."

Coulson raised his eyebrows, but smiled. "Likewise, Mr. Maximoff."

"Now, if you'll excuse us," Steve said, and he moved to Coulson's side and grabbed his free hand. "I think a little pre-brief talk is in order between me and our new handler."

"You want me?" Coulson said. Steve opened his mouth. "No, sorry, that sounded… weird. As your handler? You want me to be your handler?"

"I don't think you have a choice, somehow," Rhodey said, but only Sam heard him, and snickered.

"Looks like you'll be in good hands, Phil," Fury said. "I'll herd your crew to the meeting room."

"Be there soon," Coulson said.

"Mind if we come with?" Sam said. "These two can talk here, then come find us when they're done."

Fury nodded, and so did Steve and Coulson. Vision followed Fury first, and the rest of them trailed after him like a straggling line of ducklings. Rhodey slipped his hand into Sam's, and walked close behind him. The reason became clear when he leaned in to speak directly into Sam's ear, the tease.

"Remember how hard it was to tear away from each other when we first met?" he whispered. "I think we'll have to come up with a way to pass the time while…" Sam glanced back, and Rhodey wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Yeah, but they've got actual history," Sam said. "Apparently Coulson's a fanboy. It might be awkward at first."

"Anything you wanna share with the class, WarCon?"

"What?" Rhodey said, staring at Fury, who smirked over his shoulder.

"Couple name I've heard about the place," he said. "_War_ Machine plus The Fal_con_."

"…People have too much time on their hands," Sam said.

"Here's the meeting room," Fury said, stopping in front of double doors. "Coulson's brought along some of his people. He might add more later, one in particular who's indisposed, but these are the ones he trusts the most. Which is saying something."

He pushed open the doors and ushered all five into the room. On the opposite side of the table was a line of four people, two guys and two girls. Fury gestured as he named each of them.

"Lance Hunter, field specialist," he said. "Skye, computer specialist. Leo Fitz, engineering specialist. Jemma Simmons, bioscience specialist."

"A lot of specialists," Pietro said.

"For some of us, it's just a fancy title," Skye said dismissively.

"You're the hacker Coulson mentioned," Sam said. She nodded. "If you've got a minute later, can I talk to you about a project I'm working on?"

"…Sure? I mean, yeah. Of course."

"If I have to introduce any of the Avengers to you, I'll start worrying about Coulson's ability to hold a briefing," Fury said. "He was one of the best."

"Don't worry, we were thoroughly briefed," the field specialist said. British. Huh. Was it possible…?

"Welcome to the new base," Rhodey said. The girl on the end, the bio-specialist, gasped.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, frowning at her. She shook her head, and the man next to her, the engineer, helped her into a seat. Vision and the twins began talking to Hunter and Skye, while Sam followed Rhodey to the scientist. She swallowed as her eyes trailed up Rhodey's body to his face.

"Oh my God," she breathed.

"Is there a problem, miss?"

She shook her head, and her gaze moved to Sam. "You're both bloody gorgeous."

Sam needed a seat himself then, and he met Rhodey's stunned look.

"A day of surprises," Sam said. He grinned at the woman. "All of `em good surprises, don't worry. And you're the best, soulmate."

"This explains a great deal," she said. "The both of you… just my type." She blushed.

"It's Jemma, isn't it?" Rhodey said. She nodded. "I'm James Rhodes, but just call me Rhodey."

"And I'm Sam Wilson," he said. "Everyone calls me Sam."

"I go by Jemma or Simmons," she said. She looked at the man behind her. "This is my best friend, Fitz."

"I'll leave you to it," Fitz said. Three of them were British. Between them, the twins, and Thor, it was definitely a multi-cultural place. Vision kinda counted as otherworldly. But now wasn't the time to be thinking about that. Sam picked up Jemma's hand and kissed it.

"If Coulson doesn't get here in five minutes, I say we blow this briefing and go get to know each other," he said.

"I second that," Rhodey said.

"Oh my," she said.

"Doesn't have to go beyond talk."

"Coulson still hasn't explained why we're here, and I need a clear head for that, so perhaps anything more can wait until another day?"

"The anticipation just makes it sweeter," Sam said. "Like you."

She ducked her head, still smiling and pink-cheeked. He and Rhodey could've gone on, but Coulson and Steve chose that moment to show up. Fury coughed, the first to notice that a flustered Coulson's tie wasn't as neat as before, and Steve looked incredibly smug.

"Time for a brief," he said. "And a debrief later, I hope." He gave Coulson doe eyes, and their handler walked into a chair.

"Sir!" Jemma said. "Look! I found my soulmates."

"Must be something in the air here," Coulson said dazedly.

"Apparently you took that feng shui book seriously," Fury said.

"That gag gift from five Christmases ago? I didn't factor it into the building's design at all."

"Must be something in the air, as you said. See you later." Fury shut the doors behind him, and Coulson looked over all of them, his cheeks turning a little red when he made eye contact with Steve. He cleared his throat, and walked around the table to the chair at the head.

"Has anyone else here found their soulmate among the other people in this room, or in fact the building?" he asked.

"No," Hunter said, arching his eyebrows.

"It's only a matter of time," Coulson muttered, and he sat down. "Let's get started."

Rhodey and Sam sat flanking Jemma, but respectfully didn't touch her. Her fingers were linked where her hands rested on the table. Forcing herself not to reach out to them? That was an interesting thought, and Sam caught Rhodey's eye.

If Jemma was amenable to a non-platonic relationship, they were gonna have a _lot _of fun with her.

* * *

**Lucky, lucky Jemma.**

**Jemma/Rhodey/Sam was suggested by ozhawk, though I'd already toyed a bit with the idea, because they ARE Jemma's type. And then somehow Capsicoul ended up in the story. People wanted some resolution to the other story, the one with Bruce and Fitz, so I gave a slightly more (implied) positive, uh, **_**discussion**_** between them. I tried to keep J/R/S to the front, though. It helped that the story was mainly from Sam's perspective.**

**I'd love this to happen, even though it's enormously unlikely. We probably won't get a fix-it, which I threw in because PIETRO SHOULDN'T HAVE DIED! *Sobs* And I didn't even cry because I expected him to come back to life. Not fair!**

…**Ehem.**

**Please review!**


	92. Visiting Hours (Bucky x Phil x Steve)

"Visiting Hours"

"Go on, get it out of your system."

How could he just stand there, calm, sounding like Phil Coulson, _looking_ like Phil Coulson, after _years_ of thinking… and saying…?

Steve got it out of his system, alright. He punched Coulson, harder than he meant to, but he already had the remnants of a slap-mark on his cheek and a bloody nose. Steve was furious, _furious_, that they'd been deceived again. As soon as someone had told him that Coulson was alive and upstairs, he'd come straight from the gym, knuckles already aching from another broken punching bag.

So he didn't exactly hold back the way he usually did with his team-mates. He didn't feel much satisfaction in the way the agent's head jerked back and he fell to the ground. Steve winced in sympathy when his head hit the table behind him, and he shut his eyes, fighting the urge to apologise when he had every right to be angry.

They thought Coulson was dead.

"Shit, Steve, what the _hell_ did you do?" Steve looked over and Clint and scowled.

"He lied to us."

"We all wanted to punch him, but most of us resisted the impulse."

"Get an ambulance," Natasha said. Steve frowned, and realised that Coulson wasn't moving. He'd knocked him out. Jesus.

"I… I didn't mean to…"

"Get him out of here, Thor, and make him wash his hands. Barnes is due back any minute now, and he's going to worry when he hears the sirens. God, Rogers, of all the times for you _not_ to hold back."

"Is he… okay?" _Dead_?

"He's still breathing, but I don't know what kind of head trauma he's sustained," she replied. "Thor, I mean it. Get him back to his quarters. Stark, send Barnes a message to tell him not to worry, there was an accident, that's all."

Thor ushered Steve out. He couldn't get the image out of his mind, the agent on the floor, eyes shut, nose crooked and bloodier than before, blood pooling beneath his head.

"Stark does not have our strength," Thor said on the elevator ride to Steve's floor. "Nor does Miss Potts. Clint and Lady Natasha held themselves back, and Banner left the room. I was sorely tempted, yet I knew my strength to be greater than a mortal's, and—"

"I shouldn't let my anger get the better of me," Steve said quietly. "He deserved better than that."

"For the deception?"

"For getting us all together in the first place. And for not signing his… his stupid trading cards. I was such a standoffish bastard when we met."

"You were confused," Thor said.

"No. It's because he was coming on too strong. That's still no excuse to…" He lowered his head, only looking up when the doors slid open at his level.

"Do you wish me to stay with you?"

"I'll be okay. I'm just gonna… wait here for Bucky. Let me know which hospital Coulson ends up at, okay?"

Thor nodded solemnly as the doors closed again. Steve went through to the bathroom and washed the blood from his hands. Both were already a little bloodied from the punching bag he'd torn through after finding out that Coulson was alive all this time. Bucky had already been out at a meeting, and Natasha was right; he was due back soon, so Steve waited. And remembered.

'_Go on, get it out of your system_'.

Those words were on the top of his left thigh. Only a medium grey at the moment, although the position suggested that the bond wasn't meant to be platonic. Where was Agent Coulson's corresponding soulmark? Was it grey, or was it the sharpest colour in the spectrum? Worse, did he even have one? Would Steve ever get a chance to speak to him, or would Coulson die before he could…?

No. He couldn't die. Bucky had the same writing, Steve had seen it. Unless, by some strange happenstance, Bucky and Coulson had already met, and just forgotten about it? Steve's best friend, his other soulmate, hadn't told him, but his memory was patchy at the best of times, thanks to HYDRA.

Steve… he couldn't let Coulson die. And he couldn't let him wake up alone. Quickly, he packed his bag while he was waiting for Bucky. JARVIS told him when the ambulance had departed, and then the moment Bucky stepped into the elevator to come upstairs. He hooked his shield over his back – always gotta be prepared – and smiled bitterly when Bucky walked into the room.

"You leaving me?" were Bucky's first words. Idiot. Of course he was gonna think that.

"I knocked out Agent Coulson," Steve said. "It's only right that I be there when he wakes up. I gotta make this right."

"Why would you punch him?" Bucky said. "In Tony's message… he said that you all thought Coulson was dead. Shouldn't you be happy? I know there's people we'd be happy to see if they turned out to be alive all along. Weren't you happy… to see me?"

"Yeah, of course I was," Steve said. "I was just… angry. I shouldn't've done it, and I wanna tell him so, soon as he wakes up."

"Tony said you were _all_ angry. I don't understand." Bucky looked and sounded increasingly upset, frustrated even. "You should be _happy_, shouldn't you? I thought that was something you were supposed to be happy about. That good people should be alive, not dead."

Shit. Bucky's 'masters' had always said it was good when he killed people who later turned out to be innocent. They'd been trying to make sure Bucky understood human reactions and emotions again, and now they were all setting that back. He'd have to apologise to Sam as well. And it was no good saying that something was complicated; the one time he'd tried that, Bucky had run away for three days, having convinced himself that he'd never be able to handle 'complicated' again.

"It _is_ good," Steve said. "We're angry because we didn't know."

"Oh. I understand that. Lack of knowledge is bad."

"He should've told us, and he didn't."

"Why not?"

"We don't know."

"Did you ask him?" Bucky pressed, his head cocked to the side.

"…I didn't give him a chance."

"I don't understand."

Steve huffed. "It was an irrational reaction based on emotion, Bucky. Irrational actions aren't meant to be understood."

"Oh."

"I…" He sighed. "I didn't meant to lose my temper. At you, or at Coulson."

"But you're leaving?"

"Just until I can tell him sorry. I need to say it; he needs to _hear_ it."

"Lemme know how it goes then, punk," Bucky mumbled. Steve kissed him gently, not touching his face. His hands still reeked of Coulson's blood to his super senses. They weren't fit to touch Bucky's sweet face.

"Love you," Steve said.

"Love you, too."

Clint glared at Steve when he rocked up at the hospital, shield on his back and bag in hand.

"What're you doing, skippin' out?" the archer said.

"Stayin' here `til Coulson wakes up," Steve replied.

"You're gonna be waitin' awhile, then, `cause he's in a coma."

Steve's bag fell, his heart with it. "What?"

"Stark's punch didn't help, but yours made him hit the table. There's bleeding, they think. Doing a scan now, but he's showing the signs of being comatose."

"Clint…"

He shook his head. "Don't, Rogers. You've done enough damage."

"I'm still gonna stay here, as long as it takes. Bucky knows that."

"Bet he doesn't know that it might be days or weeks, maybe forever. If they try to repair the damage they can, he could still flat-line on the table."

Steve felt sick to his stomach. "He wouldn't. He'll live."

"He's a fifty-one-year-old agent who's died once, and there's no more of that experimental drug to use on him. This time, if he dies? He's stayin' dead." He shook his head again, and Steve saw tears. "After we just got him back."

"Clint, I'm so sorry—"

"Don't! You have _no_ idea what it's like—"

"Actually," Steve said, drawing himself up, "I have a pretty _damn_ good idea what it's like, Barton."

"Yeah, but you didn't punch Barnes into a coma the minute you saw him," he said, the look in his eyes deadly. "Did you?"

"No, but that's…"

"You knew him a lot longer."

"It wasn't Bucky's fault! Coulson could've told us at any time, especially after SHIELD fell, and all the regulations with it."

"Oh yeah, the perfect reason to try killin' a guy," Clint said.

"I wasn't trying to—"

"Or was it that crush on you he really couldn't hide when you met? Are you that homophobic, Rogers?"

"I'm not… look at me an' Bucky!"

"Everyone knows it doesn't count `tween soulmates. Gay-bashing's an offence these days, did you know that?"

"Clint!"

"They'll have you thrown out in less than a minute," Natasha said. Steve turned.

"I want to be here," he said. "I told Bucky I'd be here. I hurt Coulson, so I'm gonna stay at his side until I can apologise. Make sure he's okay. It's the right thing to do."

"And God forbid Captain America remains in debt to anyone," Clint said, before stalking off. "Call me, Natasha."

"I will," she said, gaze never wavering from Steve's. "How else do you intend to make up for this?"

"Playin' it by ear, but whatever he needs me to do."

"Make sure you tell him that."

Steve nodded, and settled into a seat in the waiting room.

* * *

The world was hazy and sore and grey. A blur of indistinct shapes and discomfort. Phil tried to make a noise, and it felt like a huge effort. He coughed, but there was something in his mouth, blocking the way. Strong hands held him down, and he fought them instinctively. Someone shushed him, then called… a nurse? Was he in a hospital?

"Thank you, Mr. Rogers, we'll take it from here."

_My name isn't Mr. Rogers_, Phil thought dimly.

The second time, he recognised black clothes and red hair, and relaxed until his eyes focussed.

"Natasha," he said. His throat ached, but at least he could talk.

"You've been out for over a week. I'm sure Barnes will be glad to have Rogers home now." He squinted at her. "What do you remember?"

"Not much."

"Captain Rogers knocked you out. You've been in a coma. His guilt complex kicked into overdrive, and he hasn't left your side since half an hour after you were admitted. He even hovered outside the operating theatre."

"Huh."

"That's all you have to say?" she said.

"Tired. My head hurts."

"You were lucky he'd already been working his arms off. If he'd been fresh you'd probably be brain-dead, if not actually dead."

"Always look on the bright side of life," he sang tunelessly. Natasha cringed.

"Don't do that," she said. "You've only just returned to us, and we almost lost you again."

"But you didn't," Phil said, closing his eyes for a few seconds. "That's the main thing. So… he left?"

"The first time you woke up. You were thrashing around, so he called a nurse, but he didn't say anything to you." She snorted. "He was supposed to apologise to you."

"I screwed up," he said. "Should've told you sooner."

"He hit you!"

"So did Pepper and Stark."

"They don't have super strength, last time I checked."

"How… is everyone?"

"We're fine."

"No, no." He shook his head. "Team. My…"

Natasha lowered her eyes. "They've visited. There is always at least one of them. That one is asleep." Phil looked over to the other side. Skye was curled up in a chair, resting.

"When can I go home?" he asked.

"The doctors will assess you now that you're awake again."

"Sorry. For disappointing you."

"Try not to get yourself killed again," she said in a small voice. Phil half-smiled.

"Can't make any promises," he said. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being here when I woke up."

* * *

_Five weeks later_

"Patching you through," Skye said, hitting a few more buttons. Phil could never keep up with the speed of her fingers.

"Is that the Avengers?" he asked into the comm. unit.

"Hey, Agent, glad to have you join us," Iron Man said. "Mean ol' doctors finally let you out to play?"

"Can everyone hear me?" he said, tucking spare ammo into his pockets. He waved at the kids as he ran out the door.

"Roger that," Hawkeye replied.

"Loud and clear," the Black Widow said.

Phil was suspicious when Captain America didn't respond, and figured that he wanted to apologise in person. The cards were acceptable, but… well, Phil wanted to reassure him in person more than he wanted an apology.

"Captain Rogers?" he prodded.

"Mmm-hmm."

"Good to know you're alive. Where do you need me?"

"Ah… Bucky, what do you think?"

Phil raised his eyebrows, pausing mid-step.

"Got your position," Iron Man said, flying overhead. Phil signalled to him. "Barnes, you're the closest. I'm just above him. Can you see me?"

"I see you," Hawkeye said.

"I see you, too, Iron Man," Barnes said. "Agent, go two blocks east, and I'll meet you there."

Phil was already running when the words registered. He heard the captain swear over the comms, and nearly tripped over a manhole cover.

"Did you really just say that to me?" he said incredulously. He picked up his pace, and saw the Winter Soldier go still in the middle of the road up ahead. "Barnes, look out!"

The Winter Soldier rolled out of the way of a barrage of gunfire, and Phil leapt behind a car to avoid it himself.

"What the hell is going on?" Iron Man said.

"I think we'd all like to know," Skye piped up.

"Skye—"

"I hooked you up to the comms, DC. You didn't think I wasn't gonna listen in, did you?"

"To return to my original question," Iron Man said, sounding almost prissy, "what the hell is going on?"

"We're your soulmates, Phil," Captain America said.

There was a drop in conversation. It didn't help that the HYDRA agents were gaining the upper hand as the rest of them fought this distraction.

"We're talkin' about this later, Steven," Barnes said. He sounded well and truly pissed off. "No more personal chatter on the comms."

"Understood, sergeant," Phil said. A close bullet snapped him out of it, and he concentrated on the rest of the battle, shoving the thought of oh-God-_soulmates_ to the back of his mind.

He was so successful that as soon as the remaining HYDRA agents had been taken in by the army – thank you, Talbot – he went off to debrief his people. It was such a small group that he still had trouble thinking of them as SHIELD when they were in the field like this. He did wonder why they kept glancing at each other and then giving him strange looks during the debriefing, until Skye cleared her throat at the end.

"Aren't you gonna go talk to your soulmates now?" she asked. Phil froze.

"I… I don't know," he said. "Captain Rogers obviously knew. He hasn't mentioned it, so it's clear that he isn't interested… he didn't even want me to know. But… I have the words. Barnes must have them as well. We were going to meet eventually."

"Asshole," Skye said. "I looked up to him when I was a kid."

"So did I," Phil said softly. "Uh… I don't think I will. Meet them, I mean. I'll give them the time they need, and if… if they want to see me, they can come find me. I have more pressing matters to worry about."

"Phil," May said.

"Don't give me that look. I only got my soulmarks after I was… brought back. I wasn't expecting my soulmates to be… grown men, born half a century before me."

"What colour are your marks?" Simmons asked.

"Last time I checked, one is darker grey, and the other is light grey."

"Which is which?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Classified. If you'll excuse me, I'll be in my office."

* * *

Bucky hadn't actually said anything to Steve yet. He sat across the small dining table in their apartment in Stark Tower, silently fuming over a bowl of homemade pasta and meatballs, with sauce Steve had made himself. If anything could loosen Bucky, it was Italian food. Not tonight, apparently.

"I'm—"

"Don't fucking say you're sorry again, Steve."

"I panicked!"

"He said your words and then you put him in a _coma_." Bucky's cutlery was bending in his tense grip. "Then he woke up and you didn't say anything to him. And you never thought to tell _me_ that you'd found our third. Dontcha think I would-a liked to know? He's my soulmate, too!"

"I _know_ there's no excuse, but… damn it, I've barely got you back! Then the time to tell you never seemed right, and it kept going on longer and longer, and I knew you'd only be angrier when you found out. And of course you'd find out, you had words, too. But I didn't wanna lose you! I already lost my chance with him, and… you'd hate me for keeping it secret for so long."

"Shit, you really think I could hate you, you runt? After all those years together?"

"_I_ hate me for this, Bucky!"

"And maybe now you can relate to how he must've felt when he came to tell all of you that he was alive."

Steve reeled back, feeling like he'd been slapped. He had been, verbally. Bucky was right. And he'd only kept the secret… barely two months. Coulson had managed to keep his for three years, and had more reason to feel trepidation than Steve. Soulmateship was a big thing, but it couldn't be denied that being brought back to life was major as well, more so if he thought about it.

"I messed up," he said.

"I'm gonna get to know Director Coulson," Bucky said, pushing his plate away and standing up. "He deserves that much. I know I'm the Winter Soldier, but I'm also his soulmate, and I'm not standin' in the way of Fate. He's already gonna think that you hate `im, that that's why you didn't say anythin' about it to either of us. He'll need some reassurance."

"Bucky—"

"I can't… talk to you anymore. Not right now. I'm too… I'm _furious_ with you, Steve."

Steve bowed his head. "I understand. I'll clean up. You go call Coulson."

Bucky nodded shortly, and left the room. Steve buried his face in his hands, and tried to figure out how to fix everything he'd ruined.

* * *

Phil was slumped over his desk, listless and miserable. Since the day he realised that he finally had soulmarks, he'd assumed that they would be platonic (and that he would be working for SHIELD for at least another twenty years). Until after he discovered that he'd been dead for five days. Long enough to cancel old soulmarks – not that he'd had any before – and to be considered reborn. It was possible that his soulmates were already living, among the small percentage of those called Blanks. Phil had been one of them, once upon a time. No more.

But now… he may as well be for all the hope he held.

There was a knock at the door. He didn't bother looking up.

"Come in!" he called, and he went back to sulking. (Not that he was sulking. Directors of SHIELD didn't sulk.)

"Uh, Agent Coulson?"

Phil sat up straight with a jerk. "S-sergeant Barnes."

"No. Call me Bucky."

"If you like."

"Can I call you Phil?"

He smiled. "If you like," he repeated. "Take a seat."

Bucky sat down opposite him, his brow furrowed. "Steve didn't tell me that you were… are our third."

"It isn't compulsory," Phil said. "I feel obligated to point that out to you."

"You don't… want us?"

"I've wanted you all my life. I mean… damn it, that sounded creepy. I'm sorry. But of course I want my soulmates. But you have the option of re… rejecting me."

"I don't want to!"

Phil's smile grew, and he reached across the desk to take Bucky's hands in his. "I'm glad. But it's up to Captain Rogers as well."

"Steve."

"Steve. It's up to him, too."

"As far as I'm concerned, he has no say in this," Bucky said angrily.

"That's not how it works," Phil said, stroking Bucky's fingers gently. "You two are already together. It _is_ supposed to be a joint decision. Otherwise…"

"Otherwise?"

Phil sucked in a breath slowly. "Do you want to risk being accused of infidelity?"

Bucky looked down at their hands, chewing his lower lip. "Can I kiss you? To see whether…"

"We're compatible?"

"Yes."

"Of course." Phil blushed at how quickly he replied, but Bucky's suddenly playful smile as he rounded the desk made Phil recall his reputation as a ladies' man. He wasn't sure how accurate the stories were, but he could see Bucky's potential as a heart-breaker, and hoped that he wouldn't fall victim to that.

"Stay there," Bucky said, putting a hand on Phil's chest when he made to stand up. Then, to Phil's everlasting surprise, Bucky perched on his lap and leaned in. "Like this?"

"However you want it," Phil whispered.

"I… I've only kissed Steve since I… got better."

Phil shook his head. "Doesn't matter to me. Come here."

He cupped the back of Bucky's neck and pulled him closer. Bucky closed the remaining distance, ducking his head and meeting Phil's lips. Phil tried to keep it chaste, desperate not to overwhelm the Winter Soldier, but it was no use. Either Bucky still remembered something or Steve was a good teacher or… whatever it was, he became almost fierce as he deepened the kiss, moaning quietly when their tongues met. Phil was breathless by the time they parted, and yearned for another taste. Bucky had to put a hand on his chest to stop him, and Phil apologised.

"I'd say we're compatible, wouldn't you?" Bucky remarked. Phil rolled his eyes.

"You think?" he said.

"My mark is on my back. Where's yours?"

"Here," Phil said, placing one of Bucky's hands over his chest, where his heart was. "It goes around my scar.

"Phil." Bucky leaned down and kissed Phil's nose. "Can I court you?"

"Shouldn't you—"

"All three of us are soulmates. I'm not gonna reject you, whether Steve likes it or not. And it's not infidelity to be with your soulmate unless you're married to someone who isn't… is it?"

"Not really," Phil said, stroking Bucky's sides. "It can be argued either way, but it nearly always comes down to soulmateship, and personal opinions on the subject."

"I really wanna keep kissing you," Bucky said softly. "I… I love Steve, and I don't think I could ever stop."

"You _shouldn't_ stop, and I'd never ask you to, Bucky."

"But he _kept_ this from us. I don't understand. He was… he was supposed to apologise when you woke up in hospital. He stayed there all those days, not leaving the room once, and not sayin' anything to you, from what I hear."

"Maybe he didn't want me to miss him saying the words," Phil mused.

"Then why'd he leave?"

"Fear? He put his soulmate in a coma, after all. Maybe he thought I'd reject him based on that, and wanted to give me time to cool off."

"It's been over a month!"

"And I can understand wanting to delay unpleasant tasks," Phil said. "I have him beat in that regard, when you think about it."

"You've been busy," Bucky mumbled.

"And so has Steve."

"So busy that he couldn't tell me you were our third? It'd take a lot less time to explain than you telling everyone that you were alive, and how."

Phil blanched. "Not the best week of my life, or however long it was."

"You don't know?" Bucky said.

"May won't let me go back in the memory machine to find out. Considering it nearly sent me crazy last time… she may have a point."

"Sensible lady."

"You'll like her."

"If she's your friend, I know I will."

* * *

Bucky didn't return until the next morning, and Steve was prepared to lose him. Well, not prepared, he could never be prepared for that, but he sure as hell was expecting it. Bucky's solemn expression when he entered the lounge in their apartment did nothing to reassure him, especially when he pointed at Steve.

"You got a _lotta_ making up to do," he said. "Starting with Phil. Flowers. I know his favourites now, but don't expect me to feed you all the inside information. You're gonna work for this if you want both of us, is that clear?"

"A-absolutely, Buck."

"Because he doesn't want me to just leave you high an' dry, even though I'm real tempted to."

"And I wouldn't blame you at all, Bu—"

"Shut up an' lemme finish! You're also gonna write to him. If you want me to read `em first, I will, t' make sure you don't put your big damn foot in it again." Steve nodded, wide-eyed. "Not trustin' you over the phone or anythin', not yet. I don't think he's so keen on the idea, either. Just `cause the pain's no longer there doesn't mean the memories aren't. Or lack of `em." His face was haunted as he said this, and Steve knew that Bucky was thinking back over his own experiences. Steve had done this to him.

"Whatever you want me to do, Bucky, you know I'll do it," he said. "For you and Coul… for Phil."

"Damn right you are. He's a swell guy, and I'm not lettin' him go."

"I wouldn't ask you to—"

"So start with flowers an' a letter. Or an email, I guess. Just don't write anythin' stupid."

Steve nodded, biting his tongue so he wouldn't make the same mistake with Bucky.

"An' maybe…" Bucky trailed off, and glanced over his shoulder. "Send `im a nice drawing. I think he'd like that."

"I'm sure you're right," Steve said quickly. Bucky half-smiled, a positive sign, and then walked out.

Steve didn't let this get him down. He immediately started making notes in his head of what he could say, what he could draw, what he could put on the note to go with the flowers, whether Coulson… _Phil_ liked chocolates. He liked Captain America stuff, but that would probably be awkward for everyone involved, and Bucky would frown and make Steve feel about two inches tall, so he dismissed that idea. He guessed… he really _didn't_ know much about their third.

That would have to change.

* * *

Phil really wasn't expecting flowers.

He and Bucky had talked for about five hours before snuggling on the sofa together and falling asleep like that. Skye had taken a picture and left two printed copies beside them, so they could have one each. Bucky's face had brightened so much that Phil didn't risk saying that he didn't have to take it if he didn't want to. Before returning to the tower, Bucky had pecked him on the cheek, leaving Phil flushed and flustered as he waved farewell. Then he forced Skye to remove any and all footage of the two of them together. For security reasons. Naturally.

The point is, he'd forgotten most of what he'd said to Bucky but remembered everything his soulmate had told him. Clearly he confessed his favourite flowers, and Bucky had remembered. With a small smile, he read the note attached to them. His smile froze.

'Phil, I'm sorry. I was stupid because I was scared. Don't write me off yet? Steve.'

He sighed. It was sweet, and Bucky was obviously on Steve's side. Understandable, considering that they'd been together for a long time, and Phil had only recently entered the picture. Still, he couldn't help but feel the pinch of betrayal. One of the things he remembered was telling Bucky that it hurt doubly to be rejected by Steve, not just because they were soulmates, but because Steve was a man Phil had looked up to for a long time. Yes, he idolised Captain America, but Steve Rogers was the brave man who'd fought his way into the army, undergone a torturous procedure to have the chance to serve his country, and lost everything and everyone he held dear when he 'died' saving the world. He'd gone on fighting only a few weeks after being dumped in a completely different century, and continued to fight after discovering that HYDRA was alive and strong, and that they'd had his best friend and soulmate as a prisoner in his own body for seventy years. He was an incredible man worthy of respect, and Phil had felt about two inches tall when he realised that Steve had kept their soulmateship secret.

"His loss," Bucky had said. Now Phil wasn't so sure. Was Bucky serious about being ready to choose Phil over Steve if he said the word, or was he only interested in completing their triad? Assuming Steve would even wanted to bond with him. Hell, Phil was shocked that Bucky was in favour of it, considering the positions of their soulmarks.

He remembered Bucky's metal finger sending shivers down his spine as he traced the letters of his mark on Phil. He'd started to apologise, but Phil had shut him up by kissing the tip of each finger and thumb. In return, Bucky had kissed along the horrible scar in the middle of the mark.

"Wish I could fight all your demons for you," Bucky murmured.

"Or demi-god, in this case," Phil said, somehow still coherent.

He shifted in his chair, willing away his reaction and trying to concentrate on the beautiful flower arrangement from Steve. And the note in the same writing that was on the back of his left thigh. He hadn't just ordered over the phone or the internet; he must've gone to an actual florist and written the note himself. Not a huge deal, really, but he hadn't taken the easy way. It was more romantic.

Despite his reservations, Phil smiled.

"Okay," he said. "I won't write you off just yet, Steve Rogers. But don't ever bug me again if you want to regain my trust."

He plucked the tiny microphone out of the middle of the arrangement. A plant in a plant. Cute. Was he meant to find it? Well, it amused him, so if that was Steve's goal, he'd attained it.

* * *

One month later, Phil was trying not to knock over the things on his dresser as he got ready for his dinner date.

He received at least two presents a week from Bucky and Steve, sometimes together, sometimes separately. The newsy and inquiring emails from Steve swung between stiff formality and barely-restrained eagerness. Or desperation, depending on which way you looked at it. Bucky, on the other hand, had a tendency to get small talk out of the way quickly, then move on to a more romantic note, with the second half of the email or letter ending in descriptions of what he wanted to do to Phil when they finally bonded. The phone calls from Bucky were even worse, and on a couple of occasions would've descended into phone sex if they weren't interrupted. (Phil was starting to suspect a conspiracy among his kids.)

Bucky's rampant libido was explained when Phil realised that he was possibly withholding sex from Steve as punishment. It'd be a hell of a punishment, and Phil made a mental note never to piss off Bucky Barnes if he ever wanted to see him naked. He'd settle for semi-naked. Or maybe Bucky had super stamina? (An idea he had to put out of his head _before_ the next mission briefing.) If that was the case, Steve would be able to keep up, so it was probably forced abstinence which explained the increasingly romantic tone to Steve's emails.

"Fine," he said one day, starting a new email to both of them. "I'll call you after our mission to let you know when I'm available."

Which led to tonight's dinner. The team was there to wave him off.

"Don't worry!" Simmons called. "I'm sure Agent May will take good care of us!"

She'd probably gag them and duct tape them to chairs as a 'training exercise', in reality just to give her some peace and quiet while Phil was out.

"Behave yourself, Dad!" Skye added. "And don't forget curfew!"

"Don't bond with them on the first date, or you'll just look cheap!" Great. Now Fitz was getting in on the act. Phil noticed that May was trying not to laugh, which was terrifying, so he put Lola into gear and drove off.

When he finally reached the restaurant, he had to stay in the car for ten seconds to cool off after spotting his soulmates. Yes, Phil had an array of different suits, including the black tie they'd requested tonight, and yes, he _should've_ expected that his… not his, _the_ two super soldiers would look great in anything they wore, but _shit_, they looked more handsome than his imagination had conjured up. He waited for his legs to feel steady before climbing out of his car. He met Bucky and Steve at the door, and tried not to feel small and plain next to them. Considering the way Bucky was devouring him with his eyes, it was possible he didn't have anything to worry about.

"If I was a bond-on-the-first-date kinda guy, I'd say let's go home and bond right now," Bucky said. "Hell, you look better than I imagined. I'm torn, `cause I also wanna peel you out of those—"

"Bucky," Phil said, his cheeks growing warmer. "Should we head inside?"

"Good thing we're eating in public, or I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off—"

"You look wonderful, Phil," Steve said sincerely.

"Thank you. I… I couldn't get out of my car right away. Good thing I parked before noticing the two of you, or I probably would've crashed."

"That good, hmm?" Bucky asked, looking at Phil from beneath his eyelashes. That wasn't fair.

"Yeah," Phil said softly. "That good."

"Let's get inside," Steve said. "Come on. It'll be warmer."

* * *

"D'you think he'll hold out until the third date, at least?" Fitz said. "He should. After what happened…"

"Captain Rogers has been trying to make it up to Coulson," Simmons said.

"Yeah, but we all saw what a mess he was until Barnes showed up and spent the night," Skye pointed out. "Besides, Coulson's a traditionalist. He'll go through all the declarations and stuff first."

"I think it's lovely," Simmons said.

As they argued, May crept up on them, holding knockout spray and duct tape behind her back. Suppressing a smile, she cleared her throat, and all three jumped in the air. That just made it harder to keep a straight face.

"How about a training exercise?" she asked.

* * *

**I'm evil. But then I think you already knew that. ;)**

**So! I've been sitting on this idea – and this chapter – for awhile now. Then Warrior2014 requested the ship, which gave me extra incentive to move my tail and finished the darn thing. Hope it didn't suck.**

**Please review!**

**Edit: Lady Saphire also requested this ship. I missed that in my document where I've been noting down all the requests, so I apologise, Lady Saphire.**


	93. A Grave Matter (May x Sam)

**Note: Non-canon from some point in season two, though season two characters aren't mentioned. No spoilers for 'Ultron' or the latest episodes of 'AoS'.**

"A Grave Matter"

May was fighting back tears as she searched Phil's office. She knew he had a paper will, possibly more than just that, ever since SHIELD fell and their digital records had to be destroyed. And she needed to know if he had any preferences for his funeral. The first time he'd died, Fury hadn't even buried him; the whole thing was fake. He'd had time to come up with what he really wanted, if it was at all possible. Maybe even…

"You practical bastard," she whispered, finally locating a pair of large, padded envelopes in the draw of his desk. One said 'If I die on the run' and one said 'If there's time for a funeral'. She opened both of them anyway; where was the harm? Not like he was there to stop her.

Blinking away the moisture, she flicked through the first envelope. The will listed her as the prime executor, followed by Maria, and then Fury (if he was contactable). Last of all was Pepper Potts, in case anything happened to the rest of them. She was most likely to be safe, after all, and they'd been friends. He'd left the most basic instructions regarding divisions of his estate, but it was mostly left in May's hands. There was a DVD labelled 'For the original Avengers', along with an envelope to send it. There was also a letter stating that if they were able to recover his body, they had to burn it so that it wouldn't be a burden, nor leave a trace of his DNA. It nearly broke her.

Then she opened the second envelope. There was a more detailed will, with the same list of preferred executors, as well as a business card for the law firm his family had dealt with since his childhood. There was another DVD, also addressed to the Avengers and accompanied by an envelope with up-to-date postage. In another note – one addressed 'To my executor' – he requested that they make use of his fake grave to stow his body, although he advised that it be done under the cover of darkness. And that 'the kids' had permission to run off anyone trying to hold a witches' gathering or desecrate graves in the cemetery. "Wish I could be there to see it," he wrote.

May shoved all of it aside and rested her trembling, folded hands on the desk top.

And allowed herself to grieve for her lost friend.

* * *

Skye sniffled, placing her hand on the body bag for the umpteenth time, hoping for a heartbeat. Still nothing. She should've known better, but…

"He wouldn't want you to obsess over this," Simmons said, touching her shoulder. "He knew that after the life you've had, and everything we've dealt with, that a clean break would be best."

"He's definitely—"

"Dead. Yes. I performed the autopsy myself, and then stitched him back together after removing the bullets. It's been two days, Skye."

"M-May said we're going to Stark Tower?"

"Well… not _all_ of us."

Skye's heart fell. "Because it's a skyscraper, and I can barely be trusted in this base."

"It's upsetting enough. You had such a good handle on your powers—"

"Until he died and left us all behind!" Skye wiped away her tears furiously. "I've tried to jumpstart his heart so many times—"

"He was fortunate enough not to sustain permanent brain damage the first time around."

"Why'd he have to die?" she whispered. "Jemma, why—"

"I don't know." Now she was crying as well. "Skye, please." She hugged her close.

"W-what do we do?"

"Whatever May tells us to. She's the director now, but she's going to follow his last wishes, and we must respect them. I-it's what he wanted."

"I don't think I could've handled it if we'd had to cremate him," Skye said. "This way, I can keep telling myself that he could wake up. He could still…"

Simmons shook her head. "I already thought of that, taking the alien blood into account, but… I don't believe he'll wake up again."

* * *

Hill hadn't heard, apparently, because she was all smiles – as much as Maria Hill ever smiled – as she let May into the main area of Stark Tower.

"Agent May?" Barton said, staring at her. "Never thought I'd see you again. After HYDRA…"

"Do you really think they could take me down?" she asked.

"That's why they call you The Cavalry," Romanov said, smiling at her.

"Don't call me that," May said, and she swallowed. "I have something for the original Avengers."

"What's that?" Hill asked.

"It's from…" She gave Hill a significant look. The woman's eyes widened, and flicked to the elevator. May shook her head, and pulled the DVD out of her jacket.

"Who's it from?" Stark said, poking his head around the corner. "DVD? Seriously?"

"Want to watch it or not?" she asked sharply. He raised his eyebrows, but took it from her, and fed it into a DVD player which had come out of nowhere.

"What is it?" Hill murmured as they all gathered around to watch.

"A video from Phil," May said. Her throat felt thick, and she steadfastly didn't look at Hill.

His face filled the large screen, and the original Avengers all reacted with shouts, before turning to look at her. Someone had paused the video before Phil could even speak.

"Fury brought him back to life," she said. "Watch the video and he'll explain how."

"I should've known SHIELD would keep something like this from us!" Rogers said angrily, his hands balled into fists. "Don't tell me it still exists?"

"It's been rebuilt," she said. "Coulson was appointed director by Fury himself." She dug her fingernails into her palms, grateful she hadn't brought Skye along.

"And he didn't have the guts to face us himself?" Stark said. May took a step towards him, and he flinched back.

"Don't you dare!" she hissed. "Just. Watch. The video."

They restarted it, and Phil's image began to talk.

"_I know you have questions_," he said. "_I kept the files about my resurrection here_," he tapped his desk, "_so that I won't miss anything. I was dead for five days after Loki stabbed me… but maybe I should start with the TAHITI Protocol. It was designed to revive a fallen Avenger, and the first time it was used which wasn't as a test… was on me. I still don't understand why Fury wasted it like that_."

He went on, using the paper files he had to hand, outlining everything which had happened, including what he'd remembered thanks to Raina's memory machine. His experiences with the alien writing since then, and his fear that he was going mad.

"_I've given instructions that if I lose it completely, May is to take me down_," he continued. "_She won't let me talk about it yet, but I have my contingency plans. If she won't agree to it, I'm hoping someone else will._" So this must've been made a long time back, before they discovered the meaning of the writing. "_The reason I haven't approached you is because you have no reason to trust SHIELD, and you'd be even less trusting if you knew that this had been kept from you for so long. I know…_" Here, his voice broke for a moment, and he visibly swallowed, his hands tensing on the desk in front of him. "_That you won't miss me. If I'd told you myself, face-to-face, I suspect there would've been yelling, and I couldn't face… you hating me._" He blinked rapidly, and May felt a lump in her throat. "_I'm sorry it had to be like this. I don't expect you to help New SHIELD, at all, or to trust us. But I've been making the calls since Fury put me in charge, so don't blame my team, or anyone else who's kept this secret from you. It was for the best. I… just wanted to explain. And say that I'm proud of you for saving the world. I won't see you again, so it was important to let you know._"

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and then hit the stop button. The screen went black, and May realised that her arms were crossed, and that she was digging her nails into her elbows.

"Like hell are we not seeing him again!" Barton said, and he turned his head to scowl at May. "He's not getting away with it that easily."

"Bring him here," Stark said. "Like Robin Hood said, he's not getting out of it like that."

"What on Midgard made him think this an appropriate way to reveal that he is alive?" Thor asked.

"Phil shouldn't have done it this way," Hill said. "Where _is_ he?" May just looked at her, tears starting to fill her eyes again, and Hill's jaw dropped. "No." May nodded. "Oh… oh _no_. He can't be…"

"Three days ago," May said softly. "This was in the same envelope as… as his will."

Everyone else was quiet. Tears began to fall down Hill's cheeks. The standing Avengers sank down again.

"Why didn't he come sooner?" Romanov asked. She wasn't looking at them, but May knew the question was directed at her.

"Think about how you all reacted when you found out he was alive," she said. "You were all ready to start reprimanding him, say a lot of things which you _know_ would hurt him because you were angry. And you'd never trust him, or SHIELD, again, and I think that would hurt him just as much, if not more. When he made that recording, he really thought he was going insane. I wouldn't have put him down, but he didn't know that."

"What happened to him?" Hill asked.

"We took on a HYDRA base. He was protecting FitzSimmons when a super came along, part of their security team. He tried to bring the woman in quietly, but she was… probably brainwashed. We'll never know. Skye managed to bring the building down on her, but only after she'd shot Phil three times. Simmons couldn't save him, but she put him back together. We're going to bury him tonight."

"We'll help," Rogers said. May's hackles rose.

"You still don't trust us," she said. "Phil would be disappointed, but unsurprised."

"It's not that. We can help you."

"We don't need your help!" she snapped. "He never expected it, and I'm not going to, either."

She stalked out without waiting for a reply, and took the elevator straight to the ground floor. She hadn't cried since Bahrain. Phil had held her then; this time, he was the cause of her grief.

As soon as the doors opened, she hurried out, bumping into someone on the way. He steadied her when she nearly fell.

"Sorry, ma'am, I hope you're okay… hang on, sit down."

The words were vaguely familiar but the voice wasn't. Nonetheless, she allowed him to lead her to a chair in the lobby, and he sat beside her. He squeezed her hand, and she wiped off the worst of the tears before glancing at him. As she focussed, he went from a green and brown blur to a handsome man wearing a green shirt, giving his full attention.

"If you need to talk, I can help," he said. "I'm a counsellor."

She thought back over his previous words while trying to think of how to tell him that she was fine, she just needed to get back to work, that the last thing she needed was a reminder of her ex … and realised why the words were familiar. She chuckled, something else she hadn't done in a long time, before looking at him shyly.

"I must have a type," she murmured. "This explains my ex-husband."

Probably not the best words to have, but his eyes widened, and she exhaled in relief.

"Still an _ex_?" he said.

"If you're asking whether I'm single, the answer is yes."

"Not anymore, it isn't," he said, lifting one of her hands to his lips. "Sam Wilson, at your service. I'm hoping that since I'm your type, you wouldn't say no to a non-platonic bond. When you're ready."

She nodded. "I wouldn't say no. But I'm mourning a friend I lost a few days ago, so it's… I don't usually cry."

"Crying is healthy. That's a medically proven fact, I'll have you know."

"I'm usually stronger than this—"

"And I work with army vets," he said. "I work with the strongest people you'll ever meet, who need the help they're sometimes too proud to ask for."

She laid her other hand over his. "Thank you."

"What's your name, Mulan?"

She gave him a withering glare. "Melinda May. I'm… the new director of SHIELD."

"SHIELD? Is that why you're here?"

"The previous director just died. Phil Coulson. I was delivering a last message for him."

"Sounds like you need some quiet time. You like ice cream? I know a great place around the corner. There are booths. We can sit. Talk, if you want to."

"I don't talk much."

"You're doing fine right now."

She swallowed. "Phil used to know exactly what I was saying just from one look."

"Did you… love him?"

"Not like that. But we were close friends for years."

"…You never answered my question."

She half-smiled at him. "I do like ice cream."

"Alright, then. Let's go get some. My treat."

May texted the team to tell them that she'd met her soulmate, and was getting to know him over ice cream. They'd probably think she was using code, and would likely spend at least an hour trying to work out what it meant. If it kept their minds off the unofficial funeral tonight, even better.

For an hour, she talked herself nearly hoarse, only pausing for bites of ice cream or sips of soda. Sam was an excellent listener, mainly providing support, and prompting her to talk about other things when it got too hard to talk about Phil, and what had led to her divorce. When she ran out of things to say, Sam told her about himself, his work in the army, at the centre, and with the Avengers. She invited him back to the base, and he agreed.

"I'm just sorry we met under sad circumstances," he said as they walked along, hand in hand. "Not the best first meeting we could've had."

"Based on my words, I've imagined many different scenarios," she said. "I never imagined that one, but at least you hadn't just run me over with a motorcycle."

"At least you specified that he was your ex-husband, or I would've lost all hope years ago."

"You're not disappointed?"

"Hell no! You're the kind of woman I'd hit on in a bar, just in case you turned out to be my soulmate. More beautiful than I'd imagined…" She smiled as he grinned down at her, leaning into his side.

"I fly," she said. "The plane."

"And I'm para-rescue with my own wings," he said. "I'll have to take you flying sometime."

"I'm already looking forward to it," she said.

* * *

Somehow, she'd been roped into letting New SHIELD stay with the Avengers. She kept telling herself it wasn't for long, that they'd leave as soon as they could; but it was now two days on, and Stark was making plans to accommodate all of them. When she asked, he muttered something about 'making it up to Agent-Agent, the secretive asshole', and she figured that guilt really was the cheapest way to get someone to do what you wanted them to, even though she didn't want this.

But Sam was staying with the Avengers when he wasn't looking for Bucky Barnes, and May wanted to spend time with her soulmate. It didn't help that Stark and Fitz turned out to be soulmates, and Banner and Simmons as well. When Skye turned out to be Pepper Potts' soulmate, May just threw her hands up in despair (metaphorically) and agreed that they could stay indefinitely.

But they were interrupted during their first movie night when JARVIS paused the film to show them footage of someone yelling at the camera out the front. A man in a hoodie with a metal…

"It's Bucky," Steve said. He and Sam vaulted out of their chairs, Sam apologising to May, but there was no need. She ran after him, along with half the others, and they all travelled down to the ground floor. Bucky was let in, and ran straight into Steve.

"Soulmark," he said, shaking as he pulled open his hoodie and yanked up his shirt. "You have to help. Please."

"What does it say?" Steve asked, bending over to read it. He inhaled sharply.

"What?" Sam said. Steve glanced at May.

"It says 'I just climbed out of my own grave'," he said.

May leapt to his side and read the mark for herself. But she didn't care about the words, not when she saw the writing.

"It's Phil's," she said. "He… but he was dead. Simmons performed an autopsy."

"It's that GH formula," Sam said. "Has to be."

"Where?" Bucky said frantically. "What grave?"

"JARVIS!" Steve said. "We need spades. Get Tony and Thor to go ahead and clear the area. I'll grab the spades and meet them there."

"I'll take Melinda," Sam said.

"I want to go, too," Bucky said, even though his sides were clearly heaving.

"You rest here," Steve said. "We'll bring him back to you."

"I want to help!"

"You're having trouble standing, Bucky! The others will look after you, and we'll bring Phil safely back to you, okay?"

He looked like he wanted to argue, but May and Sam were already at the elevator. They caught it straight to their floor, and Sam went for his wing-pack. Stark and Fitz were working on one for her, but for now she had to fly with her soulmate. The shovels were down in the garage, where Steve's bike was, so it was easier for him to grab them, leaving the rest to fly straight to the graveyard and find Phil's marker.

* * *

Phil had slept in worse places. He wasn't claustrophobic, and while he was surrounded by wood, he was on some kind of padding, so at least he wasn't on a concrete floor. Sure, he wasn't used to a place _this_ small, but some of the things he'd had to do as a SHIELD agent…

Well, there seemed to be just enough room to roll onto his side. He shifted, his shoulder bumping against the top of the crate, and noticed the weird angle of the wood near his head as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Then he felt something itching on his stomach, and tried to look up. He hit his head instead, and swore quietly. He couldn't even remember why he was hiding in a padded crate, nor why he'd be itchy. Was there a spider? Wait, no. No thinking of creepy crawlies, or he'd start to feel them everywhere, and he'd already made far too much noise. If he wasn't careful, he'd alert… whoever.

Why did he get the feeling he was too enclosed? There had to be some sort of airhole. Had he passed out because he'd run out of air? No, or he'd still be out, possibly dead.

…Dead.

The… the last thing he remembered was a woman shooting him. He… he remembered blood, so much blood, his own…

Weirdly-shaped box. Not enough air. Padding.

Trying not to panic, he reached down to where he was itchy. Touching the spot reduced the impulse to scratch, and he felt… not calm. In fact, it was almost a ghost panic. Was this what it was supposed to feel like if you touched your soulmark?

Soulmark. Shit. This… was typical of the way his life had been going. He scrunched his hands into fists and hit the sides of the box. Dust was dislodged from the edges.

Not dust. Earth. He was underground, six feet under, most likely. And no one would know that he was here. How long had he been… dead?

It couldn't have been that long, or he'd be more decayed. Not that he could see, and he probably hadn't been buried with a phone. Just in case, he patted his pockets, prodded the places he'd been shot and found they were still tender and sore. He couldn't move as much as he'd thought, and wondered whether the illusion of the space growing smaller really was just an illusion.

He was alive, and in his own grave. There was no way to inform anyone, not from here. No one did the whole bell-above-the-grave thing anymore, because medical science was supposed to be able to confirm whether or not a person was properly, permanently, beyond-reasonable-doubt dead.

…Not that modern medical science dealt with alien blood all that much. Goddamnit, Nick.

"Heimdall?" Phil tried tentatively. Just in case. Nothing. He sighed, and berated himself for wasting the breath he'd need. Then he began to reason it out.

Okay, the coffin was made of wood. There had to be nails somewhere. If he couldn't get one from the coffin framework, maybe there was at least some kind of tack holding the padding in place? He was in the clothes he'd specified in his will – well done, May – and wondered how thoroughly they'd checked the tie. If it was the one he thought it was…

He pulled it off with trembling hands, and felt the tie-pin Fury had given him a few Christmases back, before he'd died (the first time). Grinning, he unbuttoned his jacket, hope renewed, and found his spare pair of glasses in the pocket. He had happy memories associated with those glasses. He put them on to protect his eyes, tied the tie around his nose and mouth and covering his ears, and squeezed the tie-pin. It lit up the inside of the coffin, and he shuffled to remove his right shoe. With some moves which would make an acrobat jealous, he got hold of the shoe, removed the sole, and found the titanium-blade knife he'd hidden in there in a fit of 'Get Smart'-related nostalgia. He kicked off his other shoe, just to make it even, and began to hack away at the wood above his legs.

Dirt poured down, and he took a final, large breath, enough for a few minutes, and then continued to carve until there was a large enough hole. He blinked instinctively, even though his eyes were protected, and with his knife and his hands, he managed to dig his way up through the earth. When his fingertips felt the cold air, he could've cried with relief. He doubled his efforts, nearly inhaling soil and constantly shaking the soot from his glasses, until his hands were out. He kept the tie-pin in his shirt pocket so that he still had some light.

He thought he could hear sounds, and it felt like the earth was moving. Was he hallucinating? Or was he so frantic in scrabbling out of here that he was about to bring a tree down on top of him?

"Phil! We'll get you out!"

He didn't really recognise the muffled voice, but someone grabbed onto his hands reassuringly, not pulling him out, just letting him know they were there. He squeezed back, and tried to hold his breath just a bit longer. Finally, he felt other hands scraping away the dirty around his arms, then his head, until he could breathe. Someone removed the tie and he gasped in a huge breath. There was a gabble of voices around, and he couldn't pick out what any of them were saying, but it was much quicker, and as soon as his legs were freed, he kicked at the dirt until his feet were out. With help, he climbed out of the deep hole, and someone held him close.

"I'm here, Phil, I'm here."

"May?"

It almost sounded like a sob close to his ear. "Yeah. It's me."

There were towels and a bottle of water, half of which was given to him, and the other half used to clean off the worst of the dirt. He had trouble standing, and got the shock of his life when a stranger helped support him, and May only smiled.

"Hi, Phil," the man said. "I'm Sam Wilson, Melinda's soulmate."

"Pleased… to meet you," Phil said. He coughed out more dirt. "Sorry. Not looking… my best."

"I'm pretty sure we're so damn glad to see you alive that we don't care," Sam said.

"That's right," May said, holding him from the other side.

"I'll take him back to the tower," Iron Man said. "Don't worry."

"Tower?" Phil said.

"I'll tell you later," May said. "Go with him. Your soulmate's waiting."

"So this…" He gestured tiredly to his stomach. "Felt it. Is it…?"

She bent down and used a torch to read it out. "'How do you feel?' That's what it says."

"Huh." He coughed again. "I need a real drink."

"You've just come back to life," Sam said. "Save the hard liquor for later."

"I wonder if my soulmate is," Phil said. His thoughts were jumbled, but he could still manage a smutty joke. He heard snorts of laughter, and was passed into Iron Man's arms.

"Let's get you home," Stark said, clamping his arms around Phil's back. "Hold on."

* * *

By touching his soulmark, Bucky could sense his soulmate's emotions. He felt the confusion, the calmness, then the panic, then a whole range of other feelings he couldn't put names to. It wasn't until the overwhelming relief that his knees gave out and he collapsed to the floor. Someone had made up a nest of pillows and blankets, which cushioned the fall. He remained there, not talking to anyone, until a yellow and red robot landed on the balcony and strode inside, one arm around a man in a suit, wearing no shoes, and absolutely covered in dirt.

"We've gotta get him to medical, but he needs a shower before Bruce can see even half the scratches, let alone treat them," the robot said. Bucky ran to them, and took over as support.

"How do you feel?" he asked, tilting up the man's head. Squinting eyes opened wide.

"I just climbed out of my own grave," he said.

"Guess that says it all," Bucky replied. "Are you Phil?"

"Yeah."

"I'm your soulmate."

"Gathered that."

"I'll show you to a bathroom," the robot said, face plate moving up. Oh. He was a man in a metal body. He led them to the elevator. "We can use the one in medical. The water in the shower is treated, to get rid of the worst of the germs. Will you be alright helping him, Barnes?"

"Yeah."

"The arm…?"

"Seen all kinds of use. Just needs an oil afterwards."

"More than an oil. I'll grab a hospital gown and some towels. While Bruce takes care of Coulson, I'll look at your arm."

"Not leaving him," Bucky said, pulling his soulmate closer.

"Relax. I'll bring the stuff to you."

* * *

It was the most tense twelve hours of May's life, from the time Bucky Barnes came running in with Phil's writing on his torso, until Phil had been retrieved, cleaned, patched up by Bruce, and slept off the worst of it. She didn't relax fully until he came down at breakfast, hair damp from presumably another wash, with Barnes trailing behind him and hovering like a mother hen.

As far as she was aware, they'd all been expecting a wrung-out shell of a man still partially suffering from amnesia, and with more questions about himself than they had answers. They weren't expecting a wide-eyed young man fussing around his soulmate, trying desperately to arrange breakfast for him. Sam had promised to talk with Bucky at some point, but it seemed like he wouldn't be able to separate him from Phil. Then again, Phil would probably also need counselling.

May understood the soulmate pull, especially strong when the bond was calling out to be filled. As Sam pointed out, they'd only known each other a few days. When they'd first had that conversation, May had been mourning Phil; now they'd all been pulled in the opposite direction, happy to have him back, but confused, and terrified that he might collapse at any moment, and what it would do to Barnes to lose him so soon.

"Sit down, James, you're making me dizzy," Phil said. Barnes grabbed the juice he'd poured for them and sat beside Phil.

"Is there anything else you want?" he asked, leaning forward.

"I want you to relax. Apparently I'm not going anywhere, whether I like it or not."

"You… don't you like it?"

Phil smiled, looking him up and down. "I do now."

"That implies you didn't before," Barnes said. Phil sighed.

"Bad attempt to flirt," he said. "I just think… I have a lot of questions, and I don't know who can answer them."

"I'll help you."

"I know."

"If you need any other help," May said, drawing their attention. "Sam's a counsellor."

Sam nodded. "And if you think I'm too close to this, I can find someone for you."

"No outsiders," Phil said. "They wouldn't understand."

"I'm sorry about trying to kill you once," Barnes said.

"You weren't in your right mind," Sam said, waving it off. "But I'm here to help."

* * *

It took three weeks of dates for May to drag up the courage to ask if Sam wanted to bond with her. He asked if they could have an official ceremony, just among friends, and she agreed. A wedding would remind her of her first marriage, but a bonding ceremony could only take place between soulmates. It was far more meaningful and intimate that way, and while May wouldn't have cared before, not since childhood, she wanted to do this for Sam. He'd helped her so much, and Phil and Bucky.

As far as she knew, _they_ hadn't discussed bonding. Most of the other couples in the tower had; the younger ones were all impatient to jump their older soulmates.

"You look lovely," Simmons declared, finally letting go of May's hair. "If this doesn't make Sam's jaw drop, I don't know what will."

"She had to wear something that went with his uniform," Skye said. She stopped fiddling with the hem of May's silver dress. "Jemma's right. If he doesn't drag you off to bond straight after the ceremony, he's more of a gentleman than I thought."

"Or has more self-restraint than any of you," May said dryly.

"It's hard putting them off," Pepper said. "Especially when _someone_ breaks into your bedroom and lies on your bed naked, waiting for you to get home."

"I regret nothing," Skye declared.

"Let's get you down the aisle before Sam starts to worry," Simmons said, pushing May out of the room. "God forbid you'd ever show up late for your own bonding ceremony, but you know what men are like."

"What _your_ man is like. Mine has self-confidence." She thought for a moment. "And wings."

* * *

**It always comes down to the wings.**

**When I started this chapter is was going to be Phil-centric (hence the macabre title), and then I decided that instead of going Phil/Johnny/Steve, I'd go Phil/Bucky as background, with May/someone as the main ship. May/Sam was requested by McGregorsWench, and it seemed to fit this chapter, so yay!**

**Yeah, I'm a terrible person. Reviving Phil while he's in his coffin, and having Bucky find out where his soulmate is through the soulmark which forms after that, plus a race against time to rescue Phil before he suffocates. I am… **_**really**_** not nice to characters, sometimes. I don't know whether you've noticed.**

**Sorry I haven't posted for a few days! I've been working on a long chapter, but then this one got stuck in my mind so I wrote it instead of trying to finish the other one. Oops.**

**Please review!**


	94. Third Time Lucky (FitzxRollinsxRumlow)

**Note: Spoilers for S02E20 of 'Agents of SHIELD', but non-canon from sometime during that episode. Ignoring that bit at the end, because that was one hell of a shock that I just didn't need. And are we still doing spoilers for 'Cap 2'?**

"Third Time Lucky"

(Though it's really third and fourth)

_Grant Ward_

Everyone had two soulmarks: one was meant to be a platonic bond, the other non-platonic. There was the odd case of a potential triad, someone who had three soulmarks, two of them non-platonic, but it was extremely rare. If you lost your third chance to bond, though, you'd never have another.

Leo Fitz figured out during puberty that while he was bisexual, he tended to lean towards the male of the species. So when he met Jemma Simmons… actually, they never spoke to each other as rivals, and that only ended when they discovered they were soulmates. The point is that he presumed she was his platonic soulmate, and she felt the same way about him, or so she said.

He was fine with that. Really. Especially when his second soulmate turned out to be the very good-looking specialist Grant Ward. Sure, the man didn't have a sense of humour, but some of Fitz's jokes really weren't worth laughing at. And sure, he seemed straight as an arrow, but Ward's other soulmate was Skye, and they didn't get on at all.

South Ossetia seemed to settle it, or so he thought. Fitz was more protective of Simmons after she'd jumped from the Bus. But Ward didn't seem to notice Fitz's tentative offers of going out. Even just as friends, to get to know each other better. That was scuppered when they realised that Ward and May were sleeping together. Clearly, it wasn't meant to be. So Fitz reconsidered Simmons. She was beautiful, of course he could see that, he wasn't blind. He was closer to her than he was to anyone else, including Skye and Ward and his mum. He'd been terrified when she nearly died, was jealous that he wasn't the one to save her, and… wondered how he'd missed the signs. That she was supposed to be his non-platonic soulmate.

But his heart was broken twice in that damned box. First, he realised that his soulmark for Ward had disappeared, after he'd finally accepted the betrayal for what it was. Then Simmons rejected him. (Then it was his brain which was broken, and that was going to take even longer to recover from.)

* * *

_Alphonso Mackenzie_

Mack. Fitz's salvation after Simmons left. Fitz had woken from his coma to aphasia, shaky hands, and a new soulmark. When he met the tall, handsome mechanic with the deep voice, saying those very words, he was sure it was just meant to be platonic. Even though Simmons' words were still there on his foot, the usual sign of a platonic bond, surely Mack wouldn't want a broken engineer as his soulmate?

He didn't know who Mack's other soulmate was, and he didn't care. Half the time, Fitz thought Mack was flirting with him, the other half he told himself that it absolutely wasn't happening, and he was insane to think that it was. Just because Mack knew what he was trying to say, could calm Fitz's hands with a soft touch, was there for him when Simmons wasn't…

Maybe this was his chance?

"We should go out on the town sometime," Mack said.

"And if someone from HYDRA sees us, and follows us home?" Fitz asked. "That would defeat the purpose of a secret base, Mack."

"So we stay in a hotel overnight, and sneak back when we're not being followed."

Fitz gulped, not looking at the mechanic. "Uh-huh?"

"As many beds as you want… or just singular. Think about it, Turbo."

Simmons came back, complicating things, trying to be his friend again and skirt (unsuccessfully) around the issue of him blurting out his feelings for her. He couldn't stay in the same room with her long enough to insist that he was fine, he had Mack, they might have something together, he didn't _need_ Simmons anymore.

(Except he did. Because they were FitzSimmons, and the team needed FitzSimmons, not Fitz and Simmons and Mack.)

He kept Skye's powers from his soulmates, because Fitz could see the writing on the wall. And hell, he could tell that Mack was keeping a secret from him, something he was sharing with Bobbi. Maybe she was his other soulmate? Maybe they weren't quite so platonic? Yet Bobbi and Hunter were back together, weren't they? Maybe _they_ weren't soulmates? Oh God, it was enough to give Fitz a headache. It was enough to give a headless person a headache.

But then the betrayal. Mack was with the people calling themselves the 'real' SHIELD. A spy. Fitz had ended up with another spy for a soulmate. And Simmons had been spying on HYDRA. Three spies, working for three different organisations, not matter how much the others claimed to be SHIELD as well.

It didn't help that Mack saved Fitz from injury, perhaps even death. He still heard that panicked voice, felt those arms around him, protecting him, when he was dreaming at night. It hurt so much, and he wished he could get past it. But he'd been burned by Ward and Simmons, and now Mack as well. Yet his soulmark stayed there, stubbornly, all the time he was on the run with Hunter and Coulson. It didn't disappear until the day before Mack quit.

Fitz would never know why his soulmark disappeared then. He'd probably just accepted that he'd only ever be betrayed by his soulmates. Why pretend that Fate knew what she was doing, when he was clearly just her plaything?

(Bringing Ward briefly back into his life may have also contributed to it. He'd never know, would he?)

* * *

_Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins_

Fitz coughed, hoping his sinuses wouldn't start playing up thanks to the dust in the clichéd burlap bag. He was aware that he was in the back of a car, and his hands were tied, more's the pity. It wasn't going to be easy to find his way out of here, that's for sure and certain. If only he'd taken a class on escaping from bonds. More to the point, a class on being able to dislocate his own shoulder and pop it back into place afterwards. Then again, he'd probably cry out from the pain and alert his kidnappers. (Hopefully not would-be murderers.)

The car pulled to a stop only ten seconds after he woke up, so he wouldn't have had time to do anything much before the boot was wrenched open and he was pulled out.

"They'll be happy to see you," someone said gruffly. He slung Fitz over his shoulder.

"If I get hay-fever because of this sack, I'm blaming you," Fitz said.

"Shut up, Scotty!"

"Least there wasn't anything about beaming anyone up," he muttered.

There wasn't a reply. Fitz couldn't try to escape in front of however many people were around, presumably all trained killers. He'd have to wait until he had a better opportunity, more resources at his disposal that he could shape into a means of defending himself, or at least get a signal out on all known SHIELD channels that he was in danger, give his location.

"One Agent Leopold Fitz," his carrier said.

"A burlap sack?" a new voice inquired. An echo; they must've been inside. "You like the clichés, don't you? Put him over here."

Fitz was strapped into a chair – hypocritical of the other bloke to talk about clichés – and the bag was finally removed. He looked around, losing count of the people behind him, and then glared at the two men standing in front of him, looking him over critically.

"You'll never take me alive," he deadpanned.

The men glanced at each other. The taller one – the one who'd spoken – straightened his spine.

"Thank you," he said sharply to Fitz's abductors. "We can take it from here."

"Our payment—"

"In your bank accounts. Our employers were generous. Now get out."

The room was quickly cleared, helped when the other man opened his jacket and revealed a revolver. In Fitz's opinion, their dark looks would've been enough. (No, he wasn't drooling over them. Not at all. They were the enemy. Unless this was another mistake? He hoped so.)

When it was just the three of them, Fitz raised his chin, about to ask what was happening, when he was interrupted.

"We definitely prefer you alive," the first one said.

"So we'd better keep you that way," the other said.

"…Oh, _hell_ no. No, no, no, this can't be happening." Fitz shook his head. "I don't believe it. My platonic soulmate doesn't want me, my first non-platonic was a HYDRA spy, my second was a… a different spy. When I got two new soulmarks I thought, 'Yes, maybe things are looking up,' but _no_. My two kidnappers—"

"Technically, we had you kidnapped, and for someone else," the second one said, and the other one sniggered. It just made Fitz angrier.

"You two are my last chance to… to…"

"To what?"

"Uh." He shook his head again, fidgeting his fingers. "The thing. With the marks. Um…"

"Bonding?" the first one suggested.

"Yes! Last chance to bond. And you're probably H-HYDRA."

"Free agents now, but we were before. I'm Brock Rumlow. This is Jack Rollins."

"Formerly STRIKE team," Rollins said. "Brock was the leader."

"So, _ex_-HYDRA agents. That really doesn't make me feel any better. Who are you working for?"

"We don't ask questions," Rumlow said.

"Maybe you should," Fitz said. "But then you don't seem to have a problem with working for the wrong people as long as you're getting paid."

"So you can honestly say that you've never worked with a mercenary," Rollins said.

Shit. Did they know about Hunter? Fitz set his jaw and said nothing.

"What to do with you?" Rumlow said, circling the chair. "I guess it depends on what our employers are planning."

"I'll never work for the enemy," Fitz said.

"How do you define the enemy?"

"Anyone who isn't SHIELD. So I'm guessing they'll end up killing me, like Garrett wanted his men to do, and like Ward almost did."

"Grant Ward?" Rollins said sharply. "He tried to kill you?"

"I nearly drowned. Jemma saved me. Funny thing is that he was my soulmate at the time. B-but you don't really care. I'm just another SHIELD agent to you. Another target to be… to be dispatch—"

"No!" Rumlow said, stopping behind Fitz. "We won't let them hurt you, Leopold."

"Everyone calls me Fitz." Mack called him 'Turbo', but he wasn't telling them that.

"We're not everyone," Rollins said, stepping closer. "We're your soulmates. Your last chance, you said?" Fitz nodded slowly. "Don't… don't reject us."

"Neither of us has ever had a platonic soulmate," Rumlow murmured. "Just each other. Then we got your mark, and the placement… it isn't platonic, either. I guess neither of us is friendly enough to have something platonic."

"We've got bigger worries now," Rollins said. "Like figuring out what the hell to do. We can't hand him over to people who'll just hurt him or use him."

"I'm right here."

"We can't go anywhere near Rogers," Rumlow said. "He'll kill us on sight, and he doesn't know Leopold."

"Fitz. And I'm still here."

"SHIELD would probably kill us on sight," Rollins said. "At least he'd be safe."

"But unbonded, and we're his last chance. I'm not taking that away from him."

"Don't I get a say in this?" Fitz asked incredulously. "For God's sake—!"

"Shh." Rumlow was bent over, his mouth near Fitz's ear, and he pressed a finger to Fitz's lips. "We'll get you out of here, sweetheart. Just do as we say, and everything will be alright. You'll see, Leopold."

"It's Fitz!"

"Whatever you say," Rollins said, and he smirked as he stroked Fitz's cheek. "Brock, what's the plan?"

"Our car's outside. We say we got a text saying there'd been a change of location, which deleted itself immediately. It was in the same code our employers have been using. Nothing to indicate it wasn't them. Then we change cars before they catch up to us."

"You're not gonna steal a car, are you?" Fitz asked.

"No. We wait in the shadows, then take the car pursuing us. It'll get us further."

"And improvise from there," Rollins continued.

"Right."

Fitz realised that his hands were untied, and he absently rubbed the circulation back into his wrists while Rollins worked on untying his legs.

"If you give me a piece of tech, I can get in contact with my team," he said.

"If they kill us you won't get another chance at bonding," Rumlow said.

"I'll talk them `round. It'd be nice to have someone join our side for once. I… suppose Fate wouldn't give you to me without good reason."

"Maybe we're supposed to persuade you," Rollins murmured, stroking up Fitz's legs to his knees.

"To do what?" Fitz scoffed. "I'm not going dark, an' that's final."

"Love your accent," Rumlow said, and he suddenly scooped Fitz up.

"The correct term is brogue, and what're you doing with me?"

"Pretend to be unconscious."

"What—?"

"Just do it, Leopold," Rollins said, stroking Fitz's hair. "I'll enjoy curling my fingers up in this."

Fitz blushed. "This is part of your plan?"

"That'll be for fun."

"Would you prefer us to actually knock you out?" Rumlow asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Uh… no."

"Then fake it `til we make it, sweetheart."

Fitz rolled his eyes, and went limp. He couldn't believe he was going along with this, but anything to get out of harm's way.

What the hell was he going to do with his soulmates?

He peeked at the two attractive gentlemen (he hoped they'd remain gentlemen, anyway) and decided to keep them. For now. They could prove useful along the way. If nothing else, they were obviously planning to get him to safety…

Useful? God. Now he was thinking like their employers. Like… like _HYDRA_. Figuring out who was going to be the most useful to further their own ends without caring about people's feelings at all. Yeah, he had no reason to trust these two, other than the fact that they were apparently his soulmates, but still.

"Show me your marks," he said.

"Now's not the best time," Rollins said. They bundled him into the back seat of the car and strapped him down so he couldn't be seen.

"But—"

"We'll show you when we have time," Rumlow said. "Why, d'you think we faked it?"

"It's possible. You could've found out my new words, pretended that I'd said yours, and tattoo them on later using a forgery of my writing—"

"To what end?" Rumlow asked. He jumped into the front seat beside Rollins, and started up the engine while Rollins played with his phone. "We need the money, and we can't afford to be choosy about what jobs we do."

"So you're contractors?"

"The correct terms is mercenaries," Rollins said. "There. I've transferred all the money to our backup account."

"The one they can't trace?" Rumlow asked.

"Yep."

"So we're set until they decide to come find us, and take us out for not handing you in."

"They'd… they'd do that?" Fitz asked.

"Of course."

"Why not just send the money back?"

"Because they've already paid the people who abducted you," Rollins said. "And even if they hadn't, they'll want you, and the fact that we've got you and don't plan to hand you over to them… They're not gonna like that."

"…Oh."

"We're not dealing with SHIELD here," Rumlow said. "There _are_ no second chances."

"Just…" He sighed. "Let me call Coulson. Explain it to him. If I ask nicely…"

Rollins looked at Rumlow, who paused, and then nodded. Rollins handed the phone back to Fitz, and he immediately dialled the number he had memorised.

"Who is this?" Coulson asked tersely.

"It's me, sir."

"Fitz? Where are you?"

"I was kidnapped. The men who were supposed to hand me over… are possibly my soulmates. We haven't checked marks yet, but they're trying to get me to safety. Sir… they're my last chance at bonding. They were HYDRA," Coulson swore, "but they're mercenaries now."

"And you trust them?"

"Not until I've confirmed we're soulmates. They were on the STRIKE team."

Coulson inhaled through his teeth. "Names?"

"Rumlow and Rollins."

"Call us Brock and Jack," Rollins said.

"I've heard of them," Coulson said. "They're really your soulmates?"

"…I think so. I'm using… Jack's phone. There's nowhere they can turn to. Sir, please, if they're my soulmates… either I go with them, or they come back to SHIELD with me."

"Two former STRIKE team members… They were a top crew. Worked with Captain America himself before HYDRA-Gate. Talented field agents, the best of the best when it came to their job."

"I'm sure their ears are burning, sir."

"I knew there was a reason I liked Coulson," Rumlow said, and Rollins chuckled.

"…They'd have to go through the lie detector. They betrayed Captain Rogers and SHIELD—"

"But they're my last chance, sir. I wouldn't get them as my last chance if they were beyond… beyond…"

"Redemption," Rollins said.

"Yeah, that," Fitz said. "Redemption, sir."

"You think it's possible?"

"I… don't think it's _im_possible. Please, sir. No one else would ever give them a second chance. We were Ward's second chance… he was my first non-platonic soulmate, for Christ's sake, and he almost killed me. These two are _saving_ me from God knows what, even though they may end up dead as a result. Please. They… they said my words. I know it's not an ideal situation, but if they really joined us… it could turn things around."

"I can't afford more mercenaries."

"At least talk it over with them. Mack's left, so that saves some money."

"If he hadn't left, you wouldn't have new soulmates."

"He left _because_ my mark for him disappeared," Fitz admitted.

"There was more to it than that," Coulson said. "He doesn't trust me."

"If he can't trust you, then how can I trust him? You know I'll always be on your side, sir, no matter what you do."

Coulson cleared his throat, but it still sounded odd when he said, "That kind of loyalty… Thank you, Fitz. I don't get that much anymore."

"Well, you _should_."

"They might call us soon," Rollins said. "You'll have to get off the phone, Leopold."

He rolled his eyes. "I'll call you back again when it's safe, sir."

"_You_ stay safe, Fitz. And don't trust them unless your instincts tell you to."

"Yes, sir." He hung up, and handed the phone back to Rollins. "When we stop, I'll need whatever I can get from the car that isn't essential. D'you have some tools?"

"There'll be something in the trunk," Rumlow said.

"Good."

While they waited under a tree to be caught, Fitz fiddled about with tools and car parts until he'd fashioned a few suitable things. One had to be connected to the car to power it, an improvised thunder-stick. Then there was an explosive and an EMP. (Well, he'd only had forty-five minutes to work with.) There wasn't even time to explain what he'd made before they were joined by their pursuers.

"Stay back while we deal with this," Rumlow said, pushing Fitz back behind a tree, who was juggling his tech. "When it's safe, one of us will come back for you."

Fitz blinked, dumbfounded. "But—"

"Let us take care of you, okay?"

He jogged back to join Rollins, and Fitz watched the fight. The two of them were against four men, and Fitz could admit to being a little turned on as his possible-soulmates beat down the others efficiently. He cradled the improvised weapons to his chest as he trotted back to their sides.

"Ready to go?" he asked. They frowned at him.

"You were supposed to stay there," Rollins said.

Fitz cocked his head. "I can… hear something coming."

Rumlow and Rollins looked at each other.

"I can hear it, too," Rollins said. Rumlow nodded, and there wasn't time for them to hide Fitz again before a lone, dark car pulled up and more men spilled out. Fitz checked out the thunder-stick, and it was sufficiently charged. He darted back to the others, barrelling into them and sending them to the ground. He threw himself down between them and brought down the thunder-stick, sending out a shockwave which knocked their attackers off their feet. He grabbed the grenade-like weapon out of his pocket and threw it to the other car, which exploded and burst into flames.

"The EMP should knock out any trackers in this car," he said, patting the one they'd been planning to steal. He stood up slowly, wincing at the ache in his knees, and glanced away as Rollins and Rumlow also got to their feet.

"You made those in less than an hour," Rumlow said slowly.

"Uh… yeah? I didn't have much to work with, but they were pretty effect—"

He was cut off when Rumlow shoved him up against the side of the car.

"So hot," Rumlow murmured, and then he kissed Fitz.

He could tell they were soulmates just from that. He threaded his fingers up around the back of Rumlow's neck and into his hair. There was a tingle, an undeniable rightness, and his soulmark itched. When Rumlow finally let him go, Rollins took over, and his soulmark began to itch as well. Fitz moaned softly, grumbling when Rollins pulled back.

"Still need to see our writing?" he asked.

"S-standard procedure," Fitz said. "No doubt in my… in my heart. But it's something we have to do anyway, and the team will want to know that I confirmed it visually a-as well as… tactilely."

"Let's wipe the trackers in this one and get going," Rumlow said, tapping the side of the car. Fitz threw the EMP into the backseat, and the wave swept right through the vehicle, hopefully disabling any spy tech inside.

"There's GPS on my phone," Rollins said, checking the screen. "But I guess you need to call Coulson first."

"Thanks," Fitz said. He removed the EMP device, tossed it over his shoulder, and then climbed into the backseat with Rollins's mobile. Coulson answered halfway through the first ring, and Fitz settled as they began to drive off.

"Fitz, is that you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where are you?"

"No idea," Fitz said. "The GPS is on this phone, so we'll check it after I've hung up."

"Keep it on, and we'll find you. Are you still with…?"

"Yes. They're my soulmates, sir. I could feel it."

"Shit."

"I'm… I'm going wherever they go. They've probably done some reprehensible things, but that was before. Now that we've found each other…"

"We'll do whatever we have to, to make it up to you _and_ whatever team you're part of," Rumlow said, looking over the back of his seat. Rollins had taken over as driver.

"I heard that," Coulson said before Fitz could repeat it. "Bring them in. But I'll need to compare the writing samples first."

"Thanks, sir. Can you still track the phone after the call's over?"

"Skye's already pinpointing your location. Just keep driving; we'll find you."

"Yes, sir." Fitz hung up, and handed the phone to Rumlow. "They can find us. We just keep—"

"Driving, I know," Rumlow said. "They enhanced me after I got run over by a Helicarrier and nearly died. So, enhanced senses. Nothing like Captain America, but then that'd be a pain in the ass, being that sensitive."

"I'm not enhanced," Rollins said. "I'm just naturally brilliant."

Fitz snorted. "And modest. Clearly."

Rumlow chuckled. "I meant it before, you know. The way you knocked together three weapons like that in three quarters of an hour? Hell of a turn-on."

"If brains are a turn-on, I should probably inform you that I've got multiple degrees."

"We know all about you, _Dr._ Fitz," Rollins said. "Engineering genius. Hell if I know why we were lucky enough to get you."

"Maybe I'm your second chance?" Fitz said. "You must've done something good. Not everyone would be so forgiving." Simmons, Skye, and May all came to mind. Perhaps he should've forgiven Mack? But the man had lied to him. He'd saved Fitz's life, and encouraging Simmons to examine him seemed like a form of forgiveness at the time. Yet he'd lost his soulmark, and now had two shiny new soulmates who seemed completely wrong for him, but… if he could bring them to the good side, maybe it would be his own form of redemption, to make up for rejecting Mack?

People who were part of triads like that were considered blessed. So he'd take it as a sign from Fate that he was meant to change their lives for the better, and help SHIELD at the same time.

He pulled his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around his shins.

"I don't know whether my bed back at base will be big enough for all three of us," he said without thinking. The car swerved and Rollins swore as he manoeuvred the car back into place. "Sorry! Just thinking out loud."

"We're not taking you to bed straight away," Rumlow said. "You deserve better."

Fitz blushed, and cleared his throat. "Alright. Uh, thanks."

* * *

_Five months later_

"C'mon. Stop being so… so noble!"

Brock arched an eyebrow from behind the book he was reading. Jack chuckled.

"We were waiting for you to come to us," he said. "When something made you reach that cracking point, we'd know you were really ready."

"Great. So now we can bond. D'you know how long I've been waiting?"

"As long as we have?"

"_Yes_. So take me to bed."

Jack grinned evilly, and moved to Fitz's side while Brock set his book on the bedside table.

"Whatever you want, sweetheart," Jack said, and he yanked Fitz into a mind-blowing kiss. Brock sneaked up behind Fitz and pressed gentle kisses on the back of his neck while he held Fitz's hips.

"We're ready when you are, Leopold," he whispered.

"I'm never going to break you of that habit, am I?"

"Never."

* * *

…**Okay. Ship requested by stilesherox3. And it ended up like this. Fitz/Ward and Fitz/Mack were requested by marie, so I threw them in, rather than coming up with alternative ways to write them, especially since I can't trust either Mack or Ward anymore.**

**Hope it was okay. Please review!**


	95. Muzzle Me Not (Fitz x Loki)

**Note: I haven't seen the latest episode yet, so PLEASE no spoilers!**

"Muzzle Me Not"

It was easy to judge that a situation was truly awful based on how soon Director Coulson slumped over and rested his forehead on the desk. Just a minute in was impressive. But fifteen seconds into the meeting? Unheard of, until now.

Skye whistled loudly, and everyone – SHIELD and Avengers alike – quickly shut up, although Coulson's head stayed down.

"It's not the first time we've dealt with brainwashing and mind-altering," he told the table.

"Sir, could you speak up?" Hunter called from the other end of the table. Coulson sat up properly and narrowed his eyes.

"Out of everyone here, I'm one of the few who has good cause to hate and mistrust him," he said. "But it would be hypocritical to ask people to trust me after being injected with alien blood and having my memories wiped, and not extend the same courtesy to Loki."

"He killed you," May said.

"Really?" Coulson said dryly. "I forgot. That explains the itch in my back when I talk to him." He sighed. "Look, he wasn't in his right mind and he was being controlled. True, I never killed any of the good guys directly, but I still made errors in judgement which led to trusted agents ending up dead. No one's blaming Barton for anything he did under Loki's control."

"Except Clint," Romanov muttered. Barton stuck his tongue out at her, and Coulson's head ended up on the desk again.

"Children," he said. "I have children working for me. I thought child labour was illegal? It's only a matter of time before I'm arrested. Ugh."

Skye patted his shoulder. "Slow breaths, DC."

"I'll slow breath you."

"…That doesn't make any sense. And sounds kinda creepy."

Coulson glared at her, and Fitz snorted softly in amusement. He cleared his throat when the glare was turned on him.

"Sorry, sir," he said. "How long are we supposed to be keeping, uh… Prince Loki in…"

"Custody."

"Yes, sir."

"As long as necessary."

"The All-Father was impressed with how Loki ran Asgard during his Odin-Sleep," Thor rumbled. "After the palace healers were granted the opportunity to study Loki, they found deeply-cast mind control spells, and traced the origins back to Thanos. Now Father is studying any changes Loki made to the court, in case they were under Thanos's orders. He does not necessarily believe Midgard to be a safer place for Loki, but…"

"But?" May prompted.

"Sif told us that you succeeded in fixing Lorelei's muzzle," he said. "Dwarves stormed the court of Asgard after Loki's disguise was discovered, and they gagged him before we could stop it. It is a muzzle of their own devising, and we cannot break it. Not without risking harm to Loki."

"And we don't want to harm Loki… _why_?" Stark said.

"He is my brother, and deserves a fair trial. He is not free of sin, of course; however, he must have the opportunity to redeem himself for the acts performed under his own volition. He cannot make amends in Asgard – or indeed anywhere – until he can speak once more, and the Silver Tongue is no longer silenced."

"Fitz was the one who repaired Lorelei's gag," Coulson said. Fitz shrank back in his chair when all eyes swivelled to him.

"Y-yes, but my hands—"

"If you could free my brother from his restraints without causing him harm, we would be forever in your debt," Thor said earnestly. "The Man of Iron aggravates Loki—"

"It's mutual, trust me," Stark said. "And I'm not helping the son of a bitch who broke my tower."

"Well…" Fitz swallowed as he trailed off. "I suppose if it doesn't need to be repaired, only removed, then that will be alright. Should be easy enough. Just dismantling it." He nodded, twisting his fingers together, and hoped he was exuding enough confidence.

* * *

Leo Fitz knew what it was like to be trapped in your own head, and unable to communicate with others. Not that he was completely sympathetic; Ward had pushed him to that, Fitz wasn't the one pushing others. And this was possibly a very foolish idea which could get him killed.

He knocked at the door of Vault D, and May let him in. He paused when he saw Loki, mouth bound by some kind of metal contraption, perched in the middle of the bed and staring straight ahead.

"I brought some tools and a first aid kit," Fitz told May. "Until I get a closer look at the device, I won't be able to tell how much it's hurting him, how it's attached to his head…"

"Do what you have to," she said. "I'll be here."

Fitz nodded, and when the barrier was lowered he stepped forward, and then sat beside Loki, who didn't move a muscle. Fitz fiddled about in his toolkit until he found a pen light, and then shifted around so he was facing Loki.

"Come on, look at me, dove," he said. It was hard to move Loki's head around, but he managed it. "Let me have a look at you, eh? See what they've done." He switched on the torch and used it to examine the sides of the gag. It had been formed to fit Loki's face perfectly, clinging to those sharp cheekbones and the jaw like… like spandex. Wait, no, not spandex. Something else clingy. Tight jeans?

_Bad Leo. This is the enemy_.

Loki raised his eyebrows, and Fitz cleared his throat when those green eyes raked over him with a piercing gaze. He prodded around the edges of the gag.

"Just stop me if I hurt you, alright, Loki?" he asked. Loki inclined his head, and Fitz tugged, trying to pull the muzzle away just far enough to see beneath, but the metal wouldn't leave. It seemed fused to the skin. How painful must it have been? Fitz chewed his lower lip as he turned his attention to the vertical bars over Loki's lips, and tried to pry at them. Loki gripped Fitz's wrist, painfully tight, and the reason was clear when blood began to seep from the… they weren't bars. It was some kind of metallic thread holding the lips closed. Someone had obviously wiped away the original blood stains. He whirled around and strode up to the barrier.

"D'yeh know what those bastards did?" he hissed at May. "They sewed his mouth closed, and then they… they melted the mask onto Loki's skin. I can't remove any of it without hurting him. Our best hope is that it can be removed by magic. Can he use his powers?"

"Not here, and not on himself," May said.

"No clues at all?"

"I can ask Thor."

"Yes. Please do that." He looked back over his shoulder at Loki, who was still watching him unblinkingly. "Hurry. I'll try to cut the threads off while you're gone, but it's not much use if he can't move his jaw."

May nodded, and left the vault. Fitz squatted down by the medical kit and fished out scissors and padding. Gods – or aliens – were unlikely to get a serious infection, but he took out rubbing alcohol and surgical gloves as well. This was more Simmons's forte, but he could manage.

"I'll try not to hurt you," he said. "If these don't work, I'll try something else."

The wires at the corners of Loki's mouth weren't too bad, but the thicker cords were harder. Wire cutters solved the problem, though, and he kept wiping away the blood dripping from Loki's wounds.

"There now," he said when he pulled out the final metal thread. "I'll need to get more tissues, but here are the last of them. I'll see what's keeping the others. Unless there's something you can tell me?" Loki worked his jaw but couldn't move it, and shook his head. "Alright. I won't be long, emerald eyes."

Fitz trotted up the steps, and his shoulders slumped when he saw Thor's forlorn expression.

"There is no point in your continuing," he said. "My brother cannot be saved."

"W-what do you mean?"

"The fiends who muzzled him left a missive," Thor continued, holding up a note. "It says that only Loki's soulmate can save him."

"But I—"

"Not even the threads over his mouth can be removed by anyone other than his soulmate."

"…Can I see?" Thor held up the note, but it definitely wasn't in English. "Oh. But you said…" He frowned, and Thor cocked his head.

"We must not give my brother false hope," he said. "Loki was not born with a soulmark, nor has he gained one since we were children. Unless, I suppose, he neglected to tell me. Perhaps if we could find—"

"How is his soulmate supposed to help where I can't?" Fitz asked.

"Through touch," Thor said.

"Yes, but how? The metal is melded to his skin."

"That is but half the problem," Thor said. "His lips… have been sown."

"But you don't _need _his soulmate for that," Fitz said. "Just wire cutters."

"Have you tried cutting those threads?" Thor said, raising his voice. "It is impossible!"

"No, it…" Fitz's breath caught in his chest and his words faltered. _Words_. He turned on his heel and ran back downstairs, into the vault, and skidded to a stop in front of Loki, who cocked his head. "Please forgive me, but I have to try."

Then he cupped Loki's face, tilted it up, and pressed their lips together. A shiver raced through his bones, and he nuzzled Loki's nose with his, before moving his kisses elsewhere, around the mouth of the gag and along the sides.

Large hands grabbed hold of his waist, and Fitz steadied himself with one hand on Loki's shoulder and the other peeling the golden mask away from pale skin. He peppered kisses over the top and on the underside, soothing the pink marks left behind. It took a long time, working his way from one end to the other, until the horrible mask was finally tossed aside.

Then he hesitated. Because he'd just broken a spell and discovered that he was Loki's soulmate at the same time. The strange writing on his leg finally made sense. No wonder he'd never seen it anywhere else; it was an otherworldly script.

Still staring at Loki, Fitz shook himself out of his daze and packed away his tools and first aid kit. Well aware of the hand on his knee, he shoved the equipment aside and sat up again, waiting for Loki to say something.

"Thank you," Loki finally whispered. "You are a gifted engineer."

"Engineering had nothing to do with it," Fitz said. "Uh… but you're welcome."

Loki chuckled, and cupped the back of Fitz's neck. "You called me 'dove', _and_ 'emerald eyes'."

"…Uh…"

"I liked it."

"O-oh?"

"Mmm-hmm." Loki leaned forward. "Allow me to thank you?"

"You already have." Loki's eyes narrowed minutely, and Fitz winced, mentally berating himself. "I see. You can… yeah, you can thank me like that, i-if you want."

"I _do_ want, my soulmate," Loki said.

Fitz met him halfway there, nearly falling over when Loki wound his arms around Fitz's back and pulled him down to lie on the bed, side by side. Loki rolled over on top of him, plastering himself against Fitz. The taste of blood in his mouth was ever-present, but not as interesting as Loki's tongue, hot and curious and slippery. He whimpered as Loki rocked down against him, growling.

"Loki!"

Fitz's soulmate grumbled unintelligibly as he raised his head and scowled at Thor.

"Do you mind?" he said. "I am busy with my soulmate."

"He… he is—"

"I removed his… his gag thing," Fitz said, gesturing in its general direction. "I've never been able to read my soulmark—"

"You said my words," Loki said quickly. "They will be in your hand."

Fitz tried not to stare as Loki removed his shirt, but he knew his mouth was watering as he took in the porcelain skin.

"Gorgeous," he murmured, reaching out. But he jerked his hand back before he could touch, blushing. Loki laughed again.

"See?" he said, twisting at his waist. Fitz leaned in, and his breath caught.

"Yeah, that's my writing," he said. He smiled up at Loki, and then pounced.

* * *

"I'm going to lose my engineer, aren't I?" Phil said, resting his head against the back of his office chair. "When Loki returns to Asgard, of course Fitz will go with him. And Simmons will probably want to go, too. What do I do?" He frowned at May when she didn't reply. "This is one of those times I need an opinion from you, an oral one. I'm too distracted to be able to interpret your facial dialogue."

"Do you need me here?" she asked.

"Yes. Or I'd be talking to myself."

"Maybe Loki will stay?"

"I… I don't know how I'd feel about that. Every time I look at him I remember being stabbed in the back."

She arched an eyebrow. "You were the one encouraging forgiveness."

"Because I thought they'd all leave as soon as we'd done everything we could to help," Phil admitted. "Either I'm going to lose at least one agent, or I'll gain someone who gives me chills up the spine. And you know how some of the others feel about gifted people. Loki isn't going to stay if he has to go onto the asset index, and neither will Fitz."

"What do you suggest?"

"Either I scrap the asset index – or at least insist that Loki stays off it – and leave, or I let them go where they want to."

"Hmm."

"…Or I try to get over how Loki makes me feel. But I think they're more likely to return to Asgard than stay here."

"If you need a new engineer, there's Stark," May said.

Phil gave her a withering look. "Yeah-_no_."

* * *

**No idea how to resolve it. That's the problem with writing Loki and Phil after **_**The Avengers**_**, especially taking into consideration the ghastly business with TAHITI. Even when they're not paired together, they're still hard to write.**

**I had a seizure on Monday, which has thrown me for a loop. It's made writing difficult for me, because it rattled my brain a bit, so I don't know when I'll get back to regular-ish writing. I've started three new chapters and haven't gotten past the first page with them because of it. Sigh.**

**Pairing requested by Mira SeverusSirius Black-Snape.**

**Please review!**


	96. Shifting Focus (Fitz x Ultron)

**Note: Spoilers for 'Age of Ultron' and the 'AoS' episodes around then.**

"Shifting Focus"

Fitz tugged on Hunter's sleeve, and met Coulson's eye. He tilted his head towards the office, and his two new friends followed him in.

"This isn't the best time," Coulson said.

"I've suddenly gotten a soulmark," Fitz said. "I've never had one, and it's… weird. I needed to tell someone, and I can't trust anyone else around here."

"Alright, mate," Hunter said, crossing his arms. "Show us."

Fitz pulled up his left trouser leg and showed them the writing on his calf.

"I see what you mean," Coulson said, his eyebrows jumping. "That's definitely…"

"Different," Hunter said.

"It's the same font computers use when they boot up," Fitz said.

"It would make sense for someone who's computer-mad to be your soulmate," Coulson said, his lips quirking up at the corners.

"But who writes that precisely?" Hunter asked incredulously.

"Maybe it's a robot," Coulson replied. Fitz scowled at him.

"It depends on whether or not you believe a robot can have a soul," he said.

"Or an Artificial Intelligence, like the one in Stark's building?"

"Oh God. My soulmate is an AI?" Fitz's breathing sped up. "That's… that's not right."

"I'll call Pepper," Coulson said. "Wait… uh, no. I'll call Maria. She'll be able to tell us whether JARVIS has a soulmark."

Hunter shoved Fitz onto a chair and stood beside him, a hand on Fitz's shoulder, while Coulson placed a call to Maria Hill. She appeared harried when she showed up on the screen, and glared at them.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Could you ask whether JARVIS has a soulmark?" Coulson said. She gaped.

"Could I…? _No_! We have bigger problems here, Phil. And it doesn't matter anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because Ultron destroyed JARVIS."

"Ultron?" Hunter said. "Who's that?"

"An evil robot who wants to kill everyone," Hill said. "Stark and Banner created it. We're in the middle of a battle here."

"When was Ultron created?" Coulson asked. His hands were clenched at his sides. "Can we do anything to help?"

"You have your problems, we have ours," she said. "It's seriously only been a matter of minutes, although it feels a hell of a lot longer."

"Minutes?" Fitz said. "But—"

"Where is he?" Coulson said.

"Don't fight our battles for us. Unless this is how you plan to reveal yourself to the Avengers?"

"Agent Hill," Fitz said, standing up and striding to the screen. "My soulmark appeared less than fifteen minutes ago, and it's in computer-style writing. If it's possible for an AI to have a soul…"

Hill stared at him, then turned her gaze to Coulson.

"I'll get someone to pick him up," she said. "Agent Fitz…"

"Whatever it takes," he said. "If I'm the only one who can stop him—"

"He wants to bring about world peace by eliminating the Avengers," Hill said. "_Some_ of them don't deserve to be wiped out, particularly Barton and Rogers."

"Or Thor and those arms," Coulson added. Hunter choked on air. Fitz fidgeted.

"I'll change into something a bit more…" He gestured to his casual clothes.

"Wait on deck," Hill said. "Is there anyone you want to bring with you?"

"These two," Fitz said, gesturing to Coulson and Hunter.

"I have to stay here," Coulson said. "Hunter?"

"I'm happy to go with you, mate," Hunter said, slouching over to Fitz's side. "Anyone else?"

"Probably can't spare anyone else," Fitz mumbled, and Coulson shook his head. "And there's no one else I'd trust, anyway."

Hunter slung an arm around his shoulders. "Then let's get suited up."

* * *

"Maybe if we build someone for Ultron," Tony suggested. He only received dirty looks – and not the fun kind – for that. "Look, we all saw his soulmark on the security footage. Who'd seriously have a robot for a soulmate except another robot?"

"Maybe von Strucker made something?" Steve said.

"Look, we're following the trail to Wakanda," Natasha said. "That's it. The sooner we stop… _him_, the better."

"I should run handwriting analysis on the mark," Tony said.

"If it's online, he'll have found it by now," Bruce said. "You know that."

"If he's even bothered looking."

"He knows he has a soulmark. Of course he'll try to find his soulmate. Wouldn't you?"

"It looked like a written hand," Thor said. "Mortal or immortal, it seems that Ultron's soulmate is possibly a flesh-and-blood being."

"They're screwed," Clint said in a sing-song voice.

"So if his soulmate is human, it has to be a robo-phile," Bruce said. "Or an asexual."

"Please," Tony said, and he snorted. "No offspring of mine has a chance of being asexual."

"That's narrow-minded and wrong," Steve said, frowning at Tony. "Are you straight?"

"Yeah."

"Your old man… what's that saying? Played for both teams? Even made a pass at me once. His soulmate was only a few years old and I was blank." He shrugged, and Tony stared at him, jaw on the ground. "It was tempting, but he could also be an asshole. Otherwise I definitely would've… but that's another story. Point is, sexuality isn't genetic."

Clint hid chuckles behind his hand, shaking shoulders betraying his amusement. Tony just looked semi-traumatised.

"Now that we've turned Stark's perception of his father on his head, I should probably tell you that we have incoming," Natasha said.

"Who is it?"

"Hill." She pressed a few buttons on the jet's console. "You're on, Maria."

"Did any of you notice whether Ultron has a soulmark?" Hill asked. They all looked at each other.

"What makes you ask that?" Bruce said.

"Because if that's true, I might have his soulmate with me."

"What?" they shouted.

"I'm bringing him on board. He works for… a friend, and reported that he'd just received a soulmark in computer font, at around the same time Ultron came to 'life'."

"Can he be trusted?" Steve said, stepping closer to the monitor.

"Yes," Hill said. "He's SHIELD all the way."

"SHIELD-SHIELD?"

"HYDRA tried to recruit him, but he refused. Then they tried to execute him, and he ended up with minor brain damage. He's… look, you can trust him."

Steve sighed. "Better bring him on board."

"He's bringing a friend. They can help you in the fight even if Fitz isn't Ultron's soulmate."

"Fitz?" Tony said.

"Leo Fitz."

"He worked on our equipment!" Clint said, sitting up straighter.

"He's one half of FitzSimmons," Natasha said. "I've met them before. You should've said who it was at the start. They can't lie to save their lives."

Maria half-smiled. "I'm sure he'll be flattered that you remember him."

"Are you kidding?" a voice said in the background. "The Black Widow and Hawkeye remember _us_? Bloody hell!"

"Fitz, you'd better not fanboy over any of them," Maria said sharply. "Not the time."

"…Yes, Agent Hill."

They were soon joined by another jet, and a line between the planes allowed two men to zip onto the Avengers' ride. Clint was the first to greet them, and burst out laughing.

"Lance Hunter, what the hell are you doing here?" he asked.

"Hunter's here as my friend," Fitz said. "Nice to see you again, Agent Barton. You too, Agent Romanov."

Clint swiftly introduced everyone, kicking Tony's foot when the billionaire continued to play with his phone instead of looking up. He didn't speak again until they were nearly at Wakanda.

"I've heard of you, Fitz," he said. "Encountered some of your papers when I first hacked SHIELD's files. Put them aside for light reading, and instead it kept me up all night."

"Uh… sorry?" Fitz said.

"Don't be. Well, I mean, Pepper yelled at me for the whole engineering fury which resulted, but then Extremis kind of distracted us, so I'm pretty sure she's forgotten."

Fitz's mouth opened and closed several times, blushing, and he turned to Steve.

"W-what's the plan, sir?" he asked.

"We get you inside, arrange for you to meet Ultron, negotiate a peace treaty."

"I'm going with you," Hunter said.

"And if I'm not his soulmate?" Fitz said.

"Then we get you the hell out of there," Tony said. "You're not Avengers. This isn't your fight."

* * *

Fitz and Hunter crept through the vibranium storehouse until they reached the room angry voices were coming from.

"…Stark said that."

"What?" That was definitely an electronic voice.

"It was Tony Stark who said that." Fitz and Hunter peeked around the doorway. "You remind me of him."

All Fitz could focus on was a large robot. He knew there were other people in the room, but he'd never seen anything like this before.

"You think I'm like Stark?" Ultron thundered. "How dare you!"

He raised a blade, and Fitz knew something bad was going to happen. Before the blade could come down on some part of his enemy, Fitz leapt forward.

"Stop! Don't do that! Put it down!" he shouted, grabbing Ultron's arm.

Red eyes met his. Fitz's breath caught, and he quickly let go as the blade fell to the ground. A metal hand grabbed hold of his wrist, and Fitz couldn't look away. He swallowed, and wondered whether he was supposed to keep talking.

"Hello there," he whispered. "You… can talk, can't you?"

"This should be impossible," Ultron said, and Fitz's legs nearly went from under him at the confirmation. "But you're right here. Seems they were telling the truth."

"Where are your words?" Fitz said.

"On my back."

Hunter snorted, and Fitz glared at him, aware that his cheeks were probably fire engine red. He bent over and pulled up his trouser leg to show the words on his calf. Ultron squatted down and read the words.

"Can I see mine?" Fitz asked. Ultron's eyes flashed once, and he turned as he stood.

"They're under the tape," he said.

"Will it hurt if I…?"

"No."

Nevertheless, Fitz peeled it away carefully, and exhaled in relief. "It's my writing."

"It'd be awkward if it wasn't," Ultron said. "Leave that off."

He balled up the tape and threw it aside, narrowly missing the man with white hair.

"You are Ultron's soulmate?" he asked in a European accent. One of the Latverian twins Steve had mentioned, presumably.

"Yes," Fitz said, and he grinned. "Thought I'd never get a soulmate, and then today a mark finally showed up. Couldn't believe it at first."

"Well, no extinguishing all of humankind since you're part of it," Ultron said. "Just the Avengers."

"A-actually, about that," Fitz said. "Um, they were the ones who brought us here. My boss and I worked out that you might be my soulmate, and the Avengers were already on their way, so we met up and they brought Hunter an' me."

"Why are you here?" the woman asked, frowning at Hunter.

…Wait. Hunter's eyes widened as they met Fitz's.

"I'm the support team, so to speak," Hunter told her. "What's your name, darlin'?"

Her jaw dropped, and the white-haired man gasped.

"I am Wanda Maximoff," she said.

"Well, Wanda, would you like to check my soulmark?" he said. "Hey, Fitz, thanks for asking me along."

"Isn't this lovely?" the man sitting down said, laughing nervously as Ultron's head swivelled to face him. "Everyone meeting their soulmates. Aren't you lucky? I'm still looking, so, uh…" He trailed off and gulped. Fitz took Ultron's arm and pulled him closer.

"Sweetheart?" he tried. Ultron's head turned again, red gaze meeting Fitz's. "Killing the Avengers won't make people safer." Ultron opened his mouth… thing, and Fitz jumped in. "B-but if you want? Uh, HYDRA definitely doesn't want world peace. They want to kill anyone who opposes them, which includes me." Ultron's eye-slits narrowed. "Besides, think of all the people you'd put out of work. I'm all for electronics – I'm an engineer, after all—"

"What's your name, my soulmate?" Ultron asked, and his other hand touched Fitz's hair.

"L-Leopold Fitz."

"Should probably tell you my name," Hunter said. "Lance Hunter."

"I'm Wanda's twin brother, Pietro," the blond said, moving to his sister's side. Fitz was suddenly very glad that he didn't have siblings, and that Ultron was also an only child.

"I've just read all about you, Leopold Fitz," Ultron said. "You're the perfect soulmate for me. Now let's go and kill all of HYDRA!" He sounded very cheerful. "Oh, we'll still need vibranium."

"Why?" Fitz said.

"To make a smoother body for you to bond with," Ultron explained matter-of-factly.

Hunter sniggered. Fitz cleared his throat.

"We can talk about that later," he said. "Right now, this room's a tad crowded. I'm sure you can—"

"I'll check the surrounding area," Pietro said. "You, keep your hands off my sister."

Hunter held up his hands. "The Avengers will still be out there. Don't hurt them, or bang goes our ride home."

"Fitz isn't leaving me," Ultron said, his voice deceptively light.

"I didn't bring anything with me," Fitz said. "Besides, maybe you could come with me?"

"I'm not going anywhere near Stark!"

"No one says you have to, Ultron."

"Ooh! I like how you say my name. Your accent pleases my circuits."

Fitz blinked. That was a new one. "Right. Uh—"

Pietro ducked back into the room, scowling.

"What is wrong, brother?" Wanda asked.

"One of _them_," Pietro spat, "is my soulmate."

"Which one?" Hunter said.

"The blond archer. Clint Barton. _Hawkeye_."

"Oh, he's cute," the sitting man said. Ultron glared at him.

"Let's go… somewhere else," Fitz said quickly. "Come on. I think we all need to have a long talk, and this isn't the place for it."

* * *

"So how did Pietro and Clint find out?" Phil asked Fitz, relaxing back in his computer chair with the phone on speaker.

"Apparently Pietro ran right into Clint, who said, 'Where's the fire, honeybun?' It took Pietro a few seconds, and then he said, 'Under my feet, babe'." Phil laughed. "The four of them are talking."

"Four?"

"The twins, Clint, and Hunter."

"Where's Ultron?"

"Uh… well, he's here. With me. Holding me, to be specific."

"I look forward to meeting him," Phil said.

"He's looking forward to meeting you, too," Fitz said. "And everyone else who's important to me. Uh… and if you could draw up a list of people we want dead, that would be helpful. I, uh, mentioned Ward, so if you have a location for him…"

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, sir. Ultron's keen to get started."

"I'm sure he is."

Phil smirked as he hung up the phone. Gonzales was gonna be pissed when he found out that they were getting a sentient robot at the base.

* * *

**I had more lines after that, but decided that it would be funnier to leave it there.**

**Well, Fitz/Ultron was my own idea (because I'm weird and inappropriate like that, and this is a definite fix-it for EVERYTHING). Hunter/Wanda was requested by WabbitWanderer95, and Clint/Pietro was requested by Niom Lamboise, Child_of_Band, KarlaColt82, and steampunkunicorn. Have I missed anyone? I wasn't planning to write a chapter centring on Clint/Pietro, since we see them together in the film, so I threw them in as a background pairing. Now Phil has to write his 'Hey-I'm-alive-again' speech. Eh. Not my problem.**

**Okay, so I watched the finale of season two of 'Agents of SHIELD' today, and I have all these FEELS! And PHEELS! And I'll probably end up writing some stuff related to it in future chapters, but I thought everything was okay and then more bad stuff happened and now I want to curl up and cry and write many fix-its.**

…**Please review! And thank you to everyone who sent their best wishes for my speedy recovery. My left eye still looks scary because half of it is bloodshot, but meh. Could be worse.**


	97. Times of Stress (Cal x Phil)

**Note: Big spoilers for season 2 finale of 'Agents of SHIELD'. Major spoilers. If you haven't seen it, DON'T READ THIS! A lot of dialogue taken from the episode.**

"Times of Stress"

Phil backed up as one hand shot up and grabbed onto the bedding. What the hell was going on? Was Skye's father okay?

He… was certainly different. Phil heard Fitz curse, and willed his scientists to run from whatever Cal had become.

"You were looking for a monster," Cal said, standing straighter. His eyes landed on the adrenaline injector, and he picked it up. "_This _is what I was missing."

The thing about soulmarks is that people used to think they were the first words your soulmate said to you. Eventually, they realised that that wasn't the case; they were significant words your soulmate would say to you in times of stress, or when you would most need them. As a SHIELD agent, Phil had spent all of his working life expecting to meet his soulmate on a mission.

This kind of confusion led to the wrong people marrying, in hopes that they were getting it right. Attraction didn't automatically equate to soulmateship, though; and apparently, long-time hatred didn't _not_ equate to soulmateship.

"Cal," Phil said, his voice wavering. "Cal, l-listen to me."

The man – who'd pulled some kind of Mr. Hyde – was still advancing on them. Phil herded FitzSimmons outside as Cal flipped the hospital bed, and closed the doors between them.

"Cal!" he tried again. "I can take you to Daisy, but you _need_ to calm down!"

Cal chuckled, his grin manic. "This is me calm, Phil."

"Ah, Fitz?" Phil said, glancing over his shoulder. "I'm open to suggestions."

"Icers are a good start?" Fitz said.

"Agreed," Simmons added, handing them out.

"Gotta admit, I'm not hopeful these will do anything but piss him off," Phil admitted.

"There are more lethal sol—"

"No!" Cal was still banging on the door, and Phil backed off a few steps, swallowing. "Not yet. He's Skye's father, or he was."

"Sir," Simmons began.

"And he said my words! I'm… I'm hoping there's still a sliver of the man who—"

He couldn't finish his sentence, because Cal actually managed to break through the glass door. It hurt Phil to shoot him, but since the Icers didn't do a damn thing it was time for plan… whatever they were up to.

* * *

Turned out that Plan Whatever They Were Up To involved pinning Cal to a wall with a car. And a battering ram. And trying not to visibly wince at the threats piling up.

"What we both want is to protect your daughter," Phil said, concentrating on Cal, and not on the car which was possibly being nudged back. "You're a family man."

"Who is _sick_ of you sticking your nose in our business!" Cal snapped, shoving against the vehicle with more force.

"It was your devotion to them that made you willing to do those terrible things all those years ago, wasn't it?"

"Shut up!"

"Nightmarish acts of violence that you didn't want to commit, did you?" Cal was shaking his head, still pushing. "Your wife made you do it."

"You don't know her! You don't know _anything_. Say one more word and I'll—"

"I'm not saying your wife is a monster, Cal," Phil said, stepping closer. "I think you already know she's a monster." Skye's father looked at him with such despair that Phil legitimately wanted to hug him. "What I'm saying… is you're not. I know you've thought so for a long time. But deep down you're a good man." Cal snorted and looked away, giving the car another token shove. "I believe that. I _do_." He reached out gingerly, and touched Cal's chest. "You got a big heart full of love."

"Stop!" Cal hissed, but he didn't break Phil's arm, so that was a plus.

"You wear it on your sleeve. Skye got that from—"

"Stop talking!" Phil bit his lip and stayed silent. "You…"

"Said your words?" Phil finished. Cal's eyes widened, and he nodded slowly. "You said mine before." He raised his left sleeve and showed off the two sentences written on separate lines below his wrist. "Your writing?"

"Yeah," Cal said. There were tears in his eyes; hopefully good tears. "Phil…"

"You're a good man," Phil repeated. "I know that. When we first met you helped me save Trip. I know." He held up his hands. "Not exactly the best way, but you helped. I know that everything you've done was to help Skye."

"I wanted to put my family back together," Cal mumbled. "Jiaying had a good heart. She did. But Whitehall _ripped _it out of her."

"He's dead now," Phil said. "I don't regret shooting him. He would've killed you, and then where would we be?" Cal glared at him half-heartedly. "Will you do anything to protect Skye, even if that includes protecting her from her mother? She's… she's not my daughter, but she's as close to family as I've got, and I _will_ save her, no matter the cost."

"I guess you were destined to be her family," Cal said. "Our… family?"

"I'd like that," Phil murmured.

With a strong push, Cal shoved the vehicle and battering ram away. Phil nearly jumped out of his skin, and then cleared his throat.

"You gonna keep your head now?" he asked.

"I'd better," Cal said. "It'd be awkward if you had to lock up your soulmate."

"True."

"Soulmate." He grinned. "Best. Day. _Ever_."

* * *

Phil turned away from the window. Andrew raised his eyebrows.

"You ready to talk about it?"

"About what?" Phil asked, challenging him to say it.

"Your arm."

He only had one fist to clench in agitation now. Phil stared down at his partial limb. The amputation may have saved his life, but Mack had cut right through the middle of Phil's soulmark. All it said now was 'This is what I was missing'. Cal didn't know; he'd been mourning his wife and preparing to be… imprisoned, or so he thought.

"Not yet," Phil said, in answer to Andrew's question. "I'm looking into some options. I'd rather hear your evaluation of my team. Did you manage to get a read on Bobbi?"

Andrew half-smiled. "I get pretty straight answers with morphine in the mix." Which was saying a hell of a lot. "You convinced Mack not to quit."

"Yeah, well, he kind of owed me after cutting off my hand without asking," Phil replied flippantly. If he didn't use humour, he'd crack. Andrew knew that, and didn't comment.

"He respects you," the doctor said. "But he still holds a deep distrust of all the alien artefacts you've encountered…"

* * *

Skye approached the vet surgery, smiling when she saw her father greeting a golden labrador. Or retriever. Not like she'd ever had a pet, so…

"Can I help you?" he asked, straightening up as the dog and its human headed inside.

"Just passing by," Skye said. "Nice place."

"Oh, thanks!" He brightened. "Well, we're just getting up and running. It's gonna be a _magical_ place one we get totally moved in." Funny. Coulson used to call Tahiti a 'magical place'. Okay, he was brainwashed to do it, but it was still interesting that Cal used the same phrase. "You know, we already have adoption days every Saturday. Tell your friends. Free spaying and neutering, too. Just ask for Dr. Winslow." He shook his head, still grinning. "I'm sorry. And you are…?"

"Daisy."

Something seemed to flick across his face. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

"That's a lovely name," he said. "Remember, a house is not a home without a pet." He glanced past her, and she gave Coulson a small wave. He nodded back. "You know him? Guy with the sling?"

"Yeah. He… can't drive at the moment, so I'm his chauffeur. He doesn't trust many people with his car."

"I can see why," Cal said. His smile became a wicked smirk. "Is he your brother?"

"What?" Skye's eyes bugged out. "Oh my God, Da…" She cleared her throat. "He's, uh, not my brother."

"You nearly said 'Dad'."

"Yeah. He's… he's my dad."

"Lucky girl," he said. Oh God, he was actually _checking Coulson out_. "He's cute. Next time you're passing by, make sure you bring him."

Then he winked at her, and disappeared back into the vet surgery. In a daze, Skye drifted back to the car, trying to work out what to say. Coulson seemed completely oblivious to what had been happening.

"Thanks for doing that for him," Skye said, resting against the car. "I know aspects of the TAHITI program don't sit well with you."

"This does," Coulson said.

"He has a lot to give," she continued. "And now a way to give it."

"And what about you?" he asked. "Are you ready to refocus your e—?"

"He's your soulmate," she said, interrupting him. "And you've just let him go like that. I know… you think it's what's best for him—"

"It is," he said, even though he wasn't looking at her. "He deserves a second chance, Skye. I gave him that. He doesn't have to live with everything he did."

"But he won't remember you," she said.

"Will he want to remember?"

"How is he supposed to know?"

"Look, Skye," he said, and he walked around to the passenger side of the car. They both slid in, and she looked at him, refusing to drive until they'd discussed this. "He's your father, and he came through for us. He's my soulmate, just as big a connection, only in a different way."

"A non-platonic way," she said.

He coughed, cheeks turning pink. "Well, I guess we'll never know about that… aspect."

"DC—"

"Skye, you're our resident expert on people with powers," he said. She scowled at him. "You're the only one on the list right now, but we're taking it slow."

"Sir—"

"I can't talk about this, Skye!" He sighed. "I waited a long time to find my soulmate, and the circumstances when I found him were less than ideal. And maybe… maybe we had to be soulmates so that we could stop Jiaying from killing all of SHIELD. Maybe that's what our soulmateship was for. Or maybe…" He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe one day we'll meet again, and we'll get a second chance."

"And if he remembers who you are then?" Skye said, starting up the car.

"…He tried to kill me at least once. We'll call it square."

"I don't see it being platonic," she said, pulling out into the traffic.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because 'Dr. Winslow' thinks you're cute, and that next time I'm passing by, I should bring you along. Then he winked." She snickered when she noticed his shocked expression. "I'm serious. He asked if you were my brother – I should probably feel insulted, but he was indirectly flirting with you – and I told him that you're my father. Just a heads-up."

"_Skye_…"

"If you married it would totally be true, don't deny it!"

Coulson buried his face in his hands.

* * *

_Fifteen years later_

"Okay, okay," Skye said, rolling her eyes. "It's Saturday, so you can have ice cream. Of course, I would've thought you'd prefer a _puppy_, but…"

Her kids gasped as they looked up at her. Lenny and Gemma both looked a lot more like their father, who was 'mysteriously absent' (i.e. buying a dog kennel).

"We're getting a _puppy_?" Gemma squealed. Lenny shushed her.

"Well, you're always asking for a dog," Skye said, shrugging. "I heard they have adoptions on Saturdays. If you'd prefer a cat or a bird or… I don't know, a goldfish…"

"Maybe the base needs a new aquarium," Phil said. Three-year-old Linda was on her 'granddaddy's' hip, sucking her thumb as she looked around shyly.

"Puppy, puppy, puppy!" Gemma insisted. Lenny nodded eagerly, and Skye grinned as she ushered her kids into the vet surgery.

There he was. Still going, although the grey had spread past his temples.

"Good morning!" Cal said cheerfully, bounding over to them with the same old energy.

"Hi," Skye said. "We're here to adopt?"

He looked Phil over with a small smile. "You and your…?"

"This is Grampa!" Lenny said.

"My husband's busy at the, uh, hardware store," Skye said.

"You look like dog people," Cal said. "Am I right?"

"Puppy!" Gemma said.

"Well, let's head on out back, then." He held out a hand, and Gemma latched on. Cal led the children through, followed by Skye, Phil bringing up the rear. The kids ran forward, and Phil handed Linda to her mother so they could look, too. He lingered beside Cal.

"Do you enjoy your job?" he asked.

"I certainly do," Cal replied. "I love fixing things, bringing people together."

"Bringing families together."

"That's right. A family like yours. Got a wife?"

"…No," Phil said. "She, uh, she's not my biological daughter. Just feels like it. Do… do _you_ have a family?"

"Nah," Cal said. "Feels like something's missing. `Til I find it…" He smiled sadly, and Phil's breath caught.

"You got a big heart full of love," he murmured.

"…What?"

"In a job like this, y-you'd have to." _Shit_, Phil thought, and he looked away. What the hell made him say _that_? Cal was staring at him, and he turned slowly to face Phil. He reached out and touched Phil's arm.

"This is what I was missing," he said. Phil couldn't tear his gaze away.

"You said my soul words," he said, voice breaking on 'soul'.

"You said mine," Cal replied. He smiled widely. "Can I see yours? Mine involves removing my shirt…"

Phil ducked his head, feeling his cheeks heat up. "Yeah. Hang on a sec…"

He tugged his left sleeve up. Cal's breath hitched when he saw the metal of Phil's high-tech hand and wrist. Just at the edge of it were the words 'This is what I was missing', all that remained after Mack saved his life. Phil flexed his hand, and shivered when Cal touched the mark.

"Did that hurt—?"

"No, no," he said quickly. "Tickles. It… you couldn't hurt me."

"I'd _never_ hurt you," Cal said fiercely. "You're my soulmate."

"Dad?" Skye said. They both looked at her, and her eyes widened. "…Oh."

"My number," Phil said, pulling out a business card and tucking it into the pocket of Cal's lab coat. "Maybe when I've taken the kids home I can…"

"There's an ice cream place at the end of the road," Cal said. "Best gelato in Wisconsin."

Phil smiled. "I'd like that," he said.

* * *

**I was thinking about this chapter on the way home on the bus, and got stuck into it PDQ. I was going to stop at Phil and Skye leaving Cal behind, but decided that I couldn't do that. Had to have a happy ending.**

**Please review! Yes, the kids are obscurely named after Fitz (Lenny, short for Leonard, not Leopold), Simmons (Gemma, duh), and May (Linda, from Melinda).**


	98. Not Staying Put (Brock x Sam)

**Note: Canon-divergent from mid-'Cap 2'.**

"Not Staying Put"

It felt so wrong to see Captain America being arrested, ten times worse than being arrested alongside him, and with Natasha potentially injured. But Sam dutifully went with his new friends as the corrupt HYDRA-SHIELD agents rounded them up, keeping an eye on them. He had the fewest issues out of the three, to be honest.

"Why, Rumlow?" Steve said as the leader of STRIKE shoved him into the van beside Sam. "Why would you go with _HYDRA_? Choose them over us?"

"I saw the way forward, and went with the flow," Rumlow said. "Order comes from pain, Rogers. That's the way of the world."

"You must be one hell of a masochist," Sam muttered to him.

Rumlow pinned him with a hard-to-read expression, his eyes hard and assessing. Sam tried not to squirm in his seat, but it was unnerving. Even Steve seemed perplexed by Rumlow's silent response.

Only… _not_ so silent.

"If you know what's good for you, _sweetheart_, you'll stay put," he said in clipped tones.

Oh shit. It couldn't be.

…Well, that explained Rumlow's reaction. Sam's heart stopped beating for about ten seconds, as he held his breath. The door slamming closed kick-started everything, and he had to remind himself of every piece of advice he gave people going through panic attacks to avoid going into meltdown.

"Sam, what's wrong?" Steve asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing. Guy gave me the creeps, that's all."

"Of course," Natasha said. "We've both worked with him before, but you've never met him, so you've never seen…"

"The façade he presented," Steve said. "Being all friendly with the snark and the banter, only to turn out to be _HYDRA_ the whole fucking time!"

"Language," Sam said absently. "Swearing doesn't solve problems."

"Makes me feel better," Steve muttered. Natasha patted him on the knee, then winced.

"Let me check you over for injuries," Sam said. The guard with them tensed, and released the safety on his firearm. A pretty clear warning. "Come on, man, she's hurt, can't you tell?"

"It could be an act."

"D'you wanna risk that?"

The man shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me if she dies. One less problem to deal with."

Sam could tell that Steve wanted to strangle the man, or put his head straight through the wall of the van, but they couldn't risk it. Not with HYDRA agents driving the vehicle, and others front and back. He shook his head, and Steve's jaw tightened as he stayed put.

'Stay put.' Like that was gonna happen. First chance they had to run, Sam was going with them. He wasn't staying to find out whether Brock Rumlow was his soulmate.

So when Maria Hill gave them an out and took them to a secret base, Sam went, and debated over telling Steve. In the end, 'honesty is the best policy' won out.

"I think Rumlow might be my soulmate," he said, when all their planning was over. The rest of them fell quiet and watched him. "I don't know what it means, but I've got your back. You know that. When I work it out, how we can use that against him, or at least for us, I'll let you know. Until then, I've gotta tell myself it was just a fluke. That he knew my words and wanted to throw me off, or try to recruit me. Not gonna happen, obviously, but I wanted you to know. If it turns out that he _is_ my soulmate, and I'd kept it from you…" He trailed off, letting them figure it out.

"It would look suspicious," Natasha said.

"More like I'd hate to lose your trust, but we'll go with that, too. And if he's my soulmate… don't hesitate to put him down if he poses a threat."

"We can't do that," Steve said. The others looked at him incredulously, and Sam frowned, but the captain shook his head. "If he's your soulmate, Sam – and I have no doubt that you'd never betray us – then it's possible he could fight for us. Even just once would be enough, and more than we could've expected before you spoke to him. I used to like the guy, thought he could maybe one day be a friend, and while I wouldn't have given him the benefit of the doubt five minutes ago… that you might be his soulmate gives me hope. So I'll give him a second chance."

"And we'll take him out in a split second if he turns against us," Natasha added.

"If I'm the only one who can do it when the time comes, don't let me hesitate," Sam said.

"Understood," Fury replied. "Now let's get to work."

* * *

Brock had been quietly stewing in cold fury ever since they opened the van doors and found that Rogers, Romanov, and… Sam had escaped.

He didn't wait, even when Brock had asked him to. The words could've been considered threatening, but he hadn't had much time to think of something unique to say that would sound innocuous to anyone else listening.

Well, this was annoying. He paced in the corridor, waiting, trying to work out what to do. He couldn't leave HYDRA, that was obvious. They couldn't stop Project Insight, not after all these months of planning, and not just because Brock asked nicely for the sake of his possible soulmate.

Not 'possible', not really. He'd been able to find handwritten files from the VA, which just confirmed the writing of his soulmark. He'd been elated to realise that he was right, before remembering that his soulmate had _escaped_, damn well left him behind. Brock should've gone in that van, but considering the state the guards had been left in… it was just as well. Otherwise he'd never get a chance to talk to Sam.

Sam. Who volunteered to work with returned veterans. Maybe if Brock had gone to those kind of group meetings, he would've done things differently. Not sided with HYDRA in the first place. If he'd met Sam earlier, even by just a week, he could've maybe… told Fury or something. About Project Insight and HYDRA. Because it was pretty damn clear that Sam was on Captain America's side, and as long as Brock stayed with HYDRA, he had no chance with his soulmate.

But what could he do? Everything had to go ahead as planned, there was no way around it. If Brock tried to do anything, he'd end up dead. After being involved in the arrest of Captain Freaking America, he'd probably be killed on sight by anyone loyal to SHIELD, or at least to Steve Rogers. Well, 'probably' was better than 'definitely', at least.

"Time to wipe the Asset," Rollins muttered, and he patted Rumlow on the back. "Your turn as guard. See you later. I need coffee."

"All of you go on ahead," Brock said, his mind working fast. "He seems more docile than usual. Easy to handle."

"Right you are, boss." Rollins herded the others like sheep, and Brock entered the room when the others got there, looking on unsurely as they pushed Barnes into the chair.

This… could be his chance. He _knew_ Rogers had recognised Barnes, and even if he hadn't, he would when Brock brought him forward. Wherever Rogers was, he'd be on the lookout for the Winter Soldier for killing Nick Fury (assuming the man really was dead, which he probably wasn't; no matter how good the Asset was, Nick Fury was Nick Fury, enough said). If Brock took care of Barnes, freed him and kept him close, he stood a chance at getting into his soulmate's good graces. Hell, he'd kill anyone Sam wanted him to if it meant…

He clenched his fists as Barnes mumbled something about knowing the man who'd called him 'Bucky'.

That did it. Rogers recognised him. This was definitely Brock's one chance.

About twenty seconds later – according to the fact that the machine was nearly warmed up – he realised that everyone else in the room, sans Barnes, was on the ground, dead or unconscious, most of them bleeding from somewhere. Barnes stared at him, wide-eyed, and Brock held out his hand.

"Come with me," he said. "They won't hurt you again."

"Where?"

What else could he say? "To find answers."

The Asset – not quite Bucky Barnes yet – watched him for a few seconds, way too long for Brock's comfort, before nodding, and taking his hand. Brock pressed a weapon into it, grabbed his other one, and then they tore through the facility, taking out anyone in their way, until they ran out through the front door. Well, who'd anticipate him doing that when the other escapes were more logical?

"I have no idea how to find who we're looking for," he confessed to Barnes. "I think they'll find us, though. If not, we just keep heading for the Triskelion."

"…The what?"

"Let's just go. I'm kinda making this up as I go along."

"Oh."

"I know. Fun, right?"

"I…" He looked around, lost but determined. Brock's spirits rose. "I have an idea."

* * *

Three guns were aimed at him. Brock raised his hands.

"Don't shoot me," he said dryly. His gaze darted to and fro, searching for Sam, but there was no sign of him.

"Are you handing yourself in?" Steve asked.

"If necessary. I brought a friend, if that's okay?"

"No, it's n…" Brock jerked his head, and Barnes crept to his side. "Bucky? Is that…?"

"He doesn't know," Brock said when it was obvious Barnes wasn't going to reply. "I told him you could give him some answers. I don't know everything that happened to him. But this probably isn't the best place to discuss it? Y'know, out in the open?"

"Did you do this just to see a guy who _might_ be your soulmate?" Hill asked.

"Yes," he said without hesitation. She and Romanov looked at each other, which was reckless, because Rogers couldn't take his eyes off Barnes.

"As reasons to defect go…" Romanov trailed off, and glanced at Brock, who looked back at her with wide, innocent eyes. "It's not so bad."

"Nobler than most," Hill agreed. Rogers looked from Brock to Bucky, and moved back.

"Come in," he said. "Rumlow, you can't see Sam until he agrees to it."

"I expected that," Brock said. "Can't say it isn't frustrating, seeing as I broke Barnes out of a heavily-guarded HYDRA facility to get him to you, in case you let me see… But if I was in your position, I'd be cautious, too."

"Did HYDRA follow you here?" Romanov asked.

"Not that I noticed, and I didn't lead the way. Barnes found you; I just followed him, kept him out of trouble."

"Thanks," Rogers said grudgingly. "You don't know what this means…"

"No, I don't. If someone could tell Sam that I'm here…?"

"Already done," Hill said. "You can wait in our guest room for now."

No prizes for guessing that the 'guest room' was a prison cell. Just as long as Brock saw Sam in the end, he didn't care where they put him.

Counting the seconds, he estimated that it was seven minutes before he heard footsteps, trapped in a window-less room. The vents were nowhere near big enough for anyone to squeeze through – sucks to be you, Barton – and if he'd fallen asleep he'd have no clue what time of day it was. So it was just as well he wasn't left alone for all that long. The footsteps stopped outside the door, and he walked over to it, hoping for something.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Hey."

"Sam?"

"That'd be me."

"…I'd show you my soulmark, but I doubt they're gonna let us see each other. I said your words, didn't I?"

"Uh-huh. Wait a sec." A slit opened in the door, and a piece of paper and a blunt pencil were pushed through to drop on the floor. Brock fell on them, the portal in the door closing before he could see anything more than the dark flash of an arm. "Write something."

"What'd I say to…? Oh, I remember." He wrote it in his best handwriting… then reconsidered, and wrote the same thing below in his usual fast script. He tapped on the door, the hole opened, and he returned the stuff. "Wasn't sure whether it'd be my neatest writing, or what I usually use."

"I'll be back after I get this—"

"Wait!" Brock slid to the ground against the door. "Sam?"

"…Yeah?"

"Stay with me? I feel better when you're nearby, and I'm betting you'd feel the same."

"I can't—"

"Sam, please. You don't know how much I wish things were different. The way HYDRA gets to you…"

He heard footsteps retreating, and pulled his knees up to his chest, bowing his head to touch them as he sighed. But then the footsteps returned. There was a loud exhalation, then the slight pressure of someone else leaning against the door. A soft thump, and he was sure Sam was mirroring his position on the other side.

"You said order comes from pain," Sam said. "What'd they do to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"They hurt you. That's why I said what I did, about you liking pain."

"Oh." Brock shrugged, even though Sam couldn't see it. "I was one of those kids who acted up in school and got the cane on the legs as punishment. I straightened out, but it didn't come easy. Became what the military wanted, then what HYDRA wanted."

"What about what you wanted, Brock?"

That bolstered his heart, hearing Sam say his name. "Say that again?"

There was a pause, and then an amused, "Brock."

He rested his head back against the door. "Didn't know what I wanted when I was just a punk kid. After I started getting better grades but still didn't show enough respect to authority… the 'authority' didn't deserve respect, not where I went, but that's another story. The system sent me to military school, so I got no choice. HYDRA made their goals sound reasonable."

"World peace doesn't come from war," Sam said. "Beauty doesn't come from pain, unless you're into sadomasochism. Happy people are more beautiful. It's part of your spirit, not the torture you've put yourself through."

"…No one's ever said anything like that to me before."

"If they had—"

"Yeah." He bumped the back of his head against the door. "If."

"You… you have another chance, Brock."

"Tell me what to do."

"Even if something puts me in the line of fire?"

"Sam—!"

"We're bringing HYDRA down, with or without you. At least if you're there, fighting on _our_ side, we stand a hell of a better chance. But I need to know that you're gonna follow orders, whatever Steve or Natasha or Maria or I tell you to do. You can't go off and do your own thing just to save me if it looks like I'm in danger. You have to trust that I know what I'm doing, and focus on taking out the threats we can't deal with. I've seen you in battle. You could turn the tide in our favour. Brock?"

"Okay," he said. "I'll… do what you tell me."

"Since most of the orders will consist of 'go there and protect those people' or 'go there and stop that bad person', I think it'll be pretty easy for you to follow."

Brock chuckled half-heartedly.

* * *

They stopped the Helicarriers without interference, and most of the HYDRA agents were brought down. It wasn't easy, but it was a hell of a lot easier than waiting outside a hospital room while Sam was being tended to. Nothing life-threatening, mostly thanks to his wings being targeted, and Natasha had been there to save him from the worst of it. It was his wings that took the worst of it, but they still did some damage, which was being treated.

Brock and Sam weren't even bonded, and this was damn near killing him.

"Thanks again," Steve said, squinting at Brock through almost-closed eyes, one arm around Barnes, who was curled up beside him and snoozing. Probably the first real sleep he'd had in seventy years. "You did good today."

"He's the best motivation in the world," he said, glancing at the door. "When will—"

"When they come tell us," Hill said. "Sit down before you make us dizzy, Rumlow."

"But—"

"You're no good to Sam if you pass out from exhaustion," Romanov mumbled, an icepack on her forehead to ward off a headache. "Don't you want to see him as soon as you're allowed to?"

It was a valid point. Brock didn't sit near the others – he wouldn't be welcome – and tried to keep still. Less than twenty-four hours ago, Brock had met his soulmate, found out they were on opposite sides – Brock's handwriting had been confirmed – defected from HYDRA, and was now hoping that his soulmate would live long enough for… something. Not bonding; he couldn't see Sam wanting that with Brock. But maybe get to be friends? Platonic was better than nothing.

"You can go in now."

He looked up and saw that the nurse was watching him. He glanced at the others, and Romanov walked to his side.

"I'll go with you," she said.

"Maybe I shouldn't—"

"You're his soulmate. Get in there. Now."

Blinking at the demand, Brock hurried into the room and to Sam's side, nervous. His soulmate was still out for the count, but the doctors said his vitals were improving, and that after he woke up he'd be monitored for twelve hours, then released into Brock's care.

"We haven't bonded," he said. "We only met yesterday."

"You're his soulmate," the doctor replied. "Since you've met him, it's policy for us to hand him over to you. Once you're out of the hospital, it's up to the two of you."

"We'll make sure he's safe," Romanov said.

Brock didn't reply. He knew he'd be leaving as soon as they set foot outside the hospital doors. It was for the best, for Sam.

But for now, he'd hold his soulmate's hand.

* * *

"Damn, I feel almost like new again," Sam remarked, heaving himself out of the wheelchair at the pick-up zone. "Whoever said hospitals were bad places?"

"Says the man involved with the medical industry," Brock said. "Wait with Natasha. I'll take the wheelchair back while Cap gets the car.

"Okay," Sam said. "Don't take too long."

Brock touched his hand, and didn't reply, but he was kind of quiet anyway. Steve and Natasha had told him that Brock was a good commander, could be considered the best of them, certainly the younger agents. That he could be friendly, and wasn't usually this taciturn. Then again, maybe this was the real him, the one not designed to deceive.

They waited. Steve brought the car around, and still they waited. Sam had a sinking feeling in his gut, and refused to get into the car.

"Don't be ridiculous," Steve snapped. "You're still recovering."

"What if he's hurt?" Sam asked.

Natasha rifled through Sam's overnight bag, and pulled out a creased piece of paper. She handed it over, and Sam scowled when he read the contents.

"That asshole says I'm better off without him," he said, handing the note to Steve.

"He's not wrong," Natasha said. Sam turned his glare on her, and she actually flinched.

"He's my _soulmate_," he hissed. "Don't you think it'd aid my recovery if he was at my side? I've never recovered this quickly before. And we gave him a second chance. Did you really think it only lasted a couple of days, when he _proved_ himself in battle at our side? Doesn't the word 'forgiveness' mean anything to you?"

She didn't answer that. Steve touched Sam's shoulder.

"We'll find him," he said. "Just get in the car. I have an idea."

* * *

Brock struggled against a strong hold, like a steel band around his chest. He couldn't cry out, and realised what was holding him.

"Sorry, but captains outrank sergeants," Bucky Barnes said. "You're coming with me."

* * *

Sam raised his eyebrows when Brock glared at him across the room.

"Hey," Sam said. "You don't run from me like that again, hear? You got a problem, you talk to me about it."

"I was trying to—"

"And no deciding what's best for me." He smiled. "I already feel better with you here."

Brock bowed his head, shuffled in place. "`Cause we're soulmates."

"Pretty sure if we bonded, I'd heal even faster."

"…What?" He looked up, sure he'd misheard.

"Just a suggestion. We don't have to." Sam tilted his head, his eyebrows drawing together. "I'm sorry. But your letter sounded kinda self-sacrificing, like you wanted to stay, but thought _I_ wouldn't want you around."

"Not just you," Brock muttered.

"D'you think I care about what other people say? _You're my soulmate_, not them." He stood up with a wince, and Brock itched to jump to his side, but he was sure they were being watched, and any sudden movements…

"You should stay there," he said. "You've only just gotten out of hospital."

"Actually, it's been a week," Sam said, his voice tight. "I would've been better by now if you'd _been_ here, with me."

"Sam—"

"I tried to give you a chance. Won't you give _me_ a chance?"

"A… a chance to—?"

"To get to know you. So we can put the past behind us… maybe bond one day?"

He swallowed. "More than I deserve."

"Yeah, for now. But you'll earn it." Sam grinned. "I know you will."

"With you as the prize?" Brock looked him over, smiling slowly. "You bet, sweetheart."

* * *

**I like the word 'sweetheart'. It makes me think of the letter 'e'. (Cryptic crossword thing.)**

**Okay, SORRY I haven't posted in awhile! I've gotten stuck on a few different chapters, and one up them is nearly 10 000 words so far, with more to go. Sigh.**

**I don't think anyone's requested this pairing. I was thinking about it on the bus one day (I can't read while I'm on the bus, so I need something to do), and thought it'd be nifty if Sam and Brock realised they were soulmates after Sam, Natasha, and Steve were arrested, and instead of staying put like Brock asked, Sam still escaped with the others, and things went from there. I guess the implication is that Bucky and Steve are soulmates, platonic or otherwise? Because they both say 'I have an idea', and Bucky is willing to kidnap Brock. But then he knows where Brock would be, because he's the Winter Soldier. Duh.**

**Please review! Ooh, I'm thinking about doing a Tumblr site devoted to Bucky/Phil, and any additions to that ship. Calling it 'Arm and Arm', because I'm terribly macabre like that. In case you hadn't noticed. Anyone else think it's a good idea?**


	99. Six Songs (Bucky x Jemma, Phil x Steve)

**Note: Spoilers for 'Age of Ultron' and 'Cap 2'. A 5+1 fic, because of reasons.**

"Six Songs"

_One_

Steve had always listened to music. But it was easier now that he had FRIDAY to help him find whatever he was looking for, and set up play-lists for when he was in certain moods. His iPod (which gave Tony a twitch in his eye, a definite bonus) was packed with the same play-lists, and could be updated remotely by FRIDAY.

However, his collection was eclectic, and some of the songs were… unexpected, at least to the other Avengers. Ever since Bucky moved in and joined the team, he'd become the go-to person for interpreting the strange behaviour of Steve Rogers. He suspected that Steve was the go-to person for explaining Bucky, so it was only fair that he answer their questions when he could.

"Seriously," Rhodey said, nodding to where Steve was jiving along to 'Red Right Hand' while he made an apple pie. "That song? I would've thought—"

"Lovey-dovey golden oldies?" Bucky asked, ever amused by the preconceived notions the Avengers had of Captain America. "Not exactly the best way to move forward."

"But it's a creepy song."

"I think the hand thing reminds him of me," Bucky said, flexing his left hand. Rhodey winced sympathetically.

"Sorry. Didn't think of that," he admitted.

"Probably also likes the simplicity of the tune and the way it contrasts with the country-style accompaniment, the sort of… what-do-you-call-it. Anachronism; knew it started with an 'a'." Rhodey stared at him. "What?"

"Nothin'," Rhodey said. "See ya later, Bucky."

* * *

_Two_

"I could stare at that forever," Darcy said, watching the way Steve's hips swung in time with his dipping shoulders. "Yummy. Pity he's stuck in the past half the time, and I'm an all-modern girl."

"Yeah, pity," Bucky said.

"But why _this_ song? Wouldn't have pictured Captain America dancing to this. Or, before you say it, Steve Rogers. He just… doesn't seem the type."

Steve sang along to the oh-oh-ohs, waving one arm while the other held a pretend microphone. Sometimes Bucky suspected he was playing it up for the crowd, probably left over from the days of selling war bonds with the USO girls… not the time.

"Hey, Steve!" Darcy called over the music. Shamelessly, Steve grinned over his shoulder, and then turned slowly. Bucky noticed the way her gaze dropped back down to his hips, and she licked her lips. "So. _Do_ you wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy?"

"If I knew who that way, I probably would!" he replied, and he went back to singing along with 'Tik Tok'.

* * *

_Three_

"Okay, who introduced Cap to _Avenue Q_?" Clint asked.

"He asked FRIDAY to tell him some of the albums you all listen to," Bucky said, "so it wouldn't disturb you so much if he happened to be listening to any of it while you were around. You know what this is from, so I presume it's one of _your_ albums?"

Clint blushed, and cleared his throat. "Broadway has some excellent music, I'll have you know."

"Not saying it doesn't. I listen to _Wicked_ at least three times a week."

"Yeah… but Steve is listening to 'Schadenfreude'."

Bucky frowned. "He's not allowed to like anything written before nineteen forty-five, or with a German name?"

"No! I'm not sayin' that, Bucky. It's just weird to hear Captain America singing… well…"

"_Fuck you, lady, that's what stairs are for_!" Steve sang, pointing at the elevator. Clint dropped his head into his hands.

"Please tell me he hasn't listened to the album of _The Full Monty_?" he begged.

"Isn't that the one with 'The Goods'? `Cause yeah, he finds that one _hilarious_."

"Shit. I corrupted Captain America musically."

Bucky patted him on the head.

* * *

_Four_

Pietro sped right into Bucky, sending both of them sprawling to their asses. Bucky scowled at him.

"What's the rush, kiddo?" he asked.

"Went to talk to Steve after his workout," Pietro said, shaking his head as he got to his feet. Bucky stood as well, and crossed his arms, his glare encouraging Pietro to continue. "H-he was jerking off in the shower."

"…Huh. Thought he kept that to the bedroom."

"_What_?"

"He's not the only one around here with super senses," Bucky muttered. "So you caught him beating one off. Problem…?"

"He was singing along to music while he did it!" Pietro said, waving his arms in his dramatic European fashion. "Who does that?"

Bucky blinked. "Okay, I can understand listening to music, but singing along to it while…? That's one I haven't heard before. What was the song?"

Pietro shrugged. FRIDAY answered for him.

"'I Touch Myself', by the Divinyls," she said.

"I bet you do, you saucy minx," Bucky said, winking at the ceiling. "Yeah, sounds like the right kinda song for that. Forget about it, kiddo."

Pietro was muttering something like 'How can I ever forget _that_?' to himself as he shuffled along. Bucky just chuckled as he headed to the kitchen. Steve would be extra-hungry by the time he'd finished. May as well make some sandwiches.

* * *

_Five_

Steve was in the room usually kept for the Hulk's tantrums, where old scrap metal could be beaten up. They all had bad days, but not everyone could smash steel outta shape. Steve was giving it the good ol' college try, though, judging by the footage Tony shoved in Bucky's face.

"Explain," he said.

"I'm still the Steve-opaedia?" Bucky quipped.

"It's wrong to see Captain America depressed. It's even more wrong to see Steve Apple Pie Rogers depressed, and singing metal."

"Appropriate, seein' as how he's beatin' up a lotta metal right now," Bucky said, trying to step past. Tony moved in front of him and frowned.

"I'm… concerned, okay?" he asked. "There. I said it."

"What's he singin'?" Bucky said, seeing that he wasn't going anywhere until Tony got his way. Goddamn Starks. Tony raised the volume, and Bucky could hear Steve singing the chorus, punctuating each note or bar with a hammer to a sheet of metal.

"_I. Hate. Everything about you! Why. Do I love you_?" Steve was sort of speak-singing, not sing-singing. Bucky winced, and he knew what this was about.

"We knew your dad," he said. Tony's face closed up.

"I know," he said tightly.

"They were soulmates, Steve and Howard."

"…No. That's impossible. What the _hell_? Shit! Why didn't he say…?"

Bucky sighed. "Couldn't really tell anyone, `cause they only had the one soulmark each, which usually meant non-platonic, and… it was the forties, and the army, and Steve wouldn't have minded only your dad had his company, and he needed an heir. So he taunted Steve by hittin' on Peggy, who Steve was half-sweet on…"

"Like a goddamned soap opera," Tony said, running an agitated hand through his short, scruffy hair.

"You know the rest of the story," Bucky said, shrugging. "Clearly they never got to be together. But after Steve went down… I hear Howard never stopped looking for him?"

"Never shut up about him, either," Tony said. "Makes a whole lot more sense now."

"Maybe give him less crap about it? It's hard, especially since soulmarks don't die, just fade. He has to see it on the inside of his knee every time he sees his leg. On the bad days he hammers it out, `cause he lost his chance. I mean, we wouldn't have you, `less your mom was a surrogate or somethin'. Heh. Can you imagine me as Uncle Bucky?"

"I'm gonna try not to. Shit."

"Language."

Tony glared at him. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. I've just found out my dad and Captain America were soulmates, and they got the tragic end of the deal."

"Add to that…"

"Add to that what?"

Bucky chewed his lower lip before replying. "When he woke up, he didn't know he had a new soulmark until after his new soulmate died. He hasn't gotten a new one since."

"…Oh. Does he know who it was?"

He nodded. "Some guy named Coulson. That the one you talk about sometimes?"

"Agent Coulson? Agent Cap-Fanboy Coulson was his soulmate?"

"An' he didn't find out until `bout a week after it. He didn't feel the soulmark form, and of course he didn't feel it fade. So thinkin' about Howard makes him think about Coulson, and losin' _both_ his soulmates. Just… cut him some slack on days like this, yeah? And for Christ's sake, no more questioning his musical choices, huh? He's allowed to listen to whatever he wants to."

Tony raised his hands in surrender. "Can we question your musical choices, at least? We need to get our kicks from somewhere."

"So long as you leave Stevie alone, do whatever the hell you want."

* * *

_Plus one_

"People of his age should _not_ be singing Disney while beating things up," Natasha remarked, watching Bucky rhythmically decimate another reinforced punching bag.

"I don't know why we like _Frozen_ so much," Steve said, frowning where they were watching from the other side of the glass. "Considering our history with… cold things. But I think it helps. The lighter stuff, anyway."

During 'Do You Wanna Build a Snowman?', the part of the song where the parents' ship sank, Bucky grabbed the bag and held on, resting his forehead against the tough leather. His heaving chest was visible from the window, and Steve was pretty sure his friend was fighting back tears. Uncomfortable, he turned his back on the scene and nearly bumped into a group of people. Two young women were at the front, the darker-skinned one raising her eyebrows and the other staring past Steve to watch Bucky.

"C-can we help you?" Steve asked, fighting the urge to scratch the back of his neck.

"Yeah," said the first girl. "You're Captain Rogers, right?"

"Uh-huh?"

"I'm Skye. This is Simmons, Fitz, Hunter, and Mack. We're here with our boss. He sent us down to find out what was keeping all of you?"

"You couldn't just ask FRIDAY to inform us that we were required elsewhere?" Natasha asked; a fair point.

"Not as much fun as seeing the training area for ourselves. Especially for the eye candy."

"Skye!" Simmons exclaimed. "Behave yourself."

"Yeah, `cause you _totally_ weren't staring at McHotterson over there."

Simmons blushed. Steve exchanged glances with Natasha, then checked on Bucky. He was looking at them, and casually waved. Skye waved back, and Simmons ducked her head. The three guys with them just looked bemused.

"Want me to introduce you?" Steve said. But then the music started again, and he sighed. "Or not. Maybe later?"

"Nah, might get busy later," Skye said. Natasha shrugged, and waved the others in ahead of her, her sharp eyes raking over each stranger as they filed past. Bucky was now kicking the bag between punches.

"_For the first time in forever, there'll be music, there'll be fun_," he was singing along, falling into a new rhythm with the song. Every single one of their visitors was ogling him, and Steve wondered if any of them were mated, and whether their soulmates minded. But what did he know about soulmates? He couldn't hold on to a single one.

Tightening his jaw, he walked into Bucky's line of sight.

"What is it, punk?" Bucky asked, still moving but no longer singing.

"Got some people to meet you," Steve said. Bucky glanced at the visitors over his shoulder, nodded, then went back to working out.

"What're they doing here?" he said.

"They're here with their boss," he replied. He felt antsy, like an itch at his soulmark, and wondered whether these kids were SHIELD. Whether thinking about it made him remember its founders, remember the representative who must've thought Steve wasn't interested when he didn't react to the agent's words. Or maybe Coulson's soulmark was generic, and Steve hadn't been original enough? He couldn't remember what he'd said to the agent, which was unnatural. He never blanked like that. Guilt?

"You're thinkin' too hard," Bucky said. "You're gonna get frown lines, old man."

"You were born before me," Steve reminded him.

"My point stands."

The song was nearing an end when Bucky stopped toying with the punching bag and retreated to the bench. He wiped himself off with a towel, threw it aside, and then moved back to the group, looking them over. Steve noticed the way his eyes lingered on the English girl, and fought a smile.

"Next one, FRIDAY?" Bucky said, taking a quick look at the ceiling.

"Your favourite," the AI replied. It felt weird having a female butler, like there was always a woman spying on them. For some reason, it didn't feel so weird when it was JARVIS. Steve kinda missed him. Huh. Maybe it was this feeling of safety which led him to having male soulmates, not female?

Introspections were a distraction. 'Let It Go' was on, and Bucky was half-smiling. He grabbed Natasha's hand and began to dance with her, and she smirked as he sang.

"Do you know _every_ Disney song ever written?" she asked. He shook his head. "Right. Change of partner."

Bucky laughed as she swung him towards the group. Steve swiftly passed him off to the girl Bucky had been eyeing, and her eyes widened.

"_Let the storm rage on_," Bucky sang, and he dipped her over his arm. "_The cold never bothered me anyway_."

"Now I'm wishing I watched more Disney, but we've been too busy," Simmons babbled. She clutched Bucky's arms when he almost dropped her, and he straightened up.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"…I can't remember. But you said my words. Sang them, rather."

"Let me see," he said. She pursed her lips.

"Not in public," she said. "Not where my mark is located."

That old Bucky Barnes charming grin emerged for the first time in… well, since the war, and Steve's heart lifted when he saw it.

"Better bring a chaperone with you, then," Bucky said, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. "You're the reason I've been listenin' to so much Disney, y'know."

"Huh," Steve said, meeting Natasha's eyes as Bucky and Simmons walked off, Skye trailing behind them. "That explains it, then."

"Boss man wants us back upstairs," Hunter said, and Steve noticed he was staring at his phone. "Let's go. He'll want to see both of you." He arched an eyebrow. "And you'll _definitely_ want to see him."

Back up at the common area, Steve saw Tony's pissed off expression and Fury's familiar figure, before he saw…

"Coulson?" he said.

"What the _fuck_?" Natasha said. Okay, he wasn't expecting that, but he was more concerned about the fact that _Phil Coulson_ was apparently still alive. Was it… was it Steve's fault that he'd stayed away? Shit. He hoped not. Three years of…

"Nice to see you again, Agent Romanov, Captain Rogers," he said, his voice even and his expression as mildly blank as Steve remembered. "We have a lot to discuss."

"Were you ever gonna tell us?" Steve asked. Coulson tilted his head.

"Eventually," he said. "Only if you needed me. SHIELD has helped you once, thanks to Nick and the Theta Protocol. I thought it was time to let you know—"

"We needed you!" Steve said, stepping forward. Coulson tensed, but didn't move back. "_I_ needed you."

Coulson's eyebrows drew together. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Steve's clenched his hands, inhaled deeply. "Don't soulmarks mean _anything_ to you?"

He knew that the others were probably reacting. He'd only told Bucky about his second soulmark, no one else. Coulson's gaze flicked away briefly.

"Could ask you the same question," he murmured. "We have work to do. Mr. Stark, if you can get past your personal hurt over this – and really, I have no idea why you'd care so damn much – maybe you can point us towards a good briefing room?"

Steve wasn't letting that go. When Coulson made the mistake of trying to pass him, Steve clamped a hand on the agent's arm and dragged him – gently – out of the room, ignoring the protests.

"Capt—"

"I hadn't seen my soulmark," Steve said, turning Coulson around and backing him up against the wall. "When we met. I didn't feel it form `cause I was on the ice, then I had no reason to look at my back. Wasn't until a couple weeks after you died… or whatever happened, when I was gettin' changed at the gym and someone said that it was grey, and asked what'd happened to you. Nearly killed me finding out I missed my second chance at a bonded soulmateship. So, if ya don't mind, could I maybe…" He trailed off, confidence deserting him when he remembered he was just a kid from Brooklyn, not an educated intelligence agent. "Uh. Convince you to…" He rubbed the back of his head and retreated. "Sorry. Forget it."

Before he could take more than a few steps, a hand grabbed him by the shirtfront and pulled him close.

"I won't need much convincing… Steve," Coulson said.

Steve smiled, and inclined his head.

* * *

"Definitely my handwriting," Bucky said, unable to drag his gaze from Jemma's lower back, in the small curve just above her buttocks. He restrained himself from tracing the letters of the words, though. Kind of amused that she had the lyrics of a Disney song as her soulmark. "But I'm bettin' you'll wanna see mine."

"Yes, please," Jemma said, turning around. He tried not to pout as she covered up again, and had to tell himself that he was a gentleman. A _gentleman_. Okay, a soldier and a former assassin, but still a gentleman to his soulmate.

When he realised what she'd said, he grinned, and then pulled his workout shirt off. Just below his navel was his soulmark, and he noticed that she went to touch it, pulling her hand back at the last minute.

"Touch all you like, doll," he said, grinning slyly when she blushed.

"Not until you make an honest woman out of her," Skye said, her arms crossed as she eyed him critically. That kind of assessing stare Natasha used on everyone.

"Skye!" Jemma hissed.

"I'm just looking out for you."

"Which is very sweet, but I can look after myself," she replied.

"Still gonna court you first," Bucky said, but he grabbed his towel from nearby and began to dry off, enjoying the way Jemma's pupils dilated. Skye's eyes narrowed, and she dragged her friend – Bucky's soulmate! – from the locker room.

"We'll meet you upstairs at the briefing," Skye said.

"Bye," Jemma said, waving, her eyes still on Bucky's glistening torso. He smirked lopsidedly, and waved back, humming cheerfully.

* * *

**Was supposed to be Bucky/Jemma-centric. Hmm. This was based on an idea I had: five times the team was surprised by Steve's music choice, and one time they were surprised by Bucky's. Uh… I don't think we've had Bucky/Jemma as anything other than a background pairing so far? And Capsicoul made its way in somehow. I think I need help. *Head-desk***

**Please review! I'll try to post more, I promise. It would help if I didn't have chickens wandering into my library and confusing me for the rest of the day.**

**No. Seriously. The library where I work? A chicken wandered in today. One of the students had to carry it out in the end, because it flew up onto a shelf, and… yeah. Not happened before. Hopefully won't happen again, but who knows?**


	100. Love a Redhead (Natasha x Skye, Wanda)

**Note: Spoilers for end of 'Ultron', but it's canon-divergent since the end of season one of 'AoS' so that it's just the original team, sans Ward and plus Trip, and they were all affected by the Diviner, not that they knew what it was. And that thing at the end of 'Ultron' didn't happen. You know the thing.**

"Love a Redhead"

They were all fidgeting in place, and Coulson was probably the worst.

"This is a terrible idea," he muttered. Skye poked him.

"Too late to go back now," she said. He rubbed the spot where she'd poked him and scowled at her.

"Thank you for pointing that out, Skye," he said. "Very helpful."

When his back was turned, she stuck out her tongue. He probably knew she'd done it, maybe even before she gave in to the impulse. Stupid know-all SHIELD director.

"I still don't understand how we're all alive after that… _thing_ sprayed glitter all over us," Simmons said.

"Weren't they crystals?" Skye said. "They looked like crystals."

"Excuse me, Skye, but I was panicking about the size of quarantine, and that we wouldn't all fit in there!"

"That's what you chose to worry about?" Trip said, raising his eyebrows. "Really?"

"And that we didn't have the people power or resources to perform all the required tests."

"We've done okay," Coulson said. "At least we had plenty of uninterrupted time to hunt down HYDRA _before_ getting zapped by the Obelisk."

"You think Thor will know much about it?" Skye said.

"More like I'm hoping he'll have a clue."

"That's encouraging," Fitz muttered.

Coulson knocked on the door of the conference room at the new Avengers facility. He'd requested (through Fury) that all of the original Avengers be there. Unfortunately, Bruce Banner had run off somewhere, but they'd managed to catch Thor and Clint Barton before they disappeared as well.

"Come in!"

"Oh my God, that's Captain America," Coulson whispered. His cheeks turned pink, and Skye took the initiative to nudge past him and push the doors open. Then she poked Coulson in the backside, and he scurried forward into the room. The five old Avengers and the five new ones were around the table. Most of them recognised him, and there was shouting as they leapt up. Skye, May, and Trip stepped in front of him when some of the originals began to move towards them. Natasha Romanov reached them first, and Skye tensed for a fight.

"You'll have to go through me first," she said. The Black Widow's eyes widened minutely.

"I'm willing to take that risk," she said dryly.

_I've heard those words before. Freaked me out when a couple of them were HYDRA agents, but that didn't pan out, thank God. It's not going to be her._ Skye hoped none of this showed on her face. Coulson face-palmed.

"Shit," he said. "I hate knowing everyone's soulmarks."

"You mean we _are_ soulmates?" Skye said.

"If that's really the case, this will be awkward," Natasha said.

"I guess," Skye said. "Um… hi? I'm Skye. I work for Coulson."

"It's not _our_ Coulson," Clint Barton said. Coulson cleared his throat.

"Well, I _did_ come back differently after Fury used alien blood to revive me," he said.

"After five days," Simmons added.

"And we've had bigger problems lately," he continued. "Which is why we're here."

"You need our help?" Tony Stark said.

"Not you. The facility I arranged for you. And paid for. My team and I recently underwent some kind of transformation, we think, and now we need to find out what happened in more secure surroundings. I thought it would be less awkward to say hello first, let you know I was alive, get you to meet the team, so you won't be put on edge when you see us around here."

"If you own the place, then we're your guests here, so you don't need our permission, do ya?" Steve Rogers (Captain America, Skye was fangirling internally) said. He sounded put out, and they were all glaring at Coulson. Skye's hackles went up.

"Hey!" she said sharply. "Dudes, he's alive. That's a good thing. He was dead, and I'm guessing you were sad about that or you wouldn't be this pissed off about this being kept secret. But I would've thought you'd be, y'know, _happy_ that he's okay. Or as okay as he can be. Why can't you just be _grateful_ that you got a second chance? If we'd all died when those crystals hit us, you never would've known he'd been alive for another two-and-a-half years."

"Skye?" Coulson said. He grabbed her arm. "Are you… doing that?"

She realised the ground was trembling, and took steady breaths. Slowly, the tremors died off, and she turned away from the Avengers.

"Do we have an earthquake-proof room?" she asked quietly. "`Cause if so, we need to find out whether that really was me, or someone else on the team."

"Maybe we can all do that?" Fitz said.

"Only one safe way to find out," Coulson said. He was still holding her arm, and began to lead her out. She stopped him and looked back over her shoulder.

"Can you… come with me?" she asked Natasha. "Please? If you're my soulmate, I need you there for this. Even if it's only outside the room. Just…"

She nodded, and followed them out. The rest of the team brought up the tail end, and Skye heard them murmuring.

"If it's brought on by intense emotions, why didn't it happen while we were in quarantine?" Simmons said.

"We were trying not to freak out," Trip said. "I hope suppressing it doesn't hurt us."

They reached a room where the floor was slightly elevated and on springs. Skye raised her eyebrows.

"You're seriously prepared for anything," she said.

"I'd say 'even a nuclear strike', but I'd prefer not to tempt fate," Coulson replied. "Hop in. There's pencil and paper, ventilation, and a window. It's mostly soundproof, and the glass is theoretically unbreakable."

"_Theoretically_?"

"I guess we're about to find out. If nothing happens in five minutes, we'll give someone else a turn. Think unhappy thoughts."

"Good thing I don't wanna fly like Peter Pan," she muttered, climbing into the room.

"Do you want me with you?" Natasha asked. Skye considered it, then shook her head.

"I won't risk you getting hurt," she said. "Five minutes, right?" Coulson nodded. "Bet I can do it in three."

Coulson closed the door, and Skye was pleased to see a pile of cushions. She dragged them to the centre of the room and made a nest. If she really could make the ground shake, it was better to be as far away from the walls as possible.

She waited. And waited. Nothing happened. Unhappy thoughts, Coulson said?

_Let's think about my life so far_, Skye thought. She listed it in her mind: supposedly orphaned, passed house-to-house through the system, ended up on the streets, eventually found the sole clue, got onto the team, got caught with her ex who turned out to be selling corporate secrets, had to deal with everyone's betrayed-faces, lost her SHIELD badge the day she earned it, found out that Ward was HYDRA and put Fitz in hospital, chased HYDRA, everything culminating in the whole team getting covered in sparkly rock particles…

Her head thunked against the floor, and she realised that the room was shaking violently and Coulson was hammering on the glass in the door. She took steady breaths again, thinking about her team, how they'd come through this, how it would all be okay, that she'd finally met her soulmate who _happened_ to be a sexy, badass superheroine.

Meditation over, Skye noticed the room was still. She stood, and her knees nearly went from under her. Wow. Must've been intense. She hoped she didn't cause any damage outside of the room. She yanked the door open, and fell into Coulson's arms.

"Okay, so my first guess was right," he said. "It was you."

"Should we all try, sir?" Simmons asked.

"Not until we've surveyed the room and surrounding area for damage. It did a good job of containing you, but it was like you'd spaced out, and your body was rocking around. Hitting your head like that broke the camel's back." He passed her to Natasha. "Your soulmate will look after you. Natasha, our rooms have been assigned. We're at the other end of the facility from you. Could you take Skye there?"

She nodded, and hooked an arm around Skye's waist.

"Can you walk?"

"Yeah," Skye said. "Legs are a bit shaky, that's all."

"I'll hold onto you."

"Thanks."

In the bedroom – a nice one, why couldn't Coulson do their rooms at the Playground like this? – Natasha helped Skye sit on the edge of the bed, then stood in front of her.

"Do you feel better now?" she asked.

"Maybe it's being close to you, but yeah, I do," Skye said.

"Mmm-hmm."

"Wanna… sit down for awhile? Talk with me?"

Natasha glanced at the door. "The others will be wondering where I am."

"I'm not gonna jump you. Well, not right away, `cause I'd have to be blind not to see how beautiful you are, of course I wanna…" She cleared her throat. "Moving on. I'm hoping you'd be open to a non-plato—"

"Your powers are new to you," Natasha said, interrupting. "Any strong emotion could set them off. Until you've learned to control them…"

"Well." Skye ducked her head and looked up at her soulmate. "Thinking about you calmed me down." She grinned. "Maybe a kiss from you can stop the shaking? Maybe beauty really can tame the wild beast?"

Natasha flinched. It was barely noticeable, but Skye was trained to be observant, and wondered what that was about. Before she could ask, Natasha held up a hand.

"I have to go," she said. "You look tired. We can talk again once you've adjusted to having these powers and learned to control them. You said yourself that you didn't want to hurt me."

"No," Skye said, frowning. "Of course not. I _am_ a bit tired, now I think about it, but it could be the journey as much as anything."

"Sleep well, Skye," Natasha said, and she left, closing the door firmly behind her.

Skye didn't bother undressing, or pulling down the covers. She flopped down, rested her head on the pillows, and focussed on even breaths until she'd brought her pulse rate down to an acceptable level.

* * *

After the confirmation of Skye's powers, the others had all tried to cause quakes, to no avail. Fitz did twist the doorhandle out of shape, though. So Coulson had directed him to the stationery cupboard for paperclips, and now he was outside, attempting to twist the bits of metal into shapes.

"Ridiculous," he murmured. "Like this could actually work."

He managed to skew them awkwardly when someone walked down the stairs to sit beside him. It was Quicksilver, the blond twin, and he watched as Fitz tried to manipulate the paperclips.

"Who can make metal move like that?" he asked.

"Me, apparently," Fitz said, trying to concentrate.

"…What did you just say?"

"Hmm?" The clips fell into his lap and he sighed. Then he thought over the brief conversation, and his eyes widened. "I… I said 'Me, apparently'. A-and you said—"

"Your soul words?"

"Yeah."

They fell into silence. Fitz's heart was racing, and he realised that the metal he'd been playing with had risen into the air in front of them and was twisting together. He raised his trembling hands and moved his fingers, trying to feel them connect to the paperclips.

"Perhaps if you do not concentrate so much, you will find it easier," Pietro suggested. Fitz snorted.

"Is that how you control your speed?" he asked.

"It is more complicated than you think."

"So is this. Hell, I'll never get the hang of it."

Pietro turned Fitz's head to face him.

"You know, I thought that when I met my soulmate we would get to know each other," he said. "Not sit around playing with paperclips."

"I'm not playing!"

"You only meet your soulmate for the first time once, pet. Play with those later."

"It's not playing," Fitz protested sullenly.

"Neither is this," Pietro said, tilting his head closer. He stared into Fitz's eyes, waiting for him to make the final move. So he did, bringing their lips together and leaning into it. Pietro's arms snaked around him, and Fitz cupped the back of his head, angling it and deepening the kiss. His soulmate shuddered for a second before everything became more intense. Somehow, he ended up with a lapful of Latverian superhero whose limbs and tongue moved at an astonishing speed, not that he should've been surprised. But the enthusiasm was more than he'd imagined, and it was only the concrete digging into the back of his legs that stopped him from lying Pietro down and— Yeah, better stop there.

He managed to pull Pietro's head back by his white-blond hair, panting, and smiled at his soulmate's grin.

"Can we do that again?" Pietro asked.

"We can do whatever you want, my bonny," Fitz said. Then he noticed something, and flushed pinked. Pietro looked over his shoulder, and sniggered at the heart shape Fitz had unconsciously twisted the paperclips into.

"Somewhere a little more private?"

"How well stocked is this place?"

Pietro smirked. "_Very_ well stocked. I will show you. Come with me."

_Not until we're somewhere more comfortable_, Fitz thought, dazedly collecting the clips and following his soulmate up the stairs.

* * *

After Skye awoke, she remembered Natasha's request to wait until she'd gained control over her powers. So she logged onto the network, hacked her way in easily – was Coulson even _trying_ to keep her out? – and flipped through all the security cameras until she found her soulmate, talking with Fury. It wasn't stalking, okay? Besides, Fury and Natasha were both standing with their arms crossed, and if that didn't say confrontational Skye didn't know what did. She zoomed in, turned up the speaker, and listened.

"…changed because you found her?"

"Fate means nothing to me," Natasha said. Skye held her breath.

"So the fact that you've had those words on your skin for twenty-six years doesn't mean anything to you? A young woman's feelings don't mean anything?"

"I don't know her, Nick."

"And you barely know Banner. Yet you latched onto him quickly. Some people might ask why. Is it a way of avoiding Fate? Are you looking for an impossible relationship? Were you just looking for a boyfriend who knew how to run and hide?"

"Nick—"

"You owe her an explanation. Now your almost-boyfriend's split, I'd say the relationship – whatever you had – is _over_. You've got a soulmate. It might only be a platonic bond, but you can't ignore it just `cause your pride's been wounded, Romanov."

Was it true? Did Natasha have feelings for someone else? She… she didn't want Skye?

Story of her life, really. Potential families didn't want her. SHIELD didn't want her at first, until Coulson convinced them to give her a chance. Now her soulmate was rejecting her, and she didn't even have the guts to say it to Skye's face.

She heard rattling, and glanced up. Her little Hawaiian doll was rocking, and so were a few of the things on her dresser. She shut the laptop and collapsed back onto her bed, thinking happy thoughts. Her friends. They had to have nice soulmates, right? And they'd always be her friends. Besides, this meant that Skye didn't have to go with the person Fate chose for her; she could choose someone who didn't have a soulmate, or who'd also been rejected, or just had a platonic bond.

Skye's destiny was in her own hands, and that made her feel… powerful.

Someone pounded at her door. That was inevitable, if anyone else felt the quake.

"It's unlocked!" she called.

Simmons poked her head into the room.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Nightmare." The lie came easily, and Simmons accepted it.

"I'm so sorry, Skye."

"We're all gonna have them. I'll just have to sleep somewhere else."

"Coulson said that he'll adjust the room with the…"

"Springy floor?"

"Yes. Make it more comfortable for sleeping."

"He must've seen this coming," Skye said. "Seriously, it's like he has precognition."

"He's the director of SHIELD," Simmons said. "No doubt it's a job requirement."

"So." Skye settled cross-legged on one end of her bed, and gestured to the other. Simmons sat down and smiled at her. "Any good gossip going around?"

"Aside from the fact that Fitz and Pietro were seen stumbling into his room together?"

Skye goggled. "What? _Fitz_?"

"Wanda thinks they must be soulmates, because Pietro is traditional, so he's unlikely to fall for awkward flirting."

"Wow. Have you found your soulmate here yet?"

Simmons giggled. "No, not yet. Wouldn't it be interesting if we were all connected to various Avengers?"

"Let me know if any of them are unattached."

She frowned. "But… Romanov—"

"Doesn't want me. Didn't you hear? She and Banner are an item."

"…Oh."

"Look on the bright side. I get to choose for myself now."

"Y-yes, I suppose that's true."

"And I wouldn't know what to do with a woman. I've only been with guys before. No big loss." She shrugged. "Don't even know why Fate thought we'd be a good match."

Simmons leaned forward and took her hand. "You've both had difficult lives, then committed yourself to an organisation which turned out to be partially corrupt. You're both excellent field agents. I'm sure you can find more common ground."

"I don't have that chance, so I can forget about it."

"Skye—"

"Have you worked out your power yet?"

Narrowing her eyes, Simmons hummed.

"We believe that Fitz can manipulate metal," she said. "Don't change the subject."

"I'm reminding you that negative emotions could bring this room down around our ears."

"Ah. Yes."

"Getting back to the others," Skye said, nudging Simmons' foot with hers. "You don't have any idea what your magical mystery power could be?"

"Not an inkling," Simmons said, and she sighed as she leaned back against the wall. "I can't even imagine being able to do something which cannot be explained by science."

"Or Fate."

"Soulmateship is a recognised field," she said indignantly. "It's a compulsory class when studying science."

"Simmons…"

She rolled her eyes. "The _point_, Skye, is that these are unchartered waters."

"Otherworldly stuff is unchartered waters for us?"

"When it happens to us personally, yes!"

"Careful, Simmons, or something in here might go boom, and it won't be my fault."

Before Simmons could reply, there was urgent knocking at the door.

"It's unlocked!" Skye called again. This time it was Trip who burst into the room.

"You won't believe what May's power is," he said.

"What is it?"

"…She can fly. Without wings."

"Shit!"

"Are you serious?" Simmons said.

"Yep."

"Wow," Skye said. "Now I feel _sorry_ for any bad guy who fights her."

"Not yet," Trip said. "Have you hacked the cameras?"

"Yeah."

"She's in one of the gyms trying it out. Know how she discovered it?"

"Nope," Skye said, grabbing her laptop and going through the hundred or so cameras Coulson had installed. "How?"

"Coulson was explaining how he'd come back to life, and one of the original Avengers thought it'd be a good idea to see if he was wearing a mask. Before Coulson could defend himself, May had _literally_ flown across the room and knocked them down. When she realised she was hovering above the ground, she tried to get her balance, ended up flying into a wall, a chair, and would've fallen on her ass if Coulson hadn't caught her."

"So you're saying that our pilot can fly without a plane?" Skye said.

"Did she hurt herself?" Simmons asked. Okay, that _should've _been her first question.

"No more than when she's sparring," Trip said. "All I'm saying is that until she gets a handle on it—"

"Then she may need a medical professional nearby," Simmons said, standing up.

"…I was gonna say that it'll be hilarious to watch her wobbling about in the air, but now I feel like an asshole. Thanks, Simmons."

"Here it is," Skye said. She maximised the screen with the best view of the gym. May was actually doing alright, soaring through the air elegantly. Her landings were initially shaky, but she was getting better.

"Damn," Trip said. "She was so ungainly before."

"This is Melinda May," Skye said. "What do you expect?"

"I'm going to the gymnasium to check her," Simmons said. "You should be ashamed."

Skye waved her off, feeling less guilty when May flew up to the camera and glared at them. It was her 'I'll kill you if you don't go away now' face.

"How does she know?" Trip whispered.

"Maybe she got a second power, sixth sense."

"Nah. Like you said, this is Melinda May. What else can we expect?"

"I don't think I could handle a psychic flying Agent May," Skye whispered.

"The world isn't prepared for that," he agreed.

* * *

By the time Jemma reached the gymnasium, May was moving like… like a cross between Margot Fontayne and Esther Williams. Jemma spent a few minutes watching, until May landed. She still seemed unsteady, and was almost ginger with her left foot.

"What happened?" Jemma asked, hurrying forward.

"Twisted it on the first landing in here," May said.

"Let me look at it. You seem to have an abnormally high pain threshold, Agent May."

"Part of being a field agent."

"I suppose so," Jemma said, kneeling at her feet. "Please remove your shoe and sock." May obeyed, displaying a bit of swelling and a forming bruise. "Does it hurt when you rotate it?" May gave her a withering look. "Standard question."

"Yes, it does, but I'll be fine. I just need to rest it."

"Let me look at it properly," Jemma said.

The moment she touched May's ankle, the bruise began to fade and the swelling went down. The agent gasped loudly, and grabbed Jemma's shoulder.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm not doing anything! I'm just touching you!"

"But it… where's the bruise? Why doesn't it hurt anymore?"

Jemma trembled. "I don't know. Try walking on it."

Being Agent May, she performed a series of acrobatic manoeuvres, rather than walking like a mere mortal.

"I think we've discovered your power," Coulson said. He'd covered his mouth, and she wondered whether he was hiding a smile. Or was he horrified? Surely not.

"You think I can heal minor injuries just by touching someone?" she said.

"Apparently. Let's see if anyone else is injured. I'm not hurting someone on purpose."

"She can practise on me," May said, starting to strip. "I've got bruises elsewhere after my first… attempts. I'm sure Trip told you about them."

"He did," Jemma said. "That's why I came here as soon as I could, in case I could help."

"And you did."

Coulson backed off a few steps. "E-excuse me a minute. I feel…"

He ran off to the changing rooms, and she and May exchanged a glance.

"Actually, you're terribly attractive," Jemma said. "But I assure you, I can be perfectly professional about this."

"They're only bruises, Simmons. We should be more worried about Coulson."

They hurried after him, and the retching sounds were audible.

"Sir?" Jemma said, banging on the door of the cubicle. "Are you alright? Can I help?"

"Everything…" He took a breath, and then coughed again. "Smells so… _strong_. It's like…" He retched again. "Like my sinuses have cleared… after being blocked… for years. What's happening?"

"I don't know," she said, wringing her hands. "When you come out, I can try to fix it. Maybe it's just a tummy bug?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm five years old, Simmons!"

"It could be related to your power," May said.

"As powers go, this _sucks_. And could you keep it down?"

"Keep what down?"

"Your voice. It hurts."

Jemma dropped hers to a whisper. "Is this better?"

"No!"

"Sir, you're the one shouting," May said, her voice even softer than Jemma's.

"I'm speaking normally."

Jemma cleared her throat. "Definitely power-related," she said. "Sir, how is your sight?"

"Normal." He coughed again, though it sounded less violent. Maybe there was nothing left for him to throw up. "Can someone get my toothbrush and toothpaste?"

"I will," May said, and she ran off. Jemma perched beside a sink and waited. The toilet flushed, and soon after Coulson emerged. He looked terrible, and washed his face and mouth at one of the sinks.

"Perhaps you've developed super senses?" she suggested. He glanced up at her, and his eyes narrowed.

"I can see your pores and freckles through the patches in your makeup," he said.

"Patches?"

"Your clothes seem normal, but I can see the places where it's loose against your body, or tight. I can see goosebumps forming on your arms. I can see the way your pulse is jumping in your throat. Hell, I can still smell Melinda's perspiration, and she hasn't even touched you. You haven't touched her beyond her ankle, either. I can hear your breath, the swing of your legs, the movement of your clothes against them…" He blushed and looked away. "Nothing's ever been this clear before."

"Sir… these appear to be symptoms of super senses, as I suspected. The only senses you have left to explore are touch and taste."

"I'll see what it's like with the toothpaste," he said. "And please keep your voice down. Your nervousness is palpable, more so than your worry before."

"Of course we were worried. You were ill, and we didn't know what was wrong."

"I mean when you entered the gym. Your worry for Melinda. Your worry for me just contributed to my nausea."

"I apologise, sir, but feelings are something I can't help."

"No, but why can I _sense_ them?"

She tilted her head. "Remember the lie detector? The human body can't help giving out certain signals. Most of them are visual or auditory. It seems amplified for you, with the added… uh, _bonus_ of being able to smell someone's emotions. Like a dog."

"Aren't you great for the self-esteem?" he muttered. "May's coming."

Ten seconds later, the gym door opened, and May was jogging over to them. Coulson covered his mouth again.

"I'll tell you what I believe the problem is," Jemma said, and she nudged May out of the room. "We'll leave him to it. Sir, tell me what the toothpaste is like when you're done." He nodded wearily, and Jemma led May to the middle of the gymnasium.

"What is it, Simmons?"

"He can sense people's emotions," she said. "Animals – especially dogs and wolves – can scent a person's emotions, because their sense of smell is multiple times keener than ours. His sight and hearing relating to _other_ people is also sharper. He's like a human lie detector."

"A super sensory empath. That's what you're saying."

"Yes."

"So what do we do?"

Jemma shrugged. "What else _can_ we do? Help him adjust to it."

"How?"

"Think about it. Who else on this base has had to learn to deal with super senses?"

"No," Coulson said from the doorway. "Not him. The last couple of times we talked – really the first couple of times we talked – I was the world's creepiest fanboy. It was incredibly awkward. I'm not asking Steve Rogers for help, thank you very much."

"Sir, what choice do you have? Stay away from everyone? That's hardly productive."

"Better than spending too much time with my childhood hero. He'd never agree to it."

May rolled her eyes. "Can you see Captain America turning away help?"

"He's more than that!"

When they resorted to glaring at each other, Jemma coughed gently.

"How was the toothpaste, sir?" she asked.

"Fine. It tasted like toothpaste."

"It seems that you may be capable of empathy—"

"Through refined senses, yes, I heard that. You forgot to lower your voices."

She glanced at May, who arched an eyebrow. "Right. Apologies for forgetting that, sir. Although we may have to invest in ear plugs for you. And dark glasses. And I should find some of the cream forensic specialists use when examining corpses."

"There'll be some in the med bay," he said. "I've got a headache. I'm going to bed."

"I'll take you there," May said. "If we're lucky we'll run into Quicksilver, and he can tell everyone to keep away from you for now."

"Unless he still smells of sex with Fitz."

"Shall I find Captain Rogers for you, sir?" Jemma said.

"_No_. If I decide I need his help, I'll ask for it myself."

* * *

Skye eventually told Trip what she'd overheard. They trawled through earlier footage, anything they could find of the Avengers at the new facility. Natasha was moping in a way converse to what Skye thought she knew about Agent Romanov. All those stories she'd heard, the fact that Natasha was an Avenger, led her to think that the woman was kickass and independent. Instead, here she was all lovesick over a man who'd bailed.

Maybe… there was something between them Skye didn't know about. They could've had some shared bonding experience that spilled over into requited… whatever.

"Calm down," Trip said, touching her shoulder. She pulled away. "Skye, you'll make the whole building shake if you don't—"

"Then maybe I should leave," Skye said. "If my own soulmate doesn't want me here—"

"Has she actually said that?"

"…No, but she was obviously putting me off until she could let me down gently."

"There isn't a gentle way to do it," Trip said, and he shrugged. Skye bent her head and gripped the side of her bed. The tremors began. "Skye, take a breath, okay?" The bed shook more violently. "Skye!"

He touched her arm this time, skin meeting skin, and she immediately felt calmer. When he removed his hand, the pain returned, and they both nearly fell off the bed. Trip grabbed her again.

"Calm down," he said, and she obeyed. For some reason. Their eyes met, and they must've realised what was happening at the same time. "Skye, cluck like a chicken."

"What?"

"So I can't control you. Thank God. That would've freaked me out."

"Maybe you're just supposed to make me feel more… serene?"

"Feel… angry," he said tentatively.

"Damn it, Trip! Don't pussyfoot around me just because my soulmate doesn't think I'm good enough for—"

"Be calm."

The anger drained away, and Skye caught her breath.

"Wow," she said.

"Be happy."

She grinned, and then started giggling. When she pulled her hands away to cover her laughter the elation disappeared along with it.

"We have to test this," she said. "Not on me. Let's try…"

"Simmons?"

"May," she said. "If you can make her show emotions, I'll…"

"You'll what?" he asked, starting to grin.

"Be pretty freaking amazed."

They walked to the gym, pausing when Simmons rushed past them, and continued until they bumped into Coulson and May. Coulson covered his mouth, and May shushed them before they could speak.

"Super senses," she whispered. Even then, Coulson winced, and she patted his arm.

"We think we've worked out Trip's power," Skye said, trying to keep her voice low.

"If I touch someone, I can control their emotions," Trip said. "At least it worked on Skye. Do you want me to try it on you, sir?"

"No!" He grimaced again. "I can sense others' emotions. Please don't mess with them."

"I could try blocking the worst of it for you?"

Coulson paused, and lowered his hand part of the way so he was less muffled.

"If you can do that, I'd be forever grateful," he said.

* * *

Natasha was still debating over whether or not to fly to Barbados and find Bruce. There was a chance he'd moved on from there, or that the postcard was to throw her off the scent. But he should've known better. She was an ex-SHIELD agent, knew every trick in the book when it came to hiding. She was also persuasive, and had a sufficient amount of money to be able to threaten and/or bribe someone into giving her information.

Skye's hacking skills would be handy, come to that. Maybe Natasha should take her…?

_No_, she realised. That would be awkward. Taking her soulmate to find her errant would-be boyfriend? Completely insensitive. Just because Natasha had no interest in being with a woman didn't mean she had to rub it in Skye's face. Soulmateship meant nothing, a worldwide superstition. Many found their happiness elsewhere. Bruce was keeping his own soulmate, Betty Ross, safe by staying away from her. Another soulmateship which wasn't to be; why should Natasha go with convention? She never had before.

As long as Bruce was willing, she'd be there. He fought when he had to, but because it was the right thing to do, not out of any actual desire to fight. She could say the same thing about the others – she was _surrounded_ by people who fought only because they had to – but he was different. A cute genius who wasn't insufferable about his intelligence. It made Natasha like him, _want_ him more. What was wrong with that? Nothing. Her soulmate didn't figure into this, and that was that.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door, and she sighed.

"Come in," she said, retreating to her desk to make a list of pros and cons. Skye opened the door and poked her head into the room. "Oh. Hello."

"Wow, that was enthusiastic," Skye said, rolling her eyes. Natasha didn't reply. "I heard you were thinking about going after your boyfriend."

"I… I don't have a—"

"Don't lie to me!" she snapped. It echoed the first time Natasha had been terrified of Bruce… of the _Hulk_. "Look, you don't want me. We're only here long enough to get our powers under control, then leave. Well, _I'll_ leave if I'm not wanted. Fitz might stay, which means Simmons probably will."

"Skye—"

"I know you have feelings for Dr. Banner, and that's… fine. I'm okay with that." Her eyes lowered for a split second, and Natasha knew she was lying.

"Who told you?" she asked.

"You did."

"When?"

Skye shrugged. "I'm a hacker. I found you talking to Fury on the security footage. The conversation was… telling. You know, you should've said in the first place, `stead of leading me on. Stupid me, thought I had a chance. Doesn't matter now." Another lie she couldn't conceal, but Natasha didn't comment. "Some honesty would've been nice, that's all. So don't hang around `cause we're soulmates and you think you owe me. You don't owe me _anything_, and I don't owe _you_ anything. Go be happy." She took a breath, and inhaled slowly. "I get freedom of choice now, so thanks. And… good luck." She swallowed, gave Natasha an uncertain smile, and then disappeared again.

* * *

(Outside the room, Trip squeezed Skye's hand, still projecting calmness. They headed down the hallway so she could go to her quake room and lose control without disturbing anyone. Simmons was worried about what effect suppressing her powers might have, if they were brought on by emotion. Still, Skye held them in until Trip was out and the door was locked, before falling onto her nest.)

* * *

Steve, Natasha, and Tony were talking to Clint over Skype, and the twins and Fitz were on the other side of the table. They all looked up when Coulson entered the room, and Clint gave him a dirty look.

"There you are," he grumbled.

"How are you, Clint? How's the family?"

"Can't hear you, _Coulson_. Why don't you take your hand down?"

Coulson tried, but clapped his hand back over his mouth after glancing at Pietro and Fitz.

"Sorry, no can do," he said loudly. Then he walked over to Steve. The captain stared at him frostily, and Coulson lowered his hand a couple of inches, looking kinda green. "I think… I need your help. Please."

Steve hesitated, then said, "Help with what, sir?" He watched the agent carefully, but there was no unusual reaction to his words.

"My power. It's…" Coulson turned away from his engineer and the twins, and took a shallow breath. "Given me super senses."

"…Oh."

"It's overwhelming. I… I have to go."

"I'll come find you," Steve said. The agent waved him off with his free hand as he scurried out of the room.

"Did he say super senses?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah," Steve said absently. "I can relate to…" He was flexing his hands under the table, going over Coulson's words to him. His soulmark. Could it be…? But the agent didn't react when Steve replied. It didn't make sense. Steve hadn't heard those exact words from anyone, either as their first words to him or in subsequent conversation. Not even before he received his mark.

"Problem, Capsicle?" Tony asked. Steve glared at him.

"We need to be happy that Coulson's here," he said.

"I'm glad they came," Pietro said, playing with Fitz's hair.

"Yeah, but Captain Rogers is less biased," Fitz pointed out.

"Maybe," Steve murmured. Then he jumped to his feet. "Better get started. See you later, Clint. Say hi to your family for me."

He didn't hear Clint's reply, running out of the room. It didn't take long to find Coulson, still walking to his quarters. Steve nearly ran into him, and smiled at the agent.

"Let's start with a shower," he said.

"…What?"

"A shower," Steve repeated innocently. "Y'know, I've never grown chest hair. Just didn't come with the serum. It's where all the germs are trapped, which cause body o—"

"You think it'll help?" Coulson said.

"Worth a try. Can you hear your own heart more than before?"

"It's not like you. I'm a sense-based empath, from what we can tell. I don't notice these things about myself."

"If you want me to help you, considering how much I exercise, then I should definitely shave elsewhere," Steve said. "It feels kinda nice. Wanna help?"

"W-_what_? Cap—"

"I should shower anyway. C'mon. We can walk and talk. What were you hoping I could help you with?"

"Just… tips. How to cope with super senses. I'm wearing earplugs, but I still hear everyone clearly, almost too loud. And I blink more than usual to control my enhanced eyesight. Shifts focus like a camera."

"Maybe Fitz can make you a pair of glasses for it?"

"Or you can just help me," Coulson said.

Steve inclined his head. "Or I could do that. Have you tried eating or drinking?"

"I've washed my mouth out. Food and drink don't seem to have an effect, and I'm not going to go around eating people. Remember, it's empathy. Kissing a person's hand… or any part of them—"

"True," Steve said. "You're a human lie detector, huh?"

"Not until I've got a handle on this. May can fly, Skye can _almost_ control her quakes—"

"Fitz hasn't had much time to practise," Steve said. "He's been busy with Pietro."

"I could tell," Coulson said, still looking green around the gills. "Wish I couldn't."

"If you weren't like this," Steve said, "_we_ wouldn't get to know each other."

Coulson's eyes narrowed as he glanced at Steve. "Why would you be interested in that?"

"`Cause I was an ass three years ago—"

"I was coming on too strong—"

"It was no excuse for blowing you off—"

"This isn't why I asked for your help!"

"No, it isn't," Steve said. He'd distracted the agent for just long enough. Then he yanked him into the bathroom beside them, shut and locked the door, and pressed the agent against the wood. "Speaking of blowing…"

"Captain?"

"Wanna learn to control your gag reflex? I've got tips on that. Let me demonstrate…"

"Captain."

"I know this room is well-stocked with shaving supplies, including disposable safety razors," Steve continued, peeling off the top of his uniform. Coulson gulped as he looked Steve over, as each new patch of skin was revealed.

"C-Captain—"

"Steve, please call me Steve."

Coulson sighed. "Steve, what're you doing?"

"Wow, I thought you were more perceptive than this."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were flirting with me."

Steve pressed up against him, and lowered his mouth to caress Coulson's ear. "What could be better, _Phil_?" He heard Coulson's breath hitch, heart speed up.

"…W-when we got here, _I _was the one who knocked. Technically, you were saying 'Come in' exclusively to _me_."

"That's your soulmark? 'Come in'?" Coulson nodded. Steve pushed his pants down and turned around, showing Coulson the back of his left leg. "Where's yours?"

"Here," Coulson said quietly, gesturing to the front of his right thigh.

"This your writing?"

Steve shivered as Coulson traced his soulmark, and grinned at the soft, "Yeah."

"Swell," he said, spinning around. "So. Shower with me?"

The agent's smile was deliciously wicked.

* * *

Bruce was torn. He stared at two pictures, one of his soulmate, and one of his fellow Avenger, the one who perhaps understood him the most. The one scared of the monster within, and was… looking for an out.

He sighed. Betty had been everything to him, but General Ross had gotten in the way as much as the Other Guy had. Betty was his _soulmate_. He was supposed to be with her; Fate decreed it. Bruce had fallen in love with Betty even before he met her, and discovered they were soulmates. He'd been over the moon to find the other half of his soul, and in one he admired so much, for her work, for her kindness, for her beauty of heart and appearance. She'd been like a dream come true.

Then the serum.

…The less said about that, the better. And the less likely to trigger the Other Guy.

So Ross went all Papa Bear on Bruce. Not just the Hulk, but Bruce. He'd never been good enough for Betty in the general's eyes, no matter what Fate said. And after the Hulk happened, Bruce believed it. He knew Betty deserved better than he could give.

Natasha Romanov was terrified of him, and when she decided to 'find herself' after HYDRA-Gate, and took to living in Stark Tower at Tony's invitation, Bruce did everything he could to make sure she wouldn't be scared anymore. Maybe they'd hung out a little longer than he'd anticipated, found common interests, spent late nights talking about their fears, and the destruction they'd caused against their wishes.

Tony had VERONICA – thanks, really tactful there – to neutralise the Other Guy; Thor could at least fly away, the Hulk listened to Steve for some reason, and seemed to like Clint as well. But he was unsure around the Black Widow, and she was no physical match for him, so they worked out The Lullaby. Staring into each other's eyes might've been necessary, but it also brought about a weird… _thing_ between them.

(And what did Steve mean when he said he'd seen Natasha's flirting up close? No, not the time to think about that.)

He rested his head back against the wall of the jet and stared at the plain metal ceiling.

"What do I do?" he said to himself. The only conversation he had these days.

…Maybe smashing up the communications system was stupid. The postcard had been flippant because he chickened out of telling the truth before he even picked up the pen.

He drummed his fingers on the floor, and debated between the two women in his life: his soulmate, who he already loved; and the woman who intrigued him, who _understood_ him, and could escape the Other Guy if something went wrong. Who couldn't have children anyway, so there was no expectation, nothing to lose. Not that children were a good idea… although somehow Clint got away with it. Bruce was pretty sure there was some supernatural explanation involved.

He shook his head with a sigh.

"Not doing any good here," he muttered, and he pulled out his wallet. Coin toss it was. Genius thinking. Bruce rolled his eyes, decided who was heads and who was tails, and flipped the quarter into the air.

It landed.

* * *

"I know something about control."

Skye opened her eyes from where she was meditating in the middle of the gym. The red-haired twin, Wanda, was standing close by.

"Uh-huh," she said. "Like HYDRA and Ultron's form of control."

Wanda narrowed her eyes. "Like being able to control others."

"Exactly what I said." Skye closed her eyes again, remaining in the lotus position with a steadiness which would even impress May.

"I am nothing like them!"

"You worked with them," Skye said. "I know what it's like to work with HYDRA agents, both knowingly and unknowingly. I had to pretend to be in love with one, while he thought that _I_ thought he was SHIELD. Not even soulmates." She snorted. "Like I have any luck with that. Mine is Natasha Romanov, if that tells you anything."

"Ah," Wanda said, and Skye felt her sit nearby. "Because she and the Hulk…"

"I'm working through it. It's not like we found each other and _then_ she betrayed me. She was already sweet on him… okay, remind me not to hang out with Coulson and Cap while they're still in the honeymoon phase. 'Sweet on him.' Jesus." She heard Wanda giggle, and smiled, her eyes still closed to help her focus. "She was attracted to him already. I was the interloper."

"But he isn't here."

Skye's smile turned bitter. "Yeah, well. Clearly he's an idiot. I'd say it's his loss, but he hasn't lost her. Neither have I. She was never mine."

"You truly believe that what Fate says is absolute? The last word on the matter?"

Skye opened her eyes, blinking rapidly to let them adjust to the light, and nearly fell back when she realised how close Wanda was. The Scarlet Witch cocked her head.

"I can influence people's minds," she said. "I could make her want you instead."

"What? No! No, don't do that. It'd be like… it'd be non-consensual. Too close to rape for… just, no. Not happening."

"Very well. But my offer stands."

"I'd never accept it," Skye said firmly. "Please, let it go. I'm used to disappointment, and we won't stay here forever."

"Won't you? What about Pietro and Fitz?"

Skye lowered her head. "That's true. Well, I don't have to stay here. SHIELD needs multiple bases when we get back up and running."

"If Natasha leaves, will you stay?"

"No guarantee." Skye unfolded, and sat with her legs stretched out in front of her and her hands behind her, propping her up. "Like I said, SHIELD has to operate from more than one place when it's—"

"Up and running," Wanda finished. "In the meantime, do you like board games?"

Skye blinked at the weird change of topic. "I've… played some with the team before?"

"Will you play with me?"

She smiled slowly. "I'd like that."

* * *

Natasha had caught a trail, and left a note with Steve – assuming he could tear himself away from his 'lessons' with Phil long enough to read it – to say that she was on the hunt, and would keep him posted once a day, and not to worry unless she went three days without contact.

And she thought she was good. Nothing surprised her more when she got a call from Bruce on her secret number, although she suspected help from Tony or Steve. Or Clint, the traitor.

"Where are you?" she asked.

"America."

"It's a big country, Bruce."

"I'm home."

She narrowed her eyes. Had she come all this way, only to miss his return to base? Or was he hiding at Stark Tower? Trust Tony not to tell her something important like that.

"Which home?" she said.

"With my soulmate."

It felt like the air had been punched out of her. She sat on the nearest park bench and leaned over, resting her elbows on her legs and combing her fingers through her hair.

"Uh-huh?"

"I'm sorry, Natasha. Seems like Fate wants me to be with Betty. Tony took care of General Ross, and Betty has a job at Stark Industries, so we can…" He trailed off.

"I understand," she said, forcing neutrality into her tone.

"It's not that I don't care about you. I do. But what we almost had… it felt rushed, and pushed. We were trying to protect our soulmates from ourselves, without giving them any say in the matter. Not that you've found your soulmate yet, but if you did, you need to give them a chance. With me in the way—"

"Bruce, that doesn't matter—"

"And I love Betty," he interrupted. "I always did, and I always will. I've taken the choice away from her. I called her, and she… she still loves me. She's not you – there's no one like you, and your soulmate will be so lucky when you find them – but I know I could never hurt her. Tony's got a safe room, so I'm letting the Other Guy get to know her until she's safe with him. If we ever adopted, we'd do the same… Not that that's likely, but Fury told me you've got new Avengers, and I can do more work in a lab, better work now that we've learnt our mistake from Ultron. With Betty's help…" He cleared his throat. "I know you can be as happy as I am."

"How long?" Natasha asked. "Since you decided this?"

"Just under four weeks. It… it was the hardest decision I've ever had to make, if it's any consolation."

"No, it isn't," she murmured. "Thanks for being honest with me, though."

"Don't turn away your soulmate, Natasha. It's the best feeling in the world when you're with them. When I met Betty, I realised why—"

"I did meet my soulmate," she said. Bruce went silent. "Over a month ago. I've been searching for you for weeks. I rejected her because…" Tears of frustration and humiliation came to her eyes. "Because of you."

"…Natasha, I left for a reason."

"You didn't tell me why! One stupid postcard and no other contact?"

"When you met her, you should've taken it as a sign," he said.

"Bruce—"

"I have to hang up before the Other Guy takes over. Talk to you some other time, Natasha. Go win back your soulmate, if you can."

Then he disconnected the call. Natasha stared as the screen went dark. Her stomach felt leaden. She sent a quick message to Steve, telling him she was on her way ho… to base.

* * *

Wanda snuggled closer into Skye's side. They'd finished playing Bananagrams, then moved onto Disney movies, and the credits of _Enchanted_ were rolling. Skye kissed the top of Wanda's head, and breathed deeply. She loved the shampoo Wanda used, and cuddled the girl closer.

"Is it horrible that I'm glad you don't have a soulmark?" she asked.

"No, because it means we are hurting no one," Wanda replied.

"I wonder why Fate paired me with Natasha?"

"Perhaps one day you will be the world's greatest crime-fighting duo since Holmes and Watson?"

"Nah," Skye said, rolling Wanda onto her back. "I'd rather fight crime with you. Quake and the Scarlet Witch."

"I like the sound of that."

"Me, too." Skye rubbed their noses together, and then gave Wanda a quick kiss. "Okay. Classic Disney next. We might have time for…" She checked the clock. "Half of a one before Coulson calls us?"

"If we ask nicely, I am sure Steve will delay him long enough for a whole movie."

"Ooh, evil plan. I like it."

Everything turned complicated when Natasha finally returned to the base, and asked to speak with Skye alone. Wanda hung her head and turned away, and Skye held up a hand.

"Hang on a second," she said, and she ran after Wanda. The girl pulled her arm away when Skye touched it. "Please, Wanda."

"She's your soulmate, Skye. I see it in her eyes. She wants to—"

"Yeah, I can guess what 'she wants to', but it won't happen. I'm with _you_ now."

"She's your—"

"Stop saying that!" Skye wanted to start tearing her own hair out, she was that frustrated with her girlfriend, or whatever they were. "It didn't mean anything before, and clearly Bruce broke up with her, and… and I'm not gonna be someone's rebound."

"Like I am?" Wanda asked. Skye fell back a step in shock.

"What? No, you're not," she said. "One, that would imply that I'd been with Natasha before, which is _not_ the case. Two, I didn't get a chance to develop any feelings for her beyond attraction, because she's smoking hot. But so are _you_. You're the one who plays games with me when the rest of the team is busy working, or testing their powers, or hanging out with their soulmates. We kid around, we watch movies together, and I _really_ like you, Wanda. You're my girl, okay? There. I've said it. I'm not gonna run back to my soulmate because she'd rather settle for second best than be independent. That's not the base for a healthy relationship. Okay, I don't know much about healthy relationships, but I know I'm not giving you up without a fight."

Wanda's eyes looked damp and Skye pulled her close, relaxing when Wanda wrapped her arms around Skye's waist.

"No one's ever… I thought no one would ever—"

"You've got me in your corner, babe, and I'm not leaving you. Not unless you get tired of me, and don't think I won't get a lie detector if I think you're just trying to make it easier on me."

Wanda laughed, and drew back. Skye bumped their noses together.

"I'll hear what she has to say, but I'm gonna be thinking about you."

"Very well."

Skye half-hoped that Natasha had heard at least some of the conversation, or that she was an excellent lip-reader, because she wasn't sure she could repeat the entire speech she gave to Wanda. She led Natasha to seats by the large windows and stared out of them, definitely not interested in being shut in a room with the woman who'd rejected her, whose mere presence and possible interest had almost screwed up Skye's very new relationship with Wanda.

"How did your quest go?" Skye asked.

"I know where Bruce is, and that he's with his soulmate," Natasha said.

"So now what?"

"I was hoping… for a second chance."

"Seriously?"

"I wasn't expecting…" She glanced to where Skye and Wanda had been standing.

"You told me to move on," Skye said, frowning. "Was that s'posed to be a temporary thing? Until you decided I was probably good enough, at least as a replacement when your boyfriend finally chose his soulmate over you?" Natasha flinched, and Skye felt an unwanted flash of guilt. "That was… okay, that was harsh, and I'm sorry about that. But I'm with Wanda. It's new, and it's nice, and I don't think she'll screw me over like every other romantic relationship I've had before, so that makes a change."

"Thought so," Natasha murmured. "It was the way you looked at each other, but mostly the way you looked at her."

Skye sighed. "It's not your fault. You were with Bruce before. Breaking up with him for me would've been—"

"We weren't together," she said. "But you're right. It would be the same thing I'd be asking you to do."

"Listen… if I can find happiness with some who doesn't have my words on her skin, you can, too."

"I don't think I can," Natasha said, her brow furrowing. "Before Bruce, I would have said I was aromantic." Skye tilted her head. "Incapable of falling in love. But I did… do… did? Have feelings for him."

"Which means you could have feelings for someone else again," Skye said, and she stood up. "I'm sorry… well, not sorry, but it's a shame you didn't want me in the first place. I _am_ sorry, for your sake, that you lost Bruce. That sucks, and I'd hate to lose Wanda, even though she's not my soulmate. You'll just have to find a way around it. There'll be someone else. So…" She looked around uncomfortably. "I guess I'll see you later?"

Natasha nodded silently, which Skye took as her cue to get the hell out of there and find Wanda. She was stopped at the door.

"Can we at least… perhaps be friends?" Natasha asked. "A platonic soulmateship? I think I need a friend more than I need… a partner."

Skye didn't look over her shoulder. "I'm sure that'll be okay. If it's not awkward…"

"Quite," Natasha said. "That… that was all. I'll let you go now."

* * *

Later, with Wanda curled around her, Skye broached the subject of hanging out with Natasha sometimes, the three of them, just as friends.

"What if you choose her over me?" Wanda asked. Skye snorted.

"Not gonna happen," she said. "Just `cause I love a redhead as much as the next girl…" She twined some of Wanda's scarlet hair around her fingers. "When I found out Natasha was my soulmate, I never thought I'd wanna be with a girl, `cause I'd only been with guys before. When it didn't go anywhere, I figured it was a sign. Then _you _came along."

"Are you disappointed?"

"You're the best thing to happen to me since I joined SHIELD, and a _lot's_ happened." Wanda squirmed, and Skye noticed her cheeks darken. "Aw, you're so cute."

"I do my best," Wanda mumbled.

It took a bit of convincing, but Wanda agreed to join them for meals and films, since Skye was determined to make sure that she wasn't jealous, and to make sure that Natasha understood that Skye and Wanda were an item, and wouldn't be separated.

"This is nice," Natasha said, not taking her eyes off the TV screen, where a romantic comedy was playing. Well, it was supposed to be a chick flick, but there was more romance than Skye thought there was going to be, and she wasn't sure whether or not to feel guilty when she saw how white Natasha's lips were, and how Wanda kept glancing between them. Skye squeezed her hand, eliciting an unsure smile from her girlfriend.

"We can't watch action films," Skye told her. "We critique the fight sequences and take all the fun out of it for other people."

"Like an audio commentary?" Wanda said.

"That's a good way of putting it."

After the movie, Wanda hesitated, then pulled out a deck of cards.

"We could play something next?" she suggested. Skye glanced at Natasha, who nodded.

"Okay, babe," she said. "What'd you have in mind?"

* * *

Steve watched his soulmate closely as they walked. Phil was wearing glasses for now, which Fitz had knocked up between reaffirming his bond with Pietro. Phil looked edible in his specs, and it took a lot of self-restraint to stop Steve pushing him up against the nearest available surface.

"How do you feel?" he asked softly. Phil didn't wince as much anymore. He was fine with loud music; it was when people spoke to him that it hurt. He was getting used to the volume, but Steve didn't want him to go deaf, not when he liked the sounds Steve made.

"It's not so bad," Phil replied. "I think when I learn how to use them, my powers will be less of a bother."

"I'm sure you're right," Steve said. "Do you know how you'll go about it?"

"Simmons," he said. "And you." He slipped his hand into Steve's. "I can't believe how lucky I am."

"Neither can I. Who doesn't have a soulmate around here?"

"Most of my team. I'm in no rush to pair them off with anyone, to tell the truth; it's bad enough whenever I'm near Fitz and Pietro after they've been…" He cleared his throat, and Steve grinned.

"What about after _we've_…?" he said. "Sure it's about the sex, not the emotions?"

"How can a person _smell_ emotions?" Phil said. "That doesn't make sense."

"Dogs can do it," Steve said. "They can smell fear. Humans can smell arousal. Hell, if you can scent that a woman's on her… menstrual cycle," he turned red in the cheeks, "then you can tell her emotions are gonna be higher than usual. Maybe one day you'll even be able to tell if a woman is pregnant, or if someone is sick?"

"Can't you?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"Nah," Steve said. "I had to get used to it, and I just use my heightened senses for work. Yours are for telling how a person is feeling; it's different."

"Oh, joy."

"Cheer up." Steve elbowed him gently. "Means we get to spend more time with each other and call it 'work'."

"And do _other_ things and call it 'work'," Phil murmured, looking Steve over in _that_ way, which nearly always led to interesting things.

* * *

After their first real night together, where Wanda didn't leave before Skye woke up, she grimaced at a burning itch at the base of her spine. She went into the bathroom, pulled up her pyjama top, and looked at her lower back.

Her blood ran cold. She had a soulmark. She wasn't close enough to read it, and it was backwards from the mirror, but she didn't want to show Skye. She'd lose her for sure.

"Wanda? Where…? You didn't leave again, did you? Shit, she left again," she heard Skye mutter. Wanda poked her head back into the bedroom, and felt bad when she saw Skye's look of relief. This didn't have to change anything, did it? Skye chose Wanda.

The same itching sensation was on her leg as well, and she feared the possibility of _two_ soulmates. How could she leave both? Not that there was anything to leave. She was with Skye, no one else.

"What's wrong?" Skye asked, her eyebrows drawn together. Wanda resisted the urge to scratch her leg, and wandered back to the bed, where Skye was rubbing her arm. She winced, and raised the sleeve of the top. Wanda cocked her head when Skye gasped, stomach sinking with dread.

"You have another soulmark?" she said dully. It was worse when Skye smiled, blinding in its intensity. Wanda turned her back, sitting on the edge of the bed and waiting to be told to leave.

"Yeah," Skye breathed. "The first words you said to me."

"What?" Wanda whirled around, and saw her writing really was there. "That's… that's impossible."

"Nothing's impossible in soulmateship," Skye said. "Simmons is always telling me that."

"What does this say?" she asked, showing Skye her back.

"Uh… not my first words to you."

"Oh." Wanda remembered the other strange feeling, and raised her pant leg. "This?"

"What…? Yes! That's my writing! But this other handwriting is familiar…" She trailed off. "The first thing you said to Natasha was 'Hello', wasn't it?"

"Possibly."

"Because… this is the same writing of my other mark."

"…Natasha is our soulmate? I mean, I'm your soulmate?"

"It's `cause we _chose_," Skye said, and she hugged Wanda from behind, laughing. "Oh my God. This is _awesome_. We have to find her. Come on."

* * *

**Well! Another long chapter. I've been working on this for awhile, and finally finished it. Obviously. In honour of it being the 100****th**** chapter, Trip lives! And everyone on the team gets powers! And Capsicoul! Now, do I leave the fic here and start a new one so that the pairing tags on AO3 don't get out of control, or do I just keep going like ozhawk has?**

**I wasn't kidding about the chicken yesterday. It visited again today. Only got as far as the door before I grabbed my phone to try to take a picture. Then it took off. Obviously a camera-shy chook. Ah well. Maybe I'll get lucky and catch a picture of it some other time? As long as nothing happens to the books…**

**Okay! I've written Fitz/Pietro and Phil/Steve before. Natasha/Skye was requested by kogouma, Anna, Tab, and Natasha_Romanov181001. Kind of overwhelming, really, so fic was inevitable. I wasn't sure how to end it, to tell the truth, and decided just to make a threesome soulmateship so that no one was left broken-hearted. Hmm. So it started as Natasha/Skye, went to Skye/Wanda, then ended up with Natasha/Skye/Wanda, or at least strongly implied.**

**Please review! Ooh, and I've created the Bucky/Phil Tumblr thing. The URL is phuckyarchive dot tumblr dot com.**


	101. Double Meaning (Bucky x Phil x Sam)

**Note: Spoilers for 'Age of Ultron' and season two finale of 'Agents of SHIELD'. I apologise. I'll try not to write too many spoilery chapters, but I can't really promise anything. (And there's the usual, all-important fix-it.)**

"Double Meaning"

Ending the call with a sigh, Phil rubbed his eyes one at a time. Good thing he was right-handed. Maybe he'd _subconsciously_ reached out for the crystal with his left hand? Well, whatever the case, he now had a group of angry superheroes, half of them refusing to speak to him and the other half complete strangers. Not _complete_, of course; Fury had sent him a full report with all the information he could find on the new Avengers.

He looked up when he heard the 'ping!' of a new email, and clicked to open it. Good luck to any potential hackers; SHIELD had Skye.

'Hi, Director Coulson. My name's Sam Wilson. I'm with the Avengers. Since we've never met, I've got no beef with you. If you want, I can visit your base and report back to them? And report to you on the team. Be the go-between, or whatever you want to call it. What do you say?'

Of course Phil was going to be suspicious about it; so he had Skye trace the email, go through everything connected to it, and make sure that it really was The Falcon contacting him, and not… someone else. Just because HYDRA was gone didn't mean there weren't enemies of SHIELD out there. Hell, Ward had dropped off the radar…

"Looks like it is him," Skye said. "Either that, or whoever created the account – or is using it – is a better hacker than me."

"Not possible," Phil said, and he patted her on the shoulder. "Thanks, Skye."

"Want me to be your secretary?"

"No, thanks. Fitz's voice-recognition program will do just fine."

Once he was alone, Phil dictated a reply, and then edited it manually. He attached his electronic signature, sent the message, and sat back to wait for a reply. It took longer than he expected, and was a quick 'I'll see you tomorrow'. Still, better than nothing, and it gave Phil time to prepare.

Another email – again, sourced and confirmed by Skye – arranged a time and a place, and Phil was unaccountably nervous, going so far as to debate over which tie to wear. When May finally shoved him out of the van, he nearly stumbled, and glared back over his shoulder at her.

"I should be helping with Simmons," he began.

"And how many doctorates do you have?" she asked. He opened and closed his mouth. "I'll come find you after I've parked."

"You mean you're leaving me alone for more than two minutes?" he said, widening his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. A look from May had him closing the door, and he wandered over to the café Sam had specified. While he waited, he fiddled with the packets of sugar, and wondered for the hundredth time whether he'd done the right thing with Cal. The man was unpredictable; there was no telling whether he'd try to make contact with Skye despite his promise, and Phil didn't want to lose her trust. But really, after he'd been subjected to TAHITI himself? Did she honestly think he'd be okay with rewriting her father's memory like that?

No. It was important to have Cal on the outside. No one would ever suspect him of working with SHIELD, and especially not with Phil. The perfect spy, and a strong one at that. And a spy working as a vet? Yeah, pretty good idea. Cal's, actually.

A shadow fell over the table, and when Phil glanced up he remembered why he was there. His breath caught, and he went to stand when the man – Sam Wilson – waved him back down, then held out his hand for a brief shake.

"I'm your brand new _liaison_, sir," Sam said, and he sat down, eyes trained on Phil's.

No. No, couldn't be. Phil was usually the liaison, he could admit that, but it'd always partially been an exercise in trying to find his soulmate. He'd still never heard those words before, not until now, guarding them jealously from anyone at SHIELD who might exploit them (remarkable hindsight considering HYDRA's infiltration). Still, it _couldn't_ be Sam Wilson… could it?

Though it'd explain his boyish crush on Fury when they'd first met.

Judging by Sam's growing smile, he _knew_. He… Well, shit. He must've recognised the writing from Phil's signature. 'Liaison' was obviously the keyword, which means that it was in Sam's soulmark. And that grin…

"'Liaison' has a double meaning, you know," he finally said.

"I look forward to exploring _both_ with you," Sam said, his smile widening to implausible proportions.

"Really?" Phil said, disbelieving. "You…"

"Have been waiting to meet you my whole life, Phil Coulson."

"Just…" He smiled slowly. "Call me Phil."

"Then I guess you'd better call me Sam."

He settled back in his seat, relaxing further. "So I guess we'd better get to know each other."

"Do we have time before your agent comes back?"

"Who, May? She'll want to interrogate you, because she's my friend, and… well, we all have trust issues."

"Amen to that."

"And you should probably also know that her ex-husband is a psychology professor."

Sam inhaled through his teeth. "A friend who's an agent, whose ex is…? Yeah, okay, sounds like I should be nervous."

"But she can't ignore the words," Phil said. "She's… never seen mine, but she knows my writing from all the reports over the years, so she'd—"

"I'm not showing her either of my soulmarks. Not where they're positioned…" He cleared his throat, and Phil could swear his cheeks darkened. "Not doing that."

Phil grinned. "Now I'm curious."

"You were gonna be curious anyway, Mr. Director Sir."

"But now I'm even _more_ curious."

"Uh…" Sam glanced to the side. "That her?"

Phil tilted his head, indicating for May to join them. "How'd you guess?"

"The all-black costume stands out a bit," he replied.

"…Fair point." He looked up as May reached the table. "Coffee?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Tea. Agent Thirty-Three is dead, remember?"

"Sorry. Habit. This is Sam Wilson." He grinned. "My soulmate."

"…Did you know that before?" she asked as Sam brought over a chair for her.

"Nope, but he did," Phil said.

"You still send out that electronic signature?" 'You _idiot_' was implied.

"Okay, I'll stop after this," he said, holding up his hand in surrender. He almost raised the other one, remembering at the last moment that he only had… well. Sam cocked his head, forehead creasing slightly, and Phil decided it was best to be honest from the start. He cleared his throat, and then rested his left arm on the table. Sam almost reached for it, the movement aborted as he withdrew his hand.

"Was it HYDRA?" he asked.

"For once, no, it wasn't," Phil said. "I caught a weapon which turns people… most people to dust. One of my agents already had an axe, and acted quickly. If he hadn't chopped off my hand… it was already turning to dust, so. He saved my life."

"Thank God for that," Sam said. "Does it…?"

"Doesn't hurt. Feels weird as hell, hard to describe…"

"It always is."

"You've worked with amputees," May said.

"And I'll continue when we finally catch up with the Winter Soldier, aka Bucky Barnes," Sam said. Phil and May glanced at each other. "You… _did_ know about that, right?"

May spoke for Phil. "We haven't had any contact with the Avengers. Not until yesterday."

"Your soulmate is one," Sam said, tentatively resting his hand over Phil's stump. He was still getting used to there being nothing but air where there should've been a hand. Fitz was too worried about Simmons to work on a prosthesis, but Phil knew that once they'd solved one problem, his engineer would be on to the next one. With Simmons's and Mack's help, undoubtedly. When everything was alright again. Back to normal. Not that their lives could ever be considered _normal_. "Hey. Phil?"

"Hmm?"

"Drink?"

They all placed their orders with the blonde waitress, who then bustled off. Sam resumed the conversation.

"You should come by the tower," he said. "See old friends, make new ones. Clint and Natasha have been telling the twins all about you… you know, when they thought you were still dead. Now the kids and Vision wanna meet you, and Rhodey wants to see you, since you never got much of a chance to talk. I'm sure Pepper wants to slug you for staying dead for so long—"

"Hardly my fault that I was brought back after five days," Phil muttered.

"…I meant dead in inverted commas. I choose to be concerned about the fact that you… were dead for nearly a _week_?"

"Wait, I thought I told Stark the details of my resurrection?"

"He didn't relay the entire conversation, and FRIDAY is still getting her cyber-feet. I didn't get to know JARVIS all that well, and his loss… It hit the team hard after they had time to mourn. Stark hangs out more at his tower than at the Avengers facility with us."

"Probably punishing himself," Phil said. "Don't let him wallow too much. He has a history of self-destructive behaviour, though I'm sure you already know that."

"I'd know more if he talked to me," Sam said. "But I'm on the team for combat, not to act as Avenger therapist."

"If you need any help in finding… the captain's friend," and the fact that Bucky Barnes was still alive was giving him a minor internal freak-out, "please let me know. My hacker is talented at finding information other people want hidden. If anyone can find… him, she's one of the few."

"I'll let Steve know," Sam said.

"Waitress is coming back," May said. Phil brought his arm back to his side, aware that it could be disconcerting for people to see his injury.

"You should swing by our place, too," Phil said. "How'd you get here?"

"I was dropped off."

"We could take you back, return you to your team later?"

Sam grinned. "Sounds great to me."

* * *

"Where've you been?" Steve asked, looking up when Sam walked into the common area of the tower.

"With my soulmate."

Steve gaped. "Really? Who is it?"

"Never you mind," Sam said. "I'm not scaring him off by introducing you to him right at the start."

He snorted. "I wouldn't scare anyone off."

"Not risking it. Sorry, Steve."

"So… does he know who your third is?"

The mark had appeared not all that long ago, so the chance had been slim. Sam had told Steve that he had a new mark, but not what it said, and it wasn't exactly good etiquette to show anyone outside of the family, especially if the bond was meant to be non-platonic; and Sam was definitely hoping for non-platonic.

"He hasn't met the new one," he replied. "But we've got each other's numbers and email addresses. He promised to let me know if he met our third first."

"They'd be extremely young, if they were born with your marks."

"We're hoping it's a former Blank," Sam said. "I wasn't born with my mark for him, either, remember?"

"Yeah, that's right." Steve beamed. "I'm very happy for you, Sam. And I'll work on being less scary so you can introduce us sooner."

He rolled his eyes. "Sure, Steve."

In the end, Sam was the one to meet their third soulmate first.

* * *

"Bucky!" Steve shouted when the Winter Soldier began to back off towards the end of the roof. "Please, come with me. We'll get you help. I know someone who works with people like us."

"Stay back!" Bucky called, shrinking away. "I don't wanna hurt anyone. If you get too close, I might…"

"Might what?"

"Revert. I-I don't know. I don't feel stable."

"Well, you're nearly at the edge of the building, and I still remember too damn well seeing you fall into a ravine!" Steve snapped. "So just stay where you are. I'll stay here, and you can come to me when you're ready."

"You shouldn't've come for me. Should've let me finish hunting down HYDRA. When I've made up for… for everything… all the people I killed…"

"The Asset," Steve said. "That wasn't you. You're Sergeant James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes. My best buddy, the only guy who'll remember the old days. Please, Buck. You're not the Asset anymore. You're _you_, or you would've tried to kill me by now."

"And what if I _do_ try an' kill you if you get too close?" Bucky said. "I can't risk it, Stevie."

"You… you called me Stevie. Only Bucky Barnes calls me Stevie."

"Please, I'm no good for you," he said weakly. "I'm no good for anyone."

"That's not true. Let me help you. Let _Sam_ help you."

"…Sam?"

"He helps soldiers who are having trouble."

"_Sam_?"

"Sam Wilson."

Bucky tripped backwards over the building's edge. He… he didn't _want_ to die. He—

Before his life could flash before his eyes – again – something swooped out of nowhere and grabbed hold of him. He saw wings, and threw his arms around the bird's (whatever it was) neck. Those were definitely arms around his back, and he was pretty sure it was a human – a _winged_ human – holding him.

Wait. Winged human. The guy who'd been fighting Bucky when HYDRA…?

"Hey, gorgeous, I'm Sam Wilson," the man said, smiling at Bucky from behind goggles. "Where've you been?"

Bucky was already having trouble catching his breath. This just made it ten times harder, and his chest pressed against Sam's. He felt his feet touch something, and realised they were on the ground. Sam steadied him, but Bucky didn't want to let go. He looked Sam over, and stared as the wings retracted into some kind of backpack.

"Wow," he murmured, and he met Sam's eyes, easier with the goggles removed. "I don't know what to say. Thank you?"

"…You're kidding me."

Bucky quickly let go and backed off. "I'm sorry. I'll… I'll go—"

"No!" Sam grasped Bucky's wrist. "_I'm_ sorry. It's just we've been looking for you, and _we've_ met before, but I guess… I don't know what changed."

"Completely broke my programming? I don't know."

"But the other thing that makes this crazy…" Sam smiled. "I met our other soulmate only a few days ago. Meeting both of you in one week? Never expected that."

"Oh. If you…" Bucky looked down and cleared his throat. "If you're already together—"

"I've spent a total of about four hours with him, on that one day, and half of it was shop talk. We only had about forty-five minutes alone together getting to know each other. Haven't even kissed yet. Believe me, there hasn't been time for anything else to happen. And now we've got you, we don't have to wait so long."

"You would've waited?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "If we found out our third was a baby, probably not. Not in our line of work. It'd be nice to have that long-life guarantee, but I think we both knew it'd be an adult."

Bucky looked down at his pale hands, enclosed in Sam's dark ones. Hands which had spilt so much blood for the enemy.

"Stevie… said you could help?"

"Yeah, I can help," Sam said. "Both of you."

"Can we help you?"

"I'll think of something, sweetheart. Now c'mon. You can stay with me. Got a spare room. Or if you want, you could stay with Phil."

"Phil?"

"Don't… tell any of the others who our soulmate is," Sam said, eyebrows drawing together. "They used to know him, and they'd thought for the last three years that he was dead. They're pissed off at him at the moment, so I haven't told them who my soulmate is. Please… if they find out… I don't know what'll happen."

"I won't say a word," Bucky said. "I promise."

"Good." Sam kissed him gently on the cheek, and Bucky was pretty sure he blushed. "I gotta call him when we get back to the tower."

"Can I… stay in your spare room? Really?"

"Yes, you can."

Bucky laced their fingers together as Sam led him towards the others, who were waiting by the car. There was a noticeable halt in conversation when they got close.

"Can't believe you called me 'gorgeous'," Bucky muttered.

"Wait, that's in your soulmark?"

"Along with your name."

"You'll have to show me later," Sam said, a twinkle in his eye.

* * *

Phil was rarely antsy, but he was allowed to be. He was going to meet _Bucky Barnes_, which would've made his day any time of his life. But the same man was his other soulmate. All three of them would be together. It would be magical.

"Stop it," May said. "You'll ruin my work."

He lowered his hand from his tie. Andrew was terrible at knots, so May had become adept at tying them, and she'd been performing the same task for him ever since Simmons disappeared, and she'd postponed her leave. She was giving Skye lessons, using Phil and sometimes Andrew as test subjects, but he suspected she wouldn't leave until they knew what had happened to Simmons… one way or another.

"You're thinking about her again."

"Maybe they'll distract me for awhile," he said. Just then, Mack arrived at the base, and Skye buzzed him in. When they climbed off the aircraft, it took May's hand on Phil's arm to keep him from running up to them.

"Hey, Phil!" Sam called. He clapped Mack on the back. "Thanks for the ride, man."

"No problem," Mack said. He glanced at Bucky – Sam had told Phil that he was going by the nickname, surprisingly – and then returned to his current project, probably as suspicious as ever. Considering how often things could go wrong with this team… it was a justifiable concern. Hmm.

"Bucky, this is Phil," Sam said, ushering Bucky closer. Phil held out his hand.

"It's wonderful to meet you, it really is," he gushed. "I never thought…" He trailed off, and let go when Bucky continued to stare at him blankly. "Sorry. That was—"

"Don't apologise," Bucky said, and Phil's heart sped up dangerously. "I'm… happy to meet you, too."

Phil smiled widely. "Thank God. Both of you in one week. I can't believe it."

"I had trouble believing it, too," Sam said. "I guess I should be used to crazy shit by now, getting involved with the Avengers…"

"Where would the fun be in life it we didn't have the unexpected to look forward to?"

"Some unexpected things aren't for the best," May muttered. "I'll keep the kids in the lab."

"Thanks," Phil said. "Bucky, this is Agent May."

"Nice to meet you," Bucky said, though he seemed uncertain. Phil wanted to wrap him up in cotton wool and protect him from the evils of the world, after everything he'd suffered.

"I'll see you later," May said, and she headed for Mack.

"Come this way," Phil said, and he led his soulmates to the common area. Bucky looked around.

"Looks like a lot of vessels I've been on," he said. "Something's different, though."

"Not everyone here is ex-military, and… well, we don't have many homes."

"Phil… I can call you Phil?"

He smiled over his shoulder when they reached the office door. "Of course. I can call you Bucky, can't I? Sam said—"

Bucky nodded. "Yeah. Please do. But I was wondering…" His gaze slipped down Phil's left arm to its abrupt ending. Phil had been waiting for that. He unlocked the office door and waved them in, before following, and then locking the door again.

"How much has Sam told you?" he asked.

"He said we had a few things in common," Bucky said. They all sat down, and he rested his metal hand on the top of the desk. Phil tried not to look envious. "But you haven't got one of these."

"Not yet," Phil said. "Fitz is going to work on it."

"I'm sure Tony—" Sam began.

"No," he replied. "Not gonna happen. He wouldn't want to… just, no. Fitz has confidence issues, and he'll need something to distract him while we wait for… It's a project." He shrugged. "He likes projects."

"Can I ask what happened?"

"If that's the case… I think I should start from the beginning. It'll take awhile…?"

Bucky half-smiled. "I've got all day for my soulmates."

* * *

Natasha scowled at the screen. "When are you coming back?" she asked Sam.

"When we're ready," he said.

"You know you and Barnes can bond at Stark Tower," she said. "There's no need to go anywhere else. Steve said that he can't hear you from where he is."

Sam looked bashful, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh-huh? Should've taken his super senses into consideration, I guess."

"He would've told you if there was a problem."

"Any sign of Banner yet?"

Her eyes narrowed further. "Don't change the subject."

"That an order, Ms. Romanov?"

"Bring your third if you all need to be together to bond," she continued. "Tony doesn't have a problem with it, and Steve," her lips twitched at the corners, "said that he's trying to be less 'scary'. If you need the rest of us out of the way at first…"

"No," he said. "And no bonding yet. We're still getting to know each other."

"You've been disappearing on and off for three weeks," she said.

Sam shrugged. "Bucky and I have elected ourselves co-liaisons."

"For what?" She couldn't help feeling suspicious.

"…SHIELD?"

Natasha gritted her teeth. "Sam…"

"You owe Phil… you owe Director Coulson better than this," he said, though his slip didn't escape her notice. Seemed he'd been spending a lot of time at SHIELD as well. Maybe this business of having a third soulmate was just a cover?

"He owed us the truth," she said stiffly. "Which he chose to hide from us."

"You'd know all about keeping secrets, wouldn't you?" Sam said. She tilted her chin up, but he didn't apologise for his abruptness. "Look, he provided the Helicarrier which helped you save all those Latverians. Where Pietro got his life-saving medical care?"

She swallowed. "That was SHIELD, not Coulson."

"And he's the _director_. He funded the Helicarrier, contributed to the new Avengers base. You don't think Stark and Fury were the sole benefactors, did you?"

"Sam—"

"We'll see you when we get back." He hung up, and Natasha blinked in surprise at the suddenly-blank screen. She turned to Steve, who'd just entered the room, frowning.

"You don't know when they'll be back?" he asked.

"Clearly," she said. He sighed.

"They're really talking to SHIELD?"

"Yes."

"I… I don't think I'm comfortable with that."

"Then tell them," she said, walking past him. "They won't listen to me."

"Coulson has his people," Steve said. It sounded like he was trying to reassure himself of something. "And Bucky and Sam have their third soulmate."

"Have you _seen_ their soulmarks?" Natasha asked. He paused, then shook his head.

"Sam said they're in delicate places," he said. "Not ones he's willing to show off."

"You don't think it's an excuse to liaise with SHIELD? It was one hell of a coincidence that he met Bucky only a few days later. And they were talking privately before returning to us after we retrieved Bucky. It's possible that Bucky will do anything to please his soulmate, including going along with a lie."

Steve frowned. "But… Sam wouldn't lie like that, and Bucky definitely wouldn't—"

"Wake up, Steve!" she snapped. "It's happening again. More secrets from SHIELD. Trust me; I saw plenty of them during my time, kept some as well."

"I remember," he said frostily.

"For all we know, Coulson asked them to lie to us. He's big on secrets these days. I don't know what kind of incentive he offered, what excuse he fed them, but now that he's the new Fury he could be playing _any_ kind of end-game, and Sam and Bucky have become caught in it. Do you want that to happen? We're better off without SHIELD complicating things and manipulating us."

"Natasha—"

"I'm _done_ with it, Steve!" She clenched her hands into fists. "I've been burned before by SHIELD. Can you honestly say that you believe, one hundred percent, that Bucky and Sam have a third, that it's not a cover for meeting Coulson? Because they can't be spending much time with another soulmate – who, for some reason, they won't introduce to us – if they're liaising with SHIELD a few times a week."

"Unless their soulmate is SHIELD?" he suggested, but it sounded weak, even from him.

"Ask them outright if their soulmate is an agent. Send them a message right now."

Steve sighed, and Natasha looked over his shoulder as he sent a text: 'Does your third work for Coulson?' Both replies took a little while, but they were both in the negative.

"See?" Natasha said.

"As long as their third isn't HYDRA," Steve said.

"You're the leader; it's your call," she said, but her tone implied plenty.

* * *

"It's not fair," Bucky said stubbornly. "We'll stay."

"You're needed elsewhere," Phil said, wishing that he had two hands so he could touch both of them at once. Sam and Bucky cupped his right hand; he felt dizzy sometimes, if someone touched the end of his arm where there should've been flesh and bone.

"We're your soulmates," Sam reminded him.

"I know, and you're also superheroes. Bucky, you deserve the chance to wipe out whatever red in your ledger you think you have. You can both do so much more good as part-time savers of the world than full-time SHIELD agents. Sam, your vets need you. And you'll have each other."

"And who will _you_ have?" Bucky asked, sounding almost jealous. Phil shrugged.

"Work," he said. "My people. I've gotten by on it for a long time. I'm too busy to give you the attention you deserve. Please, don't worry about me. Just keep in touch so I know you're okay. You have my secret number and email address. Hell, do smoke signals if necessary. Start Twitter accounts for me to follow. And stay safe, okay?"

"Don't make us leave," Bucky said. "Please, Phil?"

"It's not like we bonded," he whispered. "You won't miss me. Please… you're making this harder than it needs to be."

"It _is_ hard. It's the hardest thing."

"I… I wish things could be different," Sam said. "It's useless asking you to leave SHIELD, isn't it?"

Phil nodded. "And we can't exactly combine the Avengers and SHIELD, not when they're requesting a split."

"More like my asshole ex-best friend makin' it an order," Bucky muttered.

"You'll be fine without me," Phil said. They'd never even kissed. It's not that he didn't want to; but he'd suspected this would happen, and made sure they wouldn't get attached. Still hurt like hell, but he took solace in that they'd have each other. Even though he'd be back to being alone… he'd never really been with them. He didn't say it, but he hoped they'd bond with each other.

"I'll miss our talks," he said, and he squeezed their hands once, before removing his from their grasp. "Things will go back to normal, though."

"This has been my normal since I got back," Bucky said. There was a tremor in his voice, and Phil felt like a heel. But Steve had indeed pretty much ordered a complete separation from SHIELD, which included an end to all liaisons.

"Bucky—"

He was cut off when Bucky cupped his cheeks and kissed him fiercely. Phil blinked back the tears which wanted desperately to spill over, but he did allow himself to kiss back for a second, before retreating. Bucky's cheeks were soaked, and it nearly killed him to smile as though everything was alright.

"What a send-off," he said lightly. "But you have to go now. For real this time."

Bucky whirled around and left. Sam hesitated, then shook Phil's hand, the pain in his eyes obvious. Phil's heart broke as he watched his soulmates leave.

But it was for the best, the only way. The Avengers hated him, Steve had forbidden contact – Phil bet at Natasha's suggestion – and he couldn't let Sam and Bucky leave the team so soon after joining, when they could make a huge difference as Avengers.

"That was stupid," May said. Phil nodded.

"Biggest mistake of my life," he said. "But a necessary one."

* * *

They still had no idea what had happened to Simmons. The Koenig brothers were working on a theory they'd developed ever since first encountering the box (Phil was pissed that they'd kept its existence secret for so long, although they'd thought the ship was at the bottom of the ocean, or in HYDRA's possession). In the meantime, Fitz spent half his time being a nuisance while trying to solve the problem, and the other half beating himself up for being the apparent cause of the box opening like that.

Which meant that it was going on four months since Phil had lost a third of his arm, and he still didn't have a prosthesis. He was aware that finding Simmons – if she was still alive – was a priority. He'd called Heimdall, asked if the man/god/whatever could keep an eye out for her, and to let Sif know if she came across any more Kree who could explain it. Skye kept bugging him to let her open the box, and he kept pointing out that whatever was in there was supposed to be deadly towards Inhumans.

Phil was tempted to ask Stark to make him a prosthetic arm like Bucky's, some kind of replacement, because he needed an engineer of that skill to manufacture something. The research and development department was focussing on Simmons' disappearance. It was hard to be disappointed when one of his agents, one of the people he trusted implicitly and who'd risked life and limb going undercover, was missing due to a foreign object which had apparently swallowed her whole.

And if they got her back… would she ever be the same?

Shit. Sometimes he really hated being the director of SHIELD. He almost missed the good old days. Even though HYDRA was around, at least he wasn't in charge of these messes. Before the TAHITI program was started, he was slated to be liaison to and handler of the Avengers. No more. There was no way Stark would ever help him, either as director or a former… well, not friend, never that. But someone who'd worked with him. And there was no guarantee that Stark wouldn't put in a tracking chip; if Phil was going to have that in his arm, Fitz and Skye were putting it in, _not_ Iron Man.

He tried to cheer himself up reading the latest email from Bucky, who was surprisingly more prolific than Sam when it came to news.

'_I think having low expectations is definitely the way to go_,' he'd written. '_Steve was surprised when _I _was surprised that coffee was a hell of a lot cheaper than I thought it'd be. And some people aren't so bad. I still don't like the whole team. Rhodey's a swell guy. He knows how to keep Stark in line. Everyone likes Vision. I'm not sure about the twins. I still haven't met Thor, but his girlfriend says he's due back any day now. That could just be wishful thinking, the Black Widow says. She's still pining for the Hulk, wherever he is. She told us they're soulmates, but I dunno. If they are, I understand how she feels, but I sure don't feel sorry for her. Sam and me are pretty sure she told Steve to split from SHIELD._' As Phil had suspected. She was trained to be extremely suspicious.

'_Movie nights are weird. I don't know what happened to films. They're trying to get me and Steve up to speed, but we just wanna see things which interest us. I know we shouldn't 'wallow in nostalgia', as Sam puts it, but what's wrong with watching things from our generation, huh? It'd be nice to see some Ruby Keeler or Clark Gable or… I dunno, classic Disney films? All the line drawings, not this computer-generated junk._'

"Poor Bucky," Phil murmured. There was really nothing like the classics. He'd have to suggest some of his favourite modern films, since chances were they'd share similar tastes. They certainly did in music, judging by their discussions, and what they'd listened to when talking, or playing card games.

'_We're still trying to work out some way to get back together. I know you want us to bond without you, but that's not happening. It's with you or not at all._'

He sighed, frustrated by how noble his soulmates were being. If they bonded and then spent too much time away from each other, it would hurt. Didn't they know that? He was trying to spare them pain.

* * *

"Fucking HYDRA again," Steve said, running into the kitchen in full uniform. He grabbed a bottle of water and an energy bar. "I swear to God, one of these days I'll…"

"I thought they were gone," Rhodey said, frowning.

"Turns out some guy named Ward is trying to restart the organisation. It's like the Nazis; they disbanded and went into hiding. Just a matter of gathering the remainder together and organising them into another pain in the ass."

"I'll get the suit," Tony said. "`Bout time for another showdown."

Sam and Bucky glanced at each other, and nodded.

"I'll get my wings," Sam said.

"I'm not gonna bother gettin' changed," Bucky said. "Don't need a special outfit unless I wanna make `em piss themselves when they realise who I am."

By the time they got to the shoot-out, more ex-agents had emerged from the woodwork and were making nuisances of themselves against the diminished forces of SHIELD.

"We'll handle it!" Coulson snapped over the comms. "This isn't an Avengers matter."

"Some of us worked for SHIELD once," Steve replied, targeting another group behind wooden boxes.

"And then you turned your back on us, so I'm none the wiser—"

"They're HYDRA, okay?"

"Where were you all these months we've been taking them down without your assistance? Even the military isn't always on our side, though I understand Talbot's reasoning. But it's still—" There were shots, and Coulson swore. "Goddamnit, I just got this cleaned. Where the hell's that gun…?"

"Phil, wait where you are," Sam said. "Bucky's on his way to help you."

"Don't worry about me, Sam. I'll be okay."

"But your arm—"

"Forget about it! Take out whoever you can. I'll be fine. May's nearby, and Skye's…"

Steve was suspicious, and decided the best thing to do was get to Coulson and find out what was being kept from them. Natasha was on her way, though, so he stayed where he was. Where did this Ward guy get all these people from? Shit. Cut off one head, indeed.

As he ran, he noticed an unarmed woman holding out her hands, somehow sending ammunition back towards the agents. But there were too many, and one of them shot her, knocking her to the ground. He heard Coulson shout "Skye!", and saw the agent run out of the van and to her side. He used his body to shove her out of the line of fire, and turned around, shooting at various targets. Steve had heard he was good, and was surprised that he was only using one gun, when he should've been good with both…

Oh.

"You only have one hand, Coulson?" he asked. Some of the others said "What?", and he heard the director's aggravated sigh.

"Piss off, captain," he said. "We're nearly done. The day you give a damn about us…"

Steve flinched back, and a bullet grazed his arm due to his distraction. Hawkeye took out the sniper, and the battle was soon wrapped up, mainly thanks to SHIELD. Sam disconnected his comm. unit and ran to help with first aid. Steve almost joined them, but realised that Coulson wouldn't welcome him. He couldn't exactly blame the director, and met up with the others. Bucky had followed Sam.

"They didn't tell you about Coulson's arm?" Tony asked, retracting the faceplate.

"No," Steve said. "Did any of you know?" They all shook their heads.

"Why doesn't he have a prosthetic replacement?" Tony said, looking towards the group.

"Maybe he does, and just doesn't wear it for…?" No. Stupid question. Of course he'd wear it for battle situations, the one damn time it'd be the most useful.

"I'll have to make one. If we had Bruce with us it'd be much easier, but I guess…"

"They'd have their own engineer and biologist, wouldn't they?" Rhodey said.

"I… I don't know," Steve mumbled. "I hope so?"

"We don't know much about their setup," Tony said. "Dad and Aunt Peggy would be disappointed. But… but they let HYDRA into SHIELD in the first place!"

"Make whatever excuses you want," Steve said. "But I'm gonna make it up to them."

"You really think he will accept your help?" Wanda asked. "It seems as though he would be happier if you stayed away."

"He's just sore `cause we've been ignoring them. If we—"

"You have much making up to do," she said firmly. "All of you. You chose to abandon them, when it seems they desperately need help."

They were all silent for a minute. Then Tony sighed.

"I'd better get Agent's measurements for a robo-arm," he said.

* * *

Phil was on edge; he couldn't help it. He'd seen Stark's assessing looks while they were cleaning up, chivvying the Avengers away when necessary, and he ignored the billionaire's text messages after he saw they were requests to meet Phil for measurements. He knew what Stark wanted to measure, and he wasn't taking this opportunity from Fitz. If Phil got Stark to make him a prosthesis, quite aside from any unknown elements (Bucky had told him some of the additions Stark wanted to make to his arm), Fitz would be hurt that Phil hadn't gone to him first.

But it's not like he hadn't asked Fitz about it. The engineer had promised to work on something when Simmons was back, because they needed her input. And if Phil continued to think with his heart when it came to his original team, instead of thinking like a SHIELD director…

He checked Stark's last message, and his thumb hovered over the reply button.

He'd give Fitz one last chance. They were doing all they could to find Simmons, and Fitz was neglecting pretty much everything else in favour of fretting. It had to stop.

"Fitz?" he said, entering the vault. Fitz was sitting there, as usual, running calculations on a StarkPad and staring at the rock.

"Yeah?" Fitz said vaguely, clearly not paying attention. Phil raised his eyebrows.

"Are you ready to start work on a prosthetic arm?" he asked.

"Eh… no. No, I'm not."

"…Fitz, I don't want to rush you, but you're not making any headway here. You need something else to work on, to take your mind off—"

"I _don't_ want to take my mind off it!" Fitz stood up, clenching the computer in his hands.

"This isn't healthy—"

"It's my fault Simmons is stuck in there! I'm not abandoning her, like she… she…"

"She was on assignment at HYDRA," Phil reminded him. "The point is, you're not the only person working on getting her out, if she's even still in there."

Fitz shook his head. "It's my responsibility—"

"You're an agent of SHIELD!" Phil snapped. "Your responsibility is to work on tech for the organisation and the people who are a part of it. I can't function like this. I could barely protect Skye because I could only fire with one gun. Simmons would understand. She didn't mope while you were recovering. She went undercover at HYDRA, because that's what we do. We risk our lives doing what's right. You need to—"

"I don't care!" Fitz raised his hands, running fingers through his hair. "She's gone and it's my fault, and I need to do this."

"It's not your choice to make. If you don't want to work on my arm, fine, but find something else to do, for God's sake—"

"How dare you tell me what to do?" Fitz hissed. Phil's jaw dropped, but he pulled himself together.

"I dare because I'm your boss," he said quietly. The colour drained from Fitz's cheeks. "You want to stay here? Fine. But you're not being paid for it. I'll find someone else to do your work. There are jobless people out there who'd kill for this opportunity."

He turned on his heel and strode out. Fitz wasn't in any state to help, and Phil wasn't keen on the idea of his arm going boom because Fitz wasn't up to his usual standard.

Dr. Banner was gone… but Bobbi was a bio-scientist. Maybe Phil could ask her? It was work she could do sitting down. She could use the distraction, and she needed to be reminded that she was more than just a talented field agent.

* * *

They were lounging around the common area after lunch when Steve looked across to where Sam and Bucky were curled up in a large armchair together.

"Why'd you stop meeting your soulmate?" he asked. They looked at each other.

"We… we just did," Sam said.

"I thought so," Natasha said. His eyebrows rose. "It was just an excuse, wasn't it?"

"Ex_cuse_ me?"

"To visit SHIELD," she explained. "You were using it as a cover, so it would look like you were only visiting once a week."

"…What gave you that idea?" Bucky asked slowly. Natasha nodded.

"So I'm right," she said.

"No, you're not," Sam said.

"You weren't at any SHIELD base when you said you were meeting your soulmate?"

"I didn't say that—"

"So it _was_ an excuse!"

Sam gaped, and Bucky looked angry. Steve cleared his throat.

"Unless you lied to me?" he said.

"`Bout what?" Bucky said.

"I asked whether your third – if you had one – was with SHIELD, and you said no."

"What you _asked_ was whether our soulmate works for Phil," Sam corrected.

"Same thing—"

"It isn't," Bucky said. He glanced at Sam, who nodded. "_Phil_ is our soulmate." He stood, catching Sam's hand. "We were spending time with him, not always at SHIELD. But it was safest there, and we couldn't bring him here. More to the point, _he_ knew he wouldn't be welcomed here, except by us. So we never bonded, because… he must've realised that you'd stop us seeing each other."

"Because you did," Sam continued, also standing. "He was right. We kept it secret from you because you'd never accept SHIELD again, and especially not the director. We would've stayed with him, but he convinced us we could do better work as Avengers. Probably also sentimental, so Bucky could spend more time with Steve. He sent us away because of _you_. You're the reason we're not with our soulmate."

"That we feel incomplete," Bucky added.

"So excuse us if we don't participate with your SHIELD-bashing," Sam said. "We'll never get to bond with our third because he's putting everyone else ahead of himself."

"Come on," Bucky murmured, tugging on Sam's hand. "I feel like ice cream."

Sam stared at his soulmate, and then nodded. "Ice cream it is."

After they left, Steve curled his knees up to his chest.

"Fuck," he said.

"I made a big mistake," Natasha said softly. "I let my suspicions get the better of me."

"I should've asked," Steve said. "We should've gone back to SHIELD, at least not cut ties with them completely."

"Good news," Tony said, though he sounded subdued. "Finally got a text from Coulson."

"What does he say?"

"He'll get someone to take measurements and then send them, so if I have spare time, I can maybe work on something for him. 'If I have spare time'." He scrubbed his face. "Hate being made to feel like an asshole."

"Bet it happens to you a lot," Steve said. Tony glared at him scathingly.

"Thanks," he said. "Really."

"Why isn't he coming here?" Pietro asked, cocking his head. Tony shrugged.

"Doesn't think he's welcome, I guess," he said. "And if he thinks it's something I'll work on when I'm not doing anything else, there's no point in setting a time to visit."

"So what will you do?"

"What do you think? I'll design something, tweak it when I get his measurements. Might still have something on record from when he visited here just before…" The battle of New York. When Coulson had died. Steve flinched, and stared out the window.

"We need to call a truce," he said. "I can't, in all good conscience, keep soulmates apart. I'm not gonna be that guy."

* * *

It was a hell of a shock when the Avengers descended on the ship, especially with Steve Rogers and Tony Stark leading them.

"Take me to your labs," Stark said, latching on to Phil's left elbow.

"What—"

"Like hell," Sam said, pulling Stark off Phil. "It's been weeks, and he's our soulmate."

Stark rolled his eyes and huffed. "_Fine_. But I want measurements first. _Then_ you can get your bonding on while I get started. You told me you had some bio-science expert around? The one who isn't missing?"

"Uh… yeah." Phil blinked. "Still in medical. Hunter's probably with her."

"Right. Measurements first. I've got a thing…" He held up a fancy wand, waved it over Phil's right arm, then the left one. "I'll talk designs with her first. Go have fun." He waved Phil off on the way past. "You're welcome."

"We'll talk later," the captain said. "I'm sorry… we're all real sorry about turning you away. We didn't know… but it shouldn't've made any difference. We'll make it up to you. But first, go with Bucky and Sam. They've missed you like crazy."

Phil could only nod, and let himself be led back to his office by his soulmates.

* * *

They still hadn't bonded by the time Tony and Bobbi finished knocking up an arm. Simmons had been retrieved, partly thanks to Thor when he returned to Midgard, and Fitz was spending a lot of time at her bedside. Bobbi still wanted to leave the spy game, or at least take a sabbatical. Instead of going on leave like May, she went to work for Tony.

The best part of having a prosthesis wasn't the additional strength or gadgets, but being able to hold both his soulmates' hands at the same time.

"All you need is for someone to hold you from behind and you'll be surrounded by love," Bucky said, amused as always when Phil grabbed his hand. The one time they'd touched their metal hands together, there'd been unpleasant static and sparks, so they didn't try again after that.

"You really think I need someone else?" Phil asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Maybe we should adopt something," Sam said. "A service dog, maybe? We got enough love between us."

They discussed it and then slept on the matter, entangled in Sam and Bucky's bed in the tower. Phil's crew were staying while Bobbi settled in, and while Phil's bunk was enlarged for sleepovers, though it was possible they'd set up a new base in New York, close enough for Sam to get to work easily, and to the tower in general, in case of calls to assemble. The Saturday morning they woke, it was to each of them feeling an itch… a new soulmark.

"_Four_ of us?" Bucky said, blinking rapidly. "Isn't that rare?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "I guess we must all really need each other."

Phil frowned. "What does yours say?" His was 'Well, hello there.' Helpful.

"Mine's 'Let me guess why you're here'," Sam said.

"Ha!" Bucky grinned. "I've got the most useful."

"Oh, really?"

"It says 'I'm Doctor Winslow, veterinarian. You are?'"

"…You're kidding," Phil said. Bucky showed him, and Phil realised _exactly_ why he knew that writing. "Remember how we talked about getting a dog?"

"We'd better find every Winslow who's a vet," Bucky said, already reaching for his phone. Phil shook his head.

"I know who it is," he said. "Though how I'm gonna explain to Skye that I lied about altering her father's memory, I have no idea."

* * *

**I was barracking for Cal long before Jiaying was revealed as the baddie. Guess I must be a soft touch or something. But I was right to see him as a goodie at heart!**

**Anyway, I know a lot of people weren't happy with Cal's mind apparently being altered, so this is a fix-it. And Simmons coming back due to handwavey Asgardian tech. Erm… yeah. :D**

**Please review! I hope Natasha wasn't too unreasonable in this; the same with Fitz.**


	102. Impossible (Jemma x Rhodey x Tony)

"Impossible"

It all started, Jemma supposed, when she was undercover. After Whitehall made it clear that he wished to weaponise the Obelisk, Jemma knew she had to contact a real alien. She had no idea how to get in touch with Lady Sif, and Thor was in London as far as she knew. She didn't have his contact information, and he had no reason to trust her. If Director Coulson had _told_ the Avengers that he was alive, that would be one thing; as it was, Jemma was grateful that Maria Hill worked for Stark Industries. She could vouch for Jemma, get in touch with Thor, ask for his assistance, or at least further information.

There was no way they could let HYDRA to weaponise the effects of the Obelisk. She wasn't sure why not everyone at the navy massacre died, but she was willing to bet there were… not-good reasons behind it.

"This is Hill," she heard. Jemma spoke through her teeth to minimise the possibility of her lips being read if she was watched.

"Hello," she said. "This is Jemma Simmons."

"…Agent Simmons? Is there any reason you're calling me?"

"Yes. It's… our common enemy. I need advice on alien objects."

"Okay, I'm trying to work out what you're saying. Are you being watched?"

"I. Don't. Know."

"Was that an 'I don't know'?"

"_Yes_."

"Let me run this through… alright. Alien objects. Got it. What do you want me to do?"

"I'm… undercover."

"Should I just ask Coulson?"

Jemma covered her mouth, pretending to cough.

"Ask him about the Obelisk!" she hissed. "HYDRA wants to use it to commit mass murder. I don't know how long I can keep working there, dragging my heels, when I'm supposed to stay for as long as—"

"Alright, I'll do what I can," Hill said. "Is there any way to contact you?"

She straightened, and wiped her hand on her trouser leg. "On this number, not during work hours unless it's urgent."

"Sit tight, Simmons. We'll work something out."

Her eyes closed in relief. "Thank you."

* * *

They knew she was a mole. Damn it.

Jemma had barely run out into the hallway when she heard what sounded like _robots_ approaching. Oh God; what was HYDRA doing with robotic guards? The head of security was marching towards her on one side. On the other side…

"Oh," she murmured to herself. Her phone rang, and as Iron Man raised his arms she ducked, and answered the call. "Hello?"

"Sent in the big guns," Hill said. "Coulson was being unreasonable. Said something about having the situation under control. But after it turned out that JARVIS transmitted our conversation to Stark…"

"Ah. I didn't think of that."

"You've never been to the tower," Hill said. "Stark's seen your picture. Is he there?"

"Right in front of me. Shooting at the others."

"Run towards him when he gives you the signal."

"What sign—"

Iron Man lowered his arms. Jemma glanced over her shoulders and saw that the wall beside the security team was littered with holes, and that they'd hit the deck. She looked back to Iron Man, who jerked his head. She nodded, sprinted that way, and pelted around the corner past him. There was… my God, there was Captain America.

"This way, Agent Simmons!" he said, grabbing her arm. He took her to the roof, and into a Quinjet, or something like it. She saw War Machine in the distance, Thor flying around – hopefully collecting the Obelisk, or destroying it – but she barely had time to think before she was being strapped into a seat.

"T-thank you," she said.

"I've been assigned guard duty to you," he said. "Natasha's getting information, Clint's been distracting the enemy, and—"

"Here now," Hawkeye said as he leapt into the Quinjet beside them. "To pilot us as soon as Nat gets back."

"Oh." Jemma looked around. "Uh—"

"Everyone else can fly," Captain America said. "You just sit tight, okay? We're taking you back to the tower. You'll see your friends in no time."

"Some of us are going our separate ways again straight after this," Hawkeye said, settling into the pilot's seat. "But we couldn't pass up the chance to take a shot at HYDRA."

"No, indeed," she said. "Uh, thank you for rescuing me?"

"That was Tony," the captain said, waving it off. "But you're welcome."

Jemma smiled, and settled back. The Black Widow arrived soon after, striding to the co-pilot's seat as the door closed behind them. It took a surprisingly short amount of time to reach Stark Tower. She shouldn't have been so shocked, considering who she was travelling with, and who had most likely designed the `jet, or at least modified it.

"You did a good job," Captain America said. Jemma perked up.

"Oh. Well, thank you. I mean, I did my best… I've always been told that I'm a terrible liar, so I have no idea how I made it this far. But I couldn't, in all good conscience, help HYDRA achieve their terrible ends, because I'm _not_ HYDRA, and their work needs to be destroyed… and if I'd been k-killed before I could…" She lowered her head. "I needed to get as much information from HYDRA as possible. But I didn't have the opportunity to bring my hard-drive, so it's all lost."

"Not quite," the Black Widow said. "Something you want to tell us?"

"…About what?"

"About Phil Coulson being alive?"

"Uh…" She cleared her throat. "He was dead for nearly a week? How did you know?"

"Barbara Morse was undercover at HYDRA, as the head of security. She's got the hard-drive. You told her to take it, so she did."

Jemma blinked. "Oh. That's good! Isn't it?"

"But she's taking it to Coulson."

"We want to see him anyway, don't we?" Hawkeye said. "…That would be a yes, Natasha. We want to see him."

"I need to return to SHIELD anyway," Jemma said, gripping the edge of her seat as they landed at Stark Tower.

"SHIELD?" the captain said sharply.

"…Yes," she said in a small voice, giving him her best Bambi eyes. He sighed, so she must have succeeded.

"Time to go in," Hawkeye said. Jemma unbuckled, and followed the others out of the plane. All the flying Avengers and sidekicks landed around them, and she skittered back, startled and intimidated. War Machine was the closest, and Jemma's heart was still pounding with adrenaline when the face-plate retracted and she saw James Rhodes's face for the first time. He grinned as he lifted her hand to his lips.

"So chivalry just relocated to America," she said, feeling giddy. His metal-covered hand tightened and his smile froze. Instead of replying, he looked over his shoulder.

"Tony, get over here!" he hollered. As Iron Man approached, Jemma swallowed. Her legs nearly went from under her when Colonel Rhodes finally _did_ speak to her. "Thanks to you, ma'am. More specifically, those words."

"Oh," she said weakly. "You… oh my. Really? But… but you're a superhero! You're a colonel and a superhero a-and—"

"What's up, honeybear?" Iron Man looked her over. "Well, aren't you adorable?"

Buoyed by the colonel squeezing her hand, Jemma licked her lips, flattered when Tony Stark's eyes followed the movement with obvious interest.

"Was that a rhetorical question?" she asked. His smile widened into a wicked grin.

"This is my favourite rescue ever," he said. "Dr. Simmons, isn't it?"

"Y-yes."

"Come with us. Gotta compare handwriting to make sure."

She understood. They all had trust issues, according to Director Coulson, and being two influential men – with Tony Stark a billionaire to boot – they had every reason to make sure it was legitimate. Handwriting was one way, and no doubt they had advanced technology, the likes of which Fitz… no. Still too early to think about… that. The Black Widow insisted on chaperoning them. Jemma smiled at her gratefully, although she remained nervous in the woman's presence. Their collective presence, really, for all that some of them tried to lighten the mood.

"This is our stop," Iron Man said, leading the way out of the lift. War Machine nudged Jemma from behind, and Agent Romanov walked beside her.

"You keep your hands off her until you have permission," she said. Jemma's eyes grew.

"If they need to—"

"You're a bio-scientist. You understand perfectly well that touch isn't necessary when visual confirmation can be obtained."

"They'll still want to check, and so do I," she said. "But thank you for being here."

While the men shucked their armour, Jemma removed her upper outer garments, covered only with a sensible bra. Which reminded her; she would have to return to her apartment, assuming it was intact, and retrieve whatever was left.

"Mind if I get a closer look?" Colonel Rhodes asked, gesturing at Jemma's stomach.

"No, of course not," she said, twiddling her thumbs unconsciously as he knelt before her, hands hovering near her hips but not touching. She tried not to move her stomach as she breathed heavily, nervously. Tony Stark walked behind her, and she wasn't sure whether he was bending over or kneeling down, but she felt his gaze.

"My writing," he said, and Jemma nearly slumped in relief. "Rhodey?"

"Yeah," the colonel replied. "Mine, too."

"Mind if we see samples of your writing first?"

She nodded. "Pen and paper?"

They were obtained, and she dutifully wrote what her possible soulmates dictated. While they studied her handwriting, she pulled on her blouse, hopeful but wary, and couldn't even summon a smile for Agent Romanov, who was typing on her phone.

"Your friends from SHIELD will be here soon," she said. "Coulson, Agent May, Agent Skye, and Agent Triplett."

"Not Fitz?" Jemma asked. The woman shook her head.

"Friend?"

"My best friend through most of our academy training," she replied. "He sustained brain damage, and… I found it difficult to cope. He didn't want to see me, and he'd confessed to having feelings for me even though we're _not_ soulmates, and I see him more as a brother, and… and Director Coulson needed me undercover, so I went, because it was easier…" She wiped away an embarrassing tear, and pulled herself together. "I can understand why he wouldn't want to see me."

"We can't let you go back."

She turned, frowning at Iron Man. Both men looked serious. Her heart sank.

"It isn't my handwriting on your… on you?" she asked, a bit too cowed to say 'bodies'.

"It _is_," he said. "Which is why we don't want to send you back to SHIELD."

"Is it really any safer here?" she said, arching an eyebrow. The colonel snorted.

"No," he said. "But we…" He cleared his throat. "Want you. If you're not here…"

She brightened. "You want _me_?"

"You're our soulmate, doc."

"Jemma. You should… being my soulmates, you should call me Jemma."

"I want to be there when you tell Coulson who your soulmates are," Agent Romanov said. "It's something I have to see."

"Not if it gives him a heart attack," Jemma muttered.

* * *

It didn't. Give Coulson a heart attack, that is. His eyes widened considerably, however, and Jemma worried about him until he loosened his tie and coughed.

"Okay," he said. "Unexpected development. Is that why we're here?"

"You know damn well why you're here," Clint said.

(Yes. Jemma was now on first-name terms with the Avengers and their friends.)

"Ah…" Coulson's lips twisted into a rueful smile. "I was going to tell you when the time was right—"

"And when was that supposed to be?"

"Barton—"

"Don't you '_Barton_' me, Coulson!"

While they argued, Rhodey and Tony led Jemma to the couch and seated her between them. Skye and Trip sat opposite, while May was Coulson's bodyguard, in case Clint and Natasha were especially peeved that he'd kept his resurrection secret from them.

"So you're gonna stay here," Skye said, looking around. "I mean, it's a nice place and all, but we're your team."

"I know, and I'd love to return with you," Jemma said. "But HYDRA will be looking for me, and I don't want to draw attention to SHIELD. Our forces are weak enough. I don't want to be any more of a burden. And… I'm sure Fitz is coping much better without me around." It hurt to say it, but she was sure it was true.

"Well, he's better now," Trip said. "Not great; his hands still shake, he still has… trouble with words. But Mack's helping him. They've become besties." Jemma winced, and he backtracked. "Of course, _you'll_ always be besties with Fitz, but—"

"No, I understand. He's moved on, and it's time I did the same."

"Or SHIELD could just move here," Tony said. "Somewhere nearby, maybe? You won't want to put up with me all the time, and Rhodey's still got his work, and I've got mine. But we don't want to see you just once a week, or whenever we can get time."

"And we'd both feel better if we knew you were safe," Rhodey added. "Sa_fer_, that is."

She huddled back against their warm arms, smiling to herself. "I'm going to worry like mad whenever the two of you do anything dangerous, you realise."

"You're gonna be doing an awful lot of worrying, Jemma," Rhodey said, stroking her knee. She met his eyes.

"I know," she said. "It's become par for the course since… long before SHIELD fell."

"We'll be extra careful now that we've got you to come home to," Tony said. "I'll try to limit my self-destructive behaviour."

"And I'll take as much leave as I can," Rhodey said.

"I don't think DC's going anytime soon," Skye remarked. Jemma glanced over the back of the couch and saw him standing there, his arms crossed and his shoulders hunched as he glared at Natasha and Clint.

"I suspect not," Jemma said, and she turned back. "Well. Sandwiches, anyone?"

"Our super soldier and alien-god-whatever-Thor-is will be so glad to have you around," Tony said.

* * *

**Sorry I haven't updated until now. My mother had surgery today, and she's coming home tomorrow, so I've been distracting myself with fan fiction since I finished work. Unfortunately, more the reading fan fiction while movies are playing in the background than the writing fan fiction. Oops.**

**Please review! Ship requested by ozhawk.**


	103. Multiples of Fun (Brock x Deadpool)

"Multiples of Fun"

It took something dramatic to change a soulmark. Originally, they remained the same, but as society evolved, as people were able to travel further and the scope for soulmateship grew, as more wars started and ended, as more methods of killing were created… Well, it was possible for a major turning point in someone's life to change what the initial words from their soulmate would be.

But Brock was pretty damn sure no one's mark changed as often as his. It wasn't always linked to his work, which was dangerous and stress-inducing, and sometimes he felt sorry for his soulmate if this is what they were putting up with. Yet… a change was more commonly reported than a mark _disappearing_ for a few hours, sometimes longer, before reappearing in the exact same writing.

What the hell was with his soulmate? Were they terminally ill? Did they just go into intense, death-like comas, or… or were they enhanced? He knew about strangeness; he worked for SHIELD, for God's sake. But someone who could die for more than a few minutes? At least twenty times that he'd counted, and there might've been times while he slept, or was in hospital.

When he joined HYDRA, his mark changed. Brock ignored what it said, and the many times after that. When he betrayed SHIELD the day of Project Insight, betrayed Captain America, he was sure he felt his soulmark change again.

It was some months later that he checked the words, just to see what it said. He tried not to think about what having the words on his right butt cheek indicated. At least he wasn't injured there when that Helicarrier ran him down. The serum, or whatever the hell they used on him, didn't clear up all the scars. He didn't care about that, and hoped his soulmate wouldn't, either.

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall," he muttered, his eyes quickly reversing the letters to read them: 'Well, fuck me, you're gorgeous. Let's go kill more bad guys! You with me? I'm gonna climb you like a tree later. Looks like you could totally hold me up against a wall, actually. Wanna test that theory?'

It was usually like that, some large block of writing that made Brock suspect his soulmate was not only a chatterbox, but also had endless lung capacity. Half the time the words had dark connotations, but this time… this time he was supposedly fighting the baddies.

"Well, fuck," he said. And apparently he was going to speak first. Better come up with something distinctive to say, then. Just 'Hello' wasn't gonna cut it.

Looked like he'd have to reform himself if he had any hope of meeting his soulmate after all these years. _Decades_ of waiting. Brock clenched his fists and checked himself over. Seemed like his soulmate didn't scare easy, point in their favour, whoever it was.

* * *

Wade stretched his muscles as he approached the window. Since he bugged Tony Stark into letting him stay at the tower for awhile, just until the guys trying to kill Wade… you know… stopped trying to kill him, he'd been enjoying living the high life. Literally, considering how many storeys up he was. Kind of awe-inspiring. Besides, it was fun playing pranks on Barton, especially if he had Captain America's help, because there was a prank war going on, and while Barton and Banner made a formidable team, Wade and Steve held their own. He was hoping Romanov would join in, or form her own one-woman team, give them a real challenge.

New York City at night was a blaze of pinpricks of light. Wade would happily frequent the bars with some of his team-mates (not that the Avengers had included him in their big battles yet, but there hadn't been any since Wade came along), but since Stark had his own epic collection of booze and an endless supply of movies at his disposal, not to mention _the_ best popcorn-making machine, there were even better reasons to stay in.

He… sort of hoped the death threats continued indefinitely. It was nice to have the company, even though the Avengers sometimes found his chatter annoying. Everyone did, so it's not like they were different in that respect.

And hey, it could be useful. The first time he met Pepper Potts, she'd come looking for Stark, who was in his workshop as usual, being all productive and skipping social interaction. Wade had chattered to her for a couple of minutes before Steve got there and clapped a hand over Wade's mouth. She stared at him for ten seconds.

"Come with me," she said, and she turned on her heel. He followed her to the elevator obediently, and once they got to the workshop level, JARVIS let them inside, where AC/DC was playing loudly. Pepper pointed at Stark, bent over some project or other, and said, "Talk his ears off until he quits work for the morning and comes to a meeting."

It worked. Wade perched on the bench beside Stark, telling him all about this crazy dream he'd had, which was actually true, in his defence. Three minutes in, Stark gave him a desperate look, noticed Pepper, and ran to her.

"Pepper! Just the CEO I wanted to see. Sorry, Deadpool, talk to you later. Or, you know, be talked to by you later. But duty calls."

Stark hurried into the elevator. Pepper smiled at Wade and gave him a discreet thumbs-up. Which not only gained him her approval, but JARVIS's as well. So yay for the AI being on his side! Yay, yay, yay…

After that, people started to use him as a way to annoy other people into doing whatever they should've been doing. If Darcy wasn't there, and her scientists needed to be watered, fed, and given sunlight, she'd call Wade and get him to shepherd them out, with threats from her to make him baby-sit again if they didn't take care of themselves. (It lasted for about a week before he had to be science-wrangler again, which was fun, and made him feel useful. And Darcy was awesome, so.)

At nights he would check the back of his lower leg, see whether his words had changed again. They did it a lot. Not as often as he died, and he sometimes wondered what his soulmate thought of all their changes. But it meant… a hell of a lot that Wade had a soulmate, someone out there who wouldn't find him irritating. Or would, but wouldn't hate him for it, or use him for his motor mouth. It was no fun being the Merc with a Mouth if his soulmate couldn't stand him because of it. Whether his soulmate was indecisive, bipolar or schizophrenic, or died as often as Wade (or had the most epic _petite morts_ ever on a regular basis… mmm), he didn't care, as long as they wanted him.

'You're amazing.'

…That was it? His newest soulmark. They'd always been pretty short, at least not 'Hey' or 'Hi' or 'Yo', so he made up for it by talking incessantly if someone spoke to him, or even before they spoke, in case he drove the words right out of their head. Hadn't worked so far… obviously. But 'You're amazing' as his words? Would he _finally_ find his soulmate, or would there be another change before that could happen?

Wade sighed.

"AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!"

He nearly jumped out of his skin when JARVIS made the announcement.

"O…kay," Wade said, blinking rapidly. "Good to know. Uh, do they need me?"

"Of course, sir. Why else would I broadcast the message to your quarters?"

"My… my quarters?" He looked around. "Thought this was just a guestroom."

"Until you leave, or move in permanently, they are to be referred to as your quarters."

"…So! Where's the battle, JARVIS? I can get there before the others, just say the word, I've got my teleporter, won't take long—"

JARVIS displayed a map, with live footage of the latest threat to New York City. (And really, if they wanted to be destructive, shouldn't they go somewhere there wasn't a superhero hub? If these were pissing contests… well, the bad guys kept losing, so they should've learnt their lesson. But whatever. More fun for Wade!)

He jumped into his costume, grabbed his Hermione bag, and zipped to the location. He was the only one at the fray so far, and decided to leave rescuing citizens to the more photogenic members of the team. Heck, people would probably think he was a baddie, never having seen him before. Besides, black and red weren't exactly the most comforting colours to a credulous public. Now, red and gold, or red, white, and blue…

Speaking of red. By the time the Avengers got there, Wade had dispatched about, uh, a quarter of the clone-thingies? Each katana dripped with blood, reminding him of why he chose red as the prominent colour for his uniform, and he ran to Steve for instructions.

"What d'you want me to do next, captain?" he asked. "I'm ready, not tired yet, I could do this all day. Well, except for breaks for snacks, because chimichangas—"

"Problem," Steve said, looking over Wade's shoulder. "That guy over there? With the shirt with two crossed bones? He's HYDRA, one of the men who betrayed me when SHIELD fell. Could you…?"

"Deal with him? Absolutely! Be back soon, Cap!"

Wade sped off, chopping off a few heads right and left, until he reached the crossed bones guy. And… he realised the man was actually _protecting_ citizens. His eyes were ever-moving, sometimes flitting over Wade and the Avengers, and every so often he shot the closest threat. Wade realised he was just staring when the guy shot a clone to his left, which meant it was time to snap back into action. He had an odd compulsion to show off, and swiftly took out ten more clones before reaching the crowd.

"You're amazing," crossed bones guy said, raising an eyebrow. Wade skidded to a halt, gaping, trying to find words, and _whoa_, had it ever been this hard before?

"Well, fuck me, you're gorgeous," he settled on, even though he didn't usually swear like that, and especially not in front of children. But this was potentially an important moment in his life; allowances had to be made, okay? "Let's go kill more bad guys! You with me? I'm gonna climb you like a tree later. Looks like you could totally hold me up against a wall, actually." Yep. Totally worth ogling. "Wanna test that theory?"

"…You're my soulmate?"

"It _is _you? Hells yeah, girlfriend! I think these folks will still be safe if we're over here, don't you? Can't get much done from back here."

"You were sent to deal with me, weren't you?"

"…Yeah, but you're my _soulmate_. I'm not lettin' anyone hurt you, babe."

He shook his head. "Not heading out there until I know Rogers won't kill me on sight."

"Okay," Wade said. "I'll be back to give you the all clear when we're done." He wagged his eyebrows as he looked Brock over. "And you can give _me_ the all clear later."

Brock blushed, which was awesome.

* * *

Wade waded (ha!) through the bodies to Steve, and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Good work, Deadpool," the captain said, still concentrating on his StarkPad. "If you join us on a regular basis, you should have a less… threatening pseudonym, something to think about."

"That's great, Cap—"

"And did you take out Rumlow?"

"…Who?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "The man I asked you to—"

"Oh! The one with the skeleton shirt?"

"Yes."

"No."

"…No?"

"Turns out he's my soulmate. And he was fighting on our side. Protecting civilians and everything. Obviously I wanna be one of the good guys, and since he's my soulmate… Steve, you've gone kinda pale. I can see that, and I'm looking through black mesh."

"I'm… I'm okay."

"Sure?"

"Brock Rumlow is your soulmate? Shit."

"Cute, actually. And that's his name? Awesome name. Anyway! He said he wasn't coming out until he knew you weren't gonna kill him on sight. His words. Please, please, please? Pretty please, Steve? Can I keep my soulmate? Can I, can I?"

Steve rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I need to talk with him."

"Not a séance kind of talk?"

"No."

"So he's safe to come here?"

"Yes, Deadpool. He's safe."

Wade ran off, much more cheerfully this time, and ran smack bang into his soulmate, who was accepting thanks from one of the women he'd been protecting.

"You're welcome," Brock said, and Wade managed to pull him aside. "Verdict?"

"He wants to talk with you, and not post-mortem, so you're safe! You know, for now."

"Encouraging," Brock said, scratching the back of his head. "Okay. I'm coming."

"Hopefully inside me, later. I know where _my_ soulmark is."

Brock cleared his throat, grabbed Wade's wrist, and led him out into the light.

"Ooh… is that a metaphor?"

"Is what a metaphor?"

"Talking to the author, sweetheart, you don't have to participate. Unless your head's been messed with as much as mine has. Did someone mess with your head? Because the number of times my soulmark has changed—"

"As many as mine?"

"Well, I kinda don't stay dead, and people find me annoying so I get killed a lot, but I'm so much fun to write that people keep bringing me back to life."

Brock stared at Wade. "Right. I should probably tell you that—"

"You're HYDRA?"

"_Were_ HYDRA."

"Past tense? Great! Because I hate being experimented on. It isn't all that fun, trust me, I've had so many procedures I make Michael Jackson look like a plastic surgery virgin. Speaking of being a virgin, I _may_ or may not have been saving the home run for you—"

Best plan for getting a kiss. Brock had Wade pressed against a… building, hopefully, and not Iron Man or War Machine, because talk about awkward, and… ooh, _that_ was nice. Very nice. When Brock released him, Wade licked his lips, catching his breath.

"Later," Brock said slowly, "we're revisiting that idea of fucking you against a wall."

"_Fuck_."

"Damn right, babe. Say." He tipped his head. "What's your name?"

* * *

**Oh yeah. That's something you should've mentioned earlier, Wade.**

**But you totally knew it was me. And my name's in the title and everything!**

**Wha… You're seriously hijacking my author's note? Go **_**away**_**, Deadpool!**

**You said—**

**I wasn't talking **_**directly**_** to you, sweetie! Just… No more interrupting author notes.**

…**Still gonna write more of me in future chapters?**

**Yes, because people love you. But go away.**

**Ooh, ooh, ooh! Can I do the thing?**

**What thing…? Fine.**

***Wade clears his throat* Please review, everyone! How's that?**

**Very nice, Wade. Now go away.**


	104. The Hacker (Pepper x Skye x Tony)

**Note: spoilers for finale of 'AoS' season two. There weren't supposed to be, but I forgot that, so you've got references to what happened at the end of the episode.**

"The Hacker"

"Is there any reason you're hacking my computer?"

Skye froze, and it wasn't from the ice in the woman's voice. She wasn't entirely sure, but she was pretty confident that this was _the_ Pepper Potts she was speaking to. And saying Skye's soulmark words, no less. As she grappled for a reply, there was a sigh on the other end, a few keys being tapped, and Skye gulped as Coulson rounded the corner, frowning when he saw on her laptop and probably looking guilty as all hell.

"What have you done?" he said.

"W-what makes you think I've done anything?" she asked, half-listening to the conversation taking place at the other end of the line.

"For all your SHIELD training, sometimes you're as bad at lying as Simmons is," he replied. Skye slumped.

"I was making sure my skills hadn't gotten rusty," she said. "So I…"

"You…?"

"Kind of… hacked Stark Industries?"

Coulson's shoulders stiffened. "I see."

"DC—"

"Apologise to whoever's upset with you, assure them it'll never happen again, and remove _any_ trace that you were there in the first place."

"It's Pepper Potts. I think."

He blanched. "Can she hear me?"

"She's talking to someone."

"…Okay. Beg a _lot_ when she starts talking to you again."

"Roger that," Skye muttered as Coulson walked off. She sighed, and soon heard another semi-familiar voice on the phone.

"How the hell did you do that?" (possibly) Tony Freaking Stark said.

"It's… a skill of mine," Skye said. She'd heard that Stark and Potts were soulmates, but just because they'd both said her words, it was still unlikely that Skye was their—

"Pepper, didn't you think it was _slightly_ important to tell me that—" He halted abruptly, and Skye waited. "Has she said anything to you?"

No. Couldn't be.

_What_?

"…Are you our soulmate?" Pepper Oh-My-God Potts said.

"Maybe?" Skye said. Then she realised what a crappy soulmark that would be, and hurried to continue. "I don't know. I wasn't expecting _any_ of this when I woke up this morning. I mean, what the hell?" She clapped a hand over her mouth and screwed her eyes shut. Too much. Pretty damn specific, but what if those _were_ the words? What if Potts and Stark didn't believe her? What if they wanted to meet, and the whole Inhuman and quaking powers and Coulson-being-alive thing came out? Shit.

"I think…" Stark cleared his throat. "We should meet. What's your name, kid?"

"…Skye?"

"You're gonna have to give us more than that, honey."

"There isn't any more."

"Why not?" Potts said.

"Grew up in an orphanage, then the system, then picked my own name."

"…Oh."

"My history is complicated, pretty crappy, and I became an ace hacker because of my soulmarks. Wanted to make sure I could find someone who'd actually want to keep me around, instead of just passing me on as pretty much everyone else has…" She wound down, taking deep breaths, just like everyone had taught her. "I don't know whether I can meet—"

"Of course you can," Stark interrupted. "We'll fly anywhere, or fly _you_ anywhere."

"It's not that. It's… There's a crisis here at the moment."

"I can get my best friend Rhodey to clear the air-space for you. Or for us. Say, can you send pictures of your soulmarks?"

Skye blinked. "As in one of my friends has gone missing."

"What have you tried to do to find… him? Her?"

"Her, and there's not much we can do." Except consult Thor, and maybe it was time for Coulson to reveal himself to the Avengers, but Skye wasn't going to push him, especially not while he was still recovering. It was up to him. "A weird rock kind of swallowed her up. We don't know whether she's still there, or somewhere else, if she's even _alive_—"

"We can help," Potts said. "Or we know people who can."

Skye wiped away the tears that came so easily when thinking about Simmons. "Thanks, but I have to stay here for the time being."

"Are you self-employed, or is there someone we can talk to about—"

"I'll call you later," Skye said, ending the conversation. She threw every firewall into place, powered down her laptop, and hoped her signal scrambler kept them from tracing her. Since it was Stark Industries, not Avengers Tower, she was probably safe from the AI which ran the building. Which meant that SHIELD was safe. For now.

She had to talk to Coulson.

* * *

The director's first reaction, when Skye told him that Pepper Potts and Tony Stark were probably her soulmates, was to reach into his bar fridge, get out an ice pack, and slap it on his head as he rested back in his computer chair. Skye winced.

"It's not that bad… is it?" she asked.

"Pepper's wonderful," he replied. "Stark's a headache. Just hearing about him…"

"That's not why you've got a headache, right? I mean, it's the whole potential reveal that's got you worried. Isn't it? DC?"

He side-eyed her with a frown. "You're still capable of lying, but your soulmates will be able to tell after you've bonded with them."

"_If_ I bond with them," she said.

"Oh, once you meet Pepper Potts you _will_ want to bond with her. And you're a hacker. Plus there was that fangirl thing outside Stark Tower that you keep denying, even though we have… we _had_… evidence." Skye was pretty smug about deleting said evidence, although she'd never be able to live that down. Hell, Stark probably had the security footage somewhere, not that he'd be able to pick her out of a crowd.

"I've seen pictures," Skye said. "I'm not blind. But there might not be any chemistry between us, so don't jump your guns there, DC."

He sighed. "When did you get your marks?"

"A few years ago. Why?"

"During the battle of New York?"

"Yeah." He smiled half-heartedly, and Skye quickly put things together. "That's when you died, wasn't it?"

"I don't think they realised we were soulmates. If they did, they never said anything to me, which made it pretty clear. I went on lunch dates with Pepper, but just as friends. There was never any mention of… And Stark clearly didn't like me. There was never even a chance for it to be platonic."

"…I can't do this."

"You can. If you _want _to. No one's going to force you into anything, or coerce you. Be as suspicious as usual. You should meet them—"

"But Simmons—"

"We'll do everything we can for her," Coulson said, holding up a hand to stop her. "The distraction will do you good, and maybe you can sound Thor out about the Kree rock while you're there. And hope he doesn't send for Lady Sif." His mouth twisted in disapproval. "She might reveal that I'm alive, and I'd prefer to tell them myself."

"When?" Skye asked. "When are you planning to tell them?"

He arched an eyebrow. "When the time is right, and preferably in the most dramatic way possible. The Avengers don't hold the concession on spectacular entrances."

"The difference between villains and supervillains is style."

"If I become a villain, I hope you'll notice in time," he said dryly.

* * *

"At least our new soulmate isn't a toddler," Pepper pointed out as Tony paced.

"Yeah, but I can't find anything on her! Any 'Skye' just… doesn't fit," he said. "Why aren't there forums for matching soulmark writing?"

"There are plenty of those," she said. "You just don't trust them."

His eyes moved even more rapidly than his hands and feet. "Stark Industries needs to do something about this. Create a device, an app, a… a formula, and goddamnit, where's Bruce when you need him?"

"Escaping the trouble you two got into after Ultron," she muttered. Tony glared at her.

"And where were you?" he said.

"Working! Doing my damn job, Tony, which _you_ should've been doing."

"I don't want people to die!" he said, waving his arms. "I was just trying to protect my friends! I… I saw them all dying." He swallowed. "Saw Steve die, accusing me of not doing everything I could to…" He lowered his head, steps slowing to a halt. "Ever since I found out what Obie was doing with my weapons, everything I've done, I've been doing to save people, Pep."

"Not _everything_," she said. "Some of it's pure ego-trip. But you _have_ saved people, and I know you'll keep trying."

He fidgeted, and glanced at her. "She said she'd call."

"Which could mean anytime."

"How are we supposed to wait?"

"Well." Pepper looked him up and down. "I can think of a few things to pass the time."

Tony perked up.

* * *

Skye managed to arrange some time with her possible soulmates – and really, how could they _not_ be, when they both said her words? – but she visited the tank first, even though she'd technically been banned from going anywhere near it. Lincoln was keeping well away, like a sensible Inhuman. Skye wished she could do the same thing, but it was a form of punishment, seeing how she'd failed Simmons just by having the wrong parents, by having the powers her friend hated so much.

"I'll see you later," Skye said. "I'm sorry, Simmons. We'll find a way out. I'll ask Thor about this, see if he can tell me anything. If he can't…" She shrugged. "We'll move onto the next plan. But it'd be awesome if you could find your way out of there soon. I think I've found my soulmates, and I wanna show you off. So… bye for now."

The butterflies in her stomach just _wouldn't_ settle. They fluttered as May drove her to the meeting point, a clearing a couple of miles away from the base. The Avengers' Quinjet was going to pick her up, assuming it met with May's approval. They were down too many agents to send someone with Skye. She'd been sworn to as much secrecy as possible regarding Coulson's resurrection, but they all knew there was only so much she could keep from her soulmates. Besides, the longer Coulson put it off, the worse it was going to be when everything was revealed.

Skye nearly leapt out of her skin when Iron Man landed in front of the car. May had her gun out, ready to shoot, before he even touched the ground. Both women were out of the car in seconds, aiming at him; it could've been anyone inside, after all.

"One of you my other soulmate?" Okay, that sounded like his voice, but it was no guarantee. Not even when a jet landed behind him. There was an electronic sigh, then the faceplate slid away to reveal what _definitely_ looked like Tony Stark. Pepper Potts walked down the ramp of the jet and over to them, glaring at Iron Man.

"You freaked them out," she said. "That's the first impression you wanted to make?"

"You should probably be more worried about the impression you want to make on May, seeing as she's my SO," Skye said, tilting her head in May's direction. "She's gotta vet all of you – _and_ the plane – before I'm allowed out of her sight."

"Sounds oppressive," Stark said, frowning from one to the other.

"Skye's safety should come before your ego, don't you think?" May asked, not relaxing one inch. Stark opened and close his mouth, before looking at Potts helplessly.

"That would be a 'yes'," she said dryly. "Skye. A pleasure to meet you at last." She held out her hand, and Skye took it, a subtle tingle beneath her skin. Something she'd never felt with anyone else. This was definitely her soulmate, which meant that it must've been Pepper Potts. That feeling could never be recreated or faked in any way.

"You too," Skye said. Wow. Eloquent. "I mean, it's an honour. And I'm happy as well, because I was… this is… it's unexpected. And I didn't think I'd really find my soulmates because I've done a lot of things I haven't—"

"Nothing as bad as what I've done," Stark said. He still looked wary, but his suit peeled off, leaving him in the kind of outfit Coulson would envy, including… an Iron Man tie, which Potts clearly noticed as well, because she rolled her eyes.

"Everyone wants to meet you," she said. "Will you come back to the tower with us?"

"Come with us _anywhere_?" Stark said, wiggling his eyebrows with a cheeky smirk. Skye blushed, and May cleared her throat pointedly.

"We're going to look the plane over, and _then_ she can go with you, if she wants to," she said. "I'm not letting anything happen to her that she doesn't want."

"Do you really think we'd hurt our soulmate intentionally?" he asked indignantly.

"Wouldn't be the first time someone we trusted let us down," Skye muttered, finally letting go of Pepper's hand. "I'm sure it's okay. I could feel it, the… the connection."

May's eyes narrowed. "I said I'd take care of you."

"And you have. Thank you. I'll let you know when I'm ready to come back."

"Call or send a message as _soon_ as you arrive," May said. She touched Skye's shoulder, then returned to the car. Skye watched her SO drive off, and Stark nudged her until she shook his hand as well. The skin-deep tickle was present, and she realised it was an incredibly useful way to make sure they were who they said.

"This way," Stark said, pulling her along. Potts took her other hand, and Skye wondered if they thought they'd become her new family. Because they weren't. She had one, her SHIELD family, and she was only going with her soulmates to get Thor's help. These two had each other, had been together for years before she met them, first platonically and then romantically. Skye couldn't see herself just _slotting_ into that dynamic somewhere. She'd tell Thor about the problem back at base, then say 'Thanks, but no thanks' to whatever Potts and Stark suggested, and then get the hell out of there. They were better off without her.

She should've felt guilty, but the footage of Simmons being sucked into the rock stayed with her, haunted her dreams, the echo of her scream waking Skye every morning. That was her first priority, not her soulmates.

"Thinking deep thoughts?"

"Hmm?" She met Potts's eyes as they all strapped into the seats.

"You looked worried."

"Oh. Just… about my friend. The one who's missing. It gives me nightmares."

"How did you come across alien tech?" Stark asked her.

"Not… not so much tech. More a really big rock which turns into liquid, then back into rock form. It's stayed solid ever since it swallowed h-her up." She clenched her fists, feeling out the vibrations of her clothing to keep herself calm. "We have no idea what it is. We think it might be Kree, but…" She shrugged helplessly.

"Kree?" Potts said.

"Not the first time we've run into Kree-related problems, so it's a pretty safe bet."

"And who's 'we'?" Hawkeye asked from the front seat. At least Skye was pretty sure it was Clint Barton, from what she could see. "Y'know, out of curiosity."

"…The team I'm part of."

"Sounds shady."

"And of course the Avengers are squeaky clean," Skye said unthinkingly. She felt guilty when Stark flinched. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I only meant… we all have secrets, and I need to keep some of mine, at least for now. It's no fun if we know everything about each other within an hour of meeting, is it?"

"Except I recognised Melinda May," Hawkeye said. "She worked for SHIELD, which means either you both do, or you work with her mom. If she's no longer stuck on paperwork and back in the field, it'll be some secret organisation where she'd thrive."

Skye coughed. "Classified."

"Goddamnit."

"Tony!"

"Sorry, Pepper." He sighed. "Sorry, Skye."

"Don't I get an apology?" Hawkeye said. "I reprimanded you at the same time, too."

"You say worse than I do, Hawkass. So not apologising."

* * *

**How the hell do I end this? Author can't write at the moment.**

**My laptop was in for repairs the other day, and I've been playing games since, which is why I haven't been as productive. Plus my laptop was really slow after doing a backup today, which pissed me off. I'll try to do more. And I wrote a little Bucky/Phil soulmate AU fic on the Tumblr thing 'Arm in Arm'. Doesn't take long to read, and looks at what might happen if all soulmarks were on left hands and didn't grow back in a different place if the left arm was amputated, unlike in my Bucky/Darcy chapter, where his soulmark ended up on his right arm.**

**Uh, yeah. :D Please review! Ship requested by kogouma, I forgot to mention.**


	105. Author Is Cruel (Loki x Phil)

**Note: Oh, honeybuns, it's all there in the chapter title. It does get better, but you've gotta wade through the angst first. This wasn't what I originally had planned for this pairing, but I thought of it and decided yes, I could be a bitch for once. Uh, spoilers for movies and 'Agents of SHIELD' season two finale?**

"Author Is Cruel"

"We thought we were capturing the king of Asgard, but this is even better," the dwarf leader remarked, circling Loki, who was kneeling on the ground, royal finery torn from him and cast aside. He was disturbed that they had broken into the king's quarters, and was glad that at least his distance from the palace would awaken Odin, releasing him from Loki's enchantment.

"My father would not care for my return," Loki said. "I am no bargaining chip of value, I can assure you. You waste your time deluding yourself that I can be of any use—"

"A war criminal in two – no, is it three? – realms," the leader said, and he tilted Loki's chin up with a dirty finger. "Your mother is _dead_, your fault, so we hear. Your brother prefers Midgard. Would you rather be returned to Asgard and face their punishment, or ours?"

"It depends upon what you deem appropriate punishment for slights not made against you," Loki replied.

"Not slights from _you_, Prince Loki. Your father."

"Odin is _not_ my father."

"We have our quarrels with both Jötunheim and Asgard."

"Neither realm has anyone who values me," Loki said, disappointed that this was the case. With Frigga gone – had she even cared? – there was no one on his side. Thanos abandoned him, Thor and his friends, both of Asgard and Midgard, hated him. With good reason, he acknowledged. He killed one favoured by the Avengers.

"And what of your soulmate?"

"My soulmate?" Loki snorted indelicately. "What soulmate? I have none."

"What is this on your back, then?" another dwarf said, hitting Loki right where his soulmark was located. He winced.

"I have not met them," he said, correcting himself. "And I am unlikely to. Surely you know that a few words are no guarantee, in any realm?"

"More than a few, judging by their shape," the leader said, leaning in closer to read them. "What do they say?"

"I would never tell you," Loki said.

"They are not in any language I recognise."

Loki had not thought to enquire, while on Midgard, whether it was one of their languages. He had never been able to read them. All-Speak did not extend to the written word, and it was just another way in which he had been mocked as a child. But now that he gave thought to it, the lettering resembled some of that which he had seen in Midgard.

"It will matter no longer after this," the leader said, walking away. Loki struggled against his bonds, his magic suppressed. He had to choose between giving up and trying to talk his way out of this. What was the point in escape? He would never be accepted anywhere else, and if he returned home he would face punishment for masquerading as Odin and secretly usurping the throne.

"What do you plan?" Loki said. "I have told you that I am of no use to you. Will you just kill me, and leave me on Odin's doorstep to be walked over?"

"You are close to the truth," his captor replied. "We will leave you on Odin's doorstep, but alive. It is far crueller, what I have in mind." He grinned over his shoulder, and chills ran up and down Loki's spine.

"Indulge my curiosity," he said, putting all his remaining courage into his voice and bearing. The leader chuckled, a harsh sound.

"An interesting thought crossed my mind," he said. "Whether a soulmark remains… when its bearer no longer has a soul?"

Loki's eyes widened in horror mere moments before fire tore through his chest.

He awoke to Odin crouching over him, begging him to wake up, but no emotion stirred in Loki's heart. He stared at the man, knew who he was and what he was supposed to mean to Loki, but he could not understand the look on Odin's face.

"What is it, your highness?" he said, attempting to sit up. Odin kept a hand on his chest.

"You were left here by the dwarves," Odin said. "Rest awhile. I will take you to the healers, but you must not exert yourself, my son."

Loki frowned. "I am not your son. I am Laufey's son. Why do you call me yours when I am not? It is illogical."

Odin stared at him. "Something is different about you, Loki."

"The dwarves…" He tried to remember. "They spoke of my soulmark. I do not have a soulmate."

"You will find them one day, _my son_," Odin said, his voice a touch louder than before. It still made no sense. There was no logic in it, and Loki said as much.

"Your highness!" a healer said, one that Loki recognised, running towards them. "We will see Prince Loki now."

Odin's eyebrows drew together, and he hefted Loki up from the floor.

"Lead on," Odin said, holding Loki close.

"Sire, you appear upset," he said.

"We must discover what the dwarves did to you!"

"I believe…" Loki sifted through his last memories before awaking, but they felt unclear. It wasn't until he was set down upon the table that he recalled. "Ah yes. They wondered whether a soulmark would disappear along with the soul."

"…What monsters," Odin whispered. "They could not possibly remove your soul."

Loki thought that it was a likely explanation, but did not say so as Odin appeared agitated enough. The last thing he needed was to upset Asgard's sole monarch.

* * *

Phil knew that all his pain wasn't coming from the end of his arm, where a hand used to be. He'd even thought he was having a heart attack, which would've been inconvenient in the extreme, but had to chalk it up to stress when the Inhumans tried to take over the floating base. The pain remained, phantom, even after Mack seemed to cut it off at the source. His aching soulmark, which he'd never been able to read, and now wondered whether or not that was a good thing. It hadn't reappeared, annoyingly enough, but then amputees rarely grew new soulmarks if they lost that part of their body.

Well… at least he had pictures of it? Travelling with SHIELD had exposed him to many languages, but none had writing which resembled it. The Kree blood didn't give him any clarity on the matter, so unless they saw Sif again…

Oh, to see anyone from Asgard who could try to read it. Foster and Thor were apparently soulmates – hence getting her the hell away from America when Loki came – but what were the odds that _Phil's_ soulmate was from another realm? He should've shown it to Sif or Thor when he met them, ask whether they could tell what it said. But he'd grown used to covering it to stop the questions, the bullying, the wild theories tossed about as he grew up. The pitying looks, worst of all, and the passing years telling him that he'd never find his soulmate, and just to give up, give in to the inevitable loneliness.

No wonder he clung to his SHIELD family. They were all he'd ever have. Better than a handful of weird symbols which he'd lost forever.

* * *

"He thinks it's safer here… _why_?" Steve asked incredulously, staring at Thor. The larger man sighed.

"Because Loki's soul has been ripped from him and lost forever," he replied. "He is now as vulnerable in Asgard… more so than before. At least he is now on equal footing with your fellow mortals, captain. He cannot use his old tricks, but he is a formidable fighter."

"And you want to leave him with us."

"My father only wishes Loki's safety. He feels that he has failed my brother many times over, and that Mother would wish…" He swallowed visibly, the pain obvious in his eyes, but Steve couldn't feel too much sympathy when they'd all lost their mothers, and were now going to be stuck with a murderous psychopath who could outstrip them all with strength alone. Admittedly, it was terrible that his very soul had been torn out of him, and apparently Loki had never found his soulmate in thousands of years, but Steve could never forget the destruction Loki had wrought on Earth last time he was here.

"I don't know, Thor," he said. It was like the prince read his mind, eyes narrowing.

"What of the number of mortals whose deaths you have been responsible for, innocent or otherwise?" he asked. "The weapons of mass destruction created by the Man of Iron? The soldiers you have slain? What of those you destroyed on SHIELD's orders, perhaps on _HYDRA's_ orders? The former assassins on our team? I have read some of your religious tome. Does it not teach that the one without sin may cast the first stone?"

Steve gaped, probably unattractively. Thor had an excellent point, which he _really_ didn't want to concede, simply on principle. But then on principle he _had_ to acknowledge it.

"Uh… okay," he said, completely side-lined. "Right. I'll… make sure there's a room ready. There's a guest room on my floor. Or, uh, on the Avengers base, if Tony still has… issues with Loki being here." He cleared his throat. "Tell your father for me?"

Thor smiled brightly, and Steve suppressed a sigh of his own. "I will inform him at once! You have our eternal gratitude, Captain Rogers."

_For all the good it'll do_, Steve thought as Thor bounded out of the room, taking the sunshine with him.

* * *

"You think it'll work?" Phil said, raising his eyebrows. Maria nodded.

"Better than going to Stark for a robotic arm," she said.

"It's only part of the arm—"

"Which should make it easier to grow back."

"…But there's nothing for it to grown _on_," he pointed out. "Some kind of magic—"

"Or a mirror image of your right arm," she said.

"You know that's not how it works!"

"Look, you told me Fitz has been unproductive since Simmons's disappearance," Maria said, a bit harshly in Phil's opinion. After all, it wasn't a pleasant way to go, and they had no idea how to get her back, part of what was driving Fitz mad.

"I can't blame him," he said. "He's just lost his soulmate and has no idea how—"

"We all have our problems. I… don't mean to sound insensitive, but your people have a way of solving the unsolvable. You'll find her. In the meantime, Dr. Cho's machine should help you. It's a quicker, more effective solution than dealing with a robotic prosthesis. Any kind, let's be honest."

He heaved a sigh. "I should reveal that I'm alive, shouldn't I?"

"Eventually, but not while Loki is around."

"…_What_?" he bit out, tensing. Maria glanced away briefly.

"Loki is staying at the new Avengers base at the moment," she said. "Stark is spending time there, and I figured that if you wanted to see them, you'd prefer not to deal with…"

"The alien who killed me," he finished. She nodded. "Fuck. Okay. I'll give Fitz one day, and then… I'll meet with your doctor." After she hung up, he sat there in silence, thinking, _Not Loki. Why him?_

* * *

"So your soulmark is intact," Tony said, and he studied Loki's back. "Huh. Who would've thought?"

"If my soulmate is of a different realm, then perhaps it spared them," he said. "It would be better if they have a new mark. A bond could never be possible now."

"Heard your dad… or whatever he is, heard he had a plan."

Loki hummed idly. "He believes that stripping me entirely of my immortality and leaving me human, not even a Jötun but _human_, might give me a new soul. Whether it would give me a new soulmate…" He shrugged. "However, he claims it to be a last resort. I do not see the appeal in having a soul."

"Because you've forgotten what it's like. What… _feelings_ are like."

"It appears that they are not worth it," Loki said. "Your captain is pining over Thor, even though they are not soulmates; you and Miss Potts are apparently unhappy – and in fact you appear to be attracted to me, for some reason – the aptly-named widow of your group pines for the one who thrashed me in your tower; the twins have an unnaturally close relationship for blood siblings; and your falcon is ostensibly searching for the captain's friend while keeping him hidden, which you would all know were you observant, rather than blinded by these feelings you deem so necessary for a happy existence." Tony was frozen, staring at Loki. "There seems little point to soulmateship and soulbonds when the concept has been twisted beyond recognition."

"…Okay, have you ever tried coffee? Because you need to stay away from caffeine."

"A strange segue indeed."

Tony sighed. "I guess your soulmark is pretty specific," he said. "It's kinda long."

"I have seen some of the words in Midgard, but writing does not translate to All-Speak."

"Wait, so you don't know what this says?"

"No."

"Huh." Tony pulled out his phone, snapped a picture for posterity, and then cleared his throat dramatically. "Okay. It says… it says 'Move away, please. You like this? We started working on the prototype after you sent The Destroyer. Even I don't know what it does. Do you wanna find out? You're gonna lose.' Hmm. Could be a SHIELD agent? We're screwed if they're HYDRA. Looks like they weren't letting you get a word in edgewise. Loki? What's the matter?"

Loki kept very still. "The Destroyer. References to losing. I… believe I know who spoke those words to me. Not that all my memories of… that time are intact. But I think the man who spoke them… was the one I killed in front of Thor. You called him…?"

"Phil," Tony said, his throat growing thick. "His name was Phil."

"He shot me, I recall that much." He blinked rapidly. "You see? This is why emotions are not worth it. If I had my soul, I am sure this would affect me deeply."

"You _killed_ your _soulmate_," Tony said slowly. "That's pretty fucking big. Yeah, most people would lose it."

"Hmm. Instead… I am aware that it is a terrible thing, while also aware that nothing can be done about it. He is dead by my hand—"

"Fury."

"I beg your pardon?"

"That son of a bitch. _That's_ who he meant. He meant Coulson. Coulson's alive!"

"Coulson—?"

"Phil Coulson! Your soulmate's… possibly not dead. That's a good thing. I'm gonna ask Hill about it. Put your shirt back on, and let's get going."

* * *

Phil couldn't stop staring at his 'shiny-shiny new hand', as Skye called it when he sent a picture. His soulmark had reappeared to his tearful amazement, and he'd bought the biggest flower arrangement available for Dr. Cho and all her assistants, hoping none of them were allergic to flowers. Well, they worked in a medical facility.

After his final check-up, he left Dr. Cho's office, only to run into about half a dozen disappointed faces. A swift glance reassured him that Loki wasn't there, but since Pepper Potts, Natasha Romanov, and Clint Barton were among those gathered in front of him, he was still terrified. Just… for different reasons. Obviously. Since they'd never killed him before, and hopefully wouldn't now, or that would be a waste of resources.

"…Hey," he said, with a small wave. "What-up?"

Oh God. He'd spent way too much time talking to Skye. Pepper scowled.

"That's _it_?" she nearly shrieked. "After three years, _that's it_?"

"I concur," Clint said, crossing his arms as he glared at Phil. Natasha's face remained scarily blank. If he was a lesser man, he would've taken off by now. Unsuccessfully, of course, but he'd try.

"I'm sorry?" he said. Not the slightest idea why he was apologising… aside from the fact that obviously Clint and Natasha would never trust him again, although as it turns out they were right not to trust SHIELD in the first place, but they wouldn't trust _his_ SHIELD, and he hated losing people's trust, and _damn_ Fury. This was _his_ fault. And Loki's, but he wasn't here for Phil to glare at.

"You're sorry for…?" Clint said, leaving it open. Phil's shoulders slumped minutely.

"Not telling you I was alive," he said. "Dying brought you together, but… my mind was messed with, and I didn't want you to see me going insane when I realised that's what was happening, and then SHIELD fell, and now I'm the _director_. You want no part of it, which I completely understand, as well as you hating me, which I'm sure you do. Trust me, I wish I'd never been brought back to life. Everything…" It hurt so much to say this, but it was true. "Everything would've been better if I'd stayed dead. We all know that." Trip would be alive, Gonzales would be alive, Simmons would still be around, and… okay, they wouldn't have Skye. Hell, the team might not have been created if it wasn't for Fury wanting to keep Phil out of sight.

He didn't have the energy to interpret their expressions; their silence was enough. He swallowed deeply, then turned on his heel and began to walk away.

"…Phil!"

He halted in place, wincing at the hurried clacking of high heeled shoes. But then Pepper threw her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder. Phil touched her waist, not sure what to do with a crying Pepper Potts. It was okay, though, because then Natasha and Clint were hugging him as well, followed by others.

When they finally took him outside, they seemed surprised to see Thor there. Phil could understand it; he thought the man had returned to Asgard after the events of Ultron, but apparently not. Oh, of course; he'd brought Loki.

"Son of Coul, I am glad to see that you live once more," he said gravely.

"Thanks," Phil said, blinking in the sunlight. "Uh…"

"Can you read your soulmark?"

…Weird question, but fortuitous, so Phil rolled with it. He held out his hand.

"Didn't realise it would regrow with the limb, but the tech is advanced," he said. "I've never known what it says. I was hoping that the next time I saw Sif – anyone from Asgard – I could find out whether it was a… a non-Midgardian language."

"Aye," Thor said, his large hand cradling Phil's. "`Tis Asgardian, as I suspected."

"As you… _suspected_?"

"It says 'Am I?'," Thor explained.

"Oh, great," Phil muttered. "That's a lot to go on. Well, thank you, Thor. I'll be on the lookout if ever I run into another Asgardian."

"You may have already met your soulmate," Thor said, twiddling his thumbs.

Phil cocked his head. "Do you know who it is?" he asked.

"…Were those my brother's first words to you?"

Phil suddenly felt light-headed.

"Shit," he said.

"Son of Coul?"

"Yes, I think they were. I…" He shook his head frantically, trying to remember his last moments before he died. His sole conversation with Loki. "I think they might've been. He was smug after, you know, _stabbing me through the heart_. This is typical, you know that? Of course my soulmate killed me. Because why the hell not?"

"It will not be necessary for you to bond with Loki," Thor said. "He has no soul."

"…Oh."

"It was taken from him and banished. Had he the ability to feel emotion, I am sure he would dread meeting you again, fearing your censure." Thor cast his gaze to the ground. "It would be well-deserved. I must apologise for my part in bringing him aboard, and falling victim to his tricks again. Had I behaved differently towards him through our lives, I am sure this never would have happened."

"Don't blame yourself," Phil said. "He… really doesn't have a soul anymore?"

"No."

"Then why do I still have a soulmark? Why did it reform on my new…?" He shook his hand for emphasis.

"I know not, but I will ask my father when next I see him," Thor said. "I hope to see you again soon, Son of Coul."

Then he flew into the sky, which unfortunately drew some attention. Before the press could descend on Pepper, Happy ushered them into the back of the limo, probably one of Stark's, and Phil surrendered himself to the inevitable meeting, cursing May for obviously going along with… whatever this was.

* * *

Odin had appeared, having apparently exhausted all other possibilities. The remaining plan would have caused Loki undoubted fear if he could feel it. Instead, he tilted his head and stared at Asgard's king.

"What would I do without my magic?" he asked.

"Whatever you wanted, my son," Odin said. Loki resisted the impulse to frown as he usually did when the monarch referred to Loki as his offspring. "You have a soulmate who deserves the chance to bond with you, if you convince him of your worth."

"What if I age rapidly upon my long life being stripped?"

Odin sighed. "Loki, these are unchartered waters, but you are still young by Asgardian standards. And Jotun standards, before you ask. Your physical age should not differ greatly from what it is now. Look at Thor's visit here."

"Ah," Loki said, nodding. "I am compared to him again, despite our obvious – and less obvious – differences." There was a flinch, which he could not understand. Why would this pain Odin? "I assure you, sire, I am capable of living a full life without emotions."

"It will _not_ be full, Loki! Not without a soul! Your soulmark remains, and your soulmate's mark has returned. You are meant to have the opportunity to bond. You owe it to him, and yourself, to give this a chance." His brow furrowed. "I would rather live with the pain of your mother's death than live without the happiness she also brought to my life." He settled his hands on Loki's shoulders. "You may wish to kneel for this."

"I have no say in the matter? I believe this is what Midgardians call déjà vu."

"If I am careful, you will retain your memories," Odin said. "They are connected to your soul. Once it has regrown…"

"These are pretty theories, but is reality not harsher?" Loki said, trying one last time to change the king's mind. Odin shook his head.

"Midgardians have a saying," he said. "`Tis better to have loved and lost…"

Within seconds, Loki passed out from the pain.

* * *

Something was covering Loki's hand. His arm twitched in reaction, and the other thing – someone else's hand? – swiftly retreated.

"I shouldn't be here."

"You must stay, Son of Coul."

"He's waking up—"

"As Loki's soulmate you must remain at his side until he dismisses."

"…_What_?"

"It is only right."

"Only—"

Loki coughed to gain their attention, cracking his eyelids open against the bright light, and didn't know how to feel when he saw Thor standing over a man Loki was sure he had maimed the day he tried to take New York. '_Son of Coul_', Thor had said. This was the one Stark called 'Phil', was it not? Loki's soulmate? By the Norns!

"You are my soulmate?" he asked hoarsely. Thor pressed a cup of water into Loki's hand, and 'Phil' helped him drink some of it. Remarkably refreshing.

"Stark showed me a picture of yours, and it definitely looks like my writing, though I'd like to see for myself. Thor believes… well, here." He bared his left hand, and Loki saw 'Am I?' in his own writing. He wanted to touch it, but there was no way in the realms that this man would welcome Loki's touch, and certainly no chance of a bond. What had Odin been _thinking_? Because Loki certainly remembered his 'father's' Great Idea now.

"Yes, `tis my hand," he said to avoid voicing his thoughts. He shied away when Phil made to touch his arm. "Please. I… I do not deserve…" He lowered his head, _hating_ emotions, hating that he could hate anything at all. "You could not possibly…"

"Forgive you?"

"Among other things," Loki muttered.

"Seems I'll have to, since we'll be seeing more of each other. The Avengers are willing to form an _in_formal alliance with SHIELD, and since I'm the director, and since you're with them… if you want to be. If not, you're… welcome to join SHIELD. Or at least train with us, maybe. I… I don't know what you want to do." He chewed on his lower lip, which distracted Loki for a moment. "It's up to you. In the spirit of soulmateship and so forth, I'd like to call a truce. Try for friendship, see whether it goes anywhere."

"That sounds perfectly acceptable to me," Loki said, swept in relief. It was not as dire as he had imagined. Phil appeared uncomfortable, but he was not running from the room. He was giving Loki a chance, the one Odin had told him to take.

And so he would. Without hesitation.

* * *

**Okay, no idea what happened there. When I came up with this idea I was absolutely horrified, then intrigued, then somewhat horrified again, and then inspired. As I said, all there in the title. Author is cruel to characters.**

**Now, I know plenty of people wanted a continuation of the previous chapter, but that would probably only happen if I wrote a bonding scene chapter, which would be quite a work-up. Unless I give in and do what ozhawk does, and occasionally continue a thing in another chapter. But then she does the smart thing and focuses on one pairing per chapter, rather than writing complicated things as I often do.**

**I have no idea who requested this pairing, but there were a few people. Didn't note them down because I kept saying that I already had one plotted. Then I wrote this, which is much angstier (thanks SO much, Joss Whedon).**

**Please review!**


	106. Must Be Joking (Deadpool x Hunter)

**Note: Usual spoilers for 'Agents of SHIELD' and movies to date.**

"Must Be Joking"

"Most people in my field suit the name 'mercenary'," Hunter said, wiping the excess sleep from his eyes. "Remember what I was like before?"

"Now you side with good over money, thank God," Coulson said.

"Yeah," Fitz added from the other side of the office. He had an ice pack on his forehead as he lounged on the couch. Hunter was propped beside him, sitting on the floor with his legs straight out in front of him. Coulson was tapping idly on his desk.

"No," Hunter said, and they looked at him. "I side with _you_ over money."

"Careful, or I'll get toothache," Coulson riposted, changing the rhythm of his tapping.

"Don't you know _anyone_ outside of SHIELD who'd join, even just on contract?" Fitz asked, shoving the ice pack up his forehead when it began to slip.

"No one I've met," Hunter said, frowning as he tried to think. "Some by reputation, but HYDRA has more money than us. I guess it's a matter of finding someone who'd hate… _them_ just as much as we do."

"The Avengers have the Maximoff twins," Coulson said, and he sighed. "Damn. It would've been good to have a few more powered people. I know they make Mack nervous, although I think his main issue is with me."

"At least he's here, and searching for Simmons," Fitz said. "He's her soulmate, after all."

"I know you want to get involved, mate, but even though they never bonded he still has a better chance of finding her with their… sort-of-connection," Hunter said, patting Fitz's knee. Fitz grumbled something unintelligible, and knocked his hand away.

"Don't need your sympathy," he mumbled.

"My last resort is to approach the X-Men," Coulson continued as if the side conversation hadn't happened at all. "They're already busy enough with this sudden surge of people developing powers. I don't want to add to their workload."

"There aren't any people I can contact," Hunter said. "As soon as they hear I'm working for SHIELD they won't—"

"We prefer you here," Fitz said quickly. Hunter rolled his eyes.

"Wasn't gonna leave," he said. "But I won't have a number for anyone I've never met."

"Logical," Coulson said.

"There's…" Hunter winced, remembering a name. "I only know him by reputation, never spoken to him in my life, but he's been a science experiment before. He has connections, even though people hate to use them because apparently he's the most annoying person you'll ever come across…" He took a breath, released it slowly. "Have you heard of Deadpool?"

"…Wade Wilson? You think _he'd_ help SHIELD?"

Hunter shrugged, still reluctant. "Worth a try, if we could find him. Not as fast as that new bloke with the Avengers, but an amazing swordsman by all accounts. Learns his weapons quickly, apparently invincible, skilled fighter. Insane, and talks too much."

"Is that the entire pros and cons list?" Coulson asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Probably not. Just condensing what I've heard, boss."

"Sounds like an interesting person," Fitz said, and Hunter gave him a dirty look. "Our team's made up of… uh, funny people. Ex-something."

"Ecstatic?"

"No."

"Eccentric?"

"That's it! Eccentric. Just as long as he's loyal, I don't see how his more… annoying at… at…"

"Attributes?"

"Would be enough of a, uh, turn-off?"

"Fitz is right," Coulson said. "Do you know how to find him? Deadpool, I mean?"

"Not a clue," Hunter said. "But I think he knows the X-Men. If you can get in touch with them, they might be able to give you a bead on him."

"Not a bead," Coulson muttered, reaching for his phone. "Anything but a bead." He dialled a number as Fitz reached out blindly and managed to pat Hunter on the shoulder (after poking his ear).

* * *

Charles Xavier had stopped looking at Deadpool because of the latter's infuriating habit of teleporting unnecessarily around a confined space. He was close to resting his elbows on the desk, and projected a glare to his sister. Raven sniggered, barely audible over Deadpool's chatter. Logan was silent, as usual, but Charles was sure he was following every teleportation with sharp eyes.

"…and someone's finally asking for my help! Sure, the pay doesn't sound great, but it makes a nice," teleport, "change from people trying to kill me, so," teleport back, "I think I'll accept the offer. I mean, it's a good offer, isn't it," teleport, "Professor X?"

"It sounds very good," Charles said. "But after the events of HYDRA and SHIELD, I would prefer to meet with the director myself, and mediate should things get…"

"What? Awkward? D'you think I'm gonna be killed again?"

"I hope not. Blood stains are terribly difficult to clean up."

"And they spoil the décor," Logan muttered.

"Just be yourself," Raven said, changing from her blonde cover to her natural blue.

"Won't that make them decide I'm not worth it?" Deadpool said. It was glimpses of that insecure man which made Charles feel somewhat protective of Wade Wilson, even though the mercenary was in no way his responsibility. But Logan had worked with him before (killed him a few times), and Erik and Deadpool had bonded over their hatred of being science experiments. When Raven joined that particular party, Charles had broken out the good scotch. Erik was predictably cuddly later, but Raven was too tipsy to look after mournful Deadpool, which left Charles in an awkward position. Not his best night.

"If they don't want you for who you are, screw `em," Raven advised, and Logan snorted when Deadpool brightened. "No, not literally."

"Aw. But what if my soulmate…? Nah, not likely." He shrugged. "When'll they get here, Prof?"

"Not long now," Charles said, wishing that Erik didn't have a class so that he could be here, all supportive and just… yes, supportive.

It wasn't long at all before Storm brought Director Coulson in, followed by two men.

"I'm Phil Coulson," he said, leaning over the desk and holding out his hand. Charles shook it, taking in the prosthesis on the director's left arm.

"Charles Xavier," he replied.

"A pleasure to finally meet you in person, Professor Xavier."

"Please, sit down, Director Coulson."

"Thanks, but we won't keep you. We're just here to make an offer to Mr. Wilson."

"Ooh! Mr. Wilson." Deadpool teleported to the director's side, who, to his credit, looked unfazed by the sudden movement. "I like you already. I'm Deadpool, or Wade, or Mr. Wilson. I like the last one best, actually. So! You wanna hire my services? It'll cost you, depending on what you want me to do."

"Actually, I wanted to offer you part-time work, not just contract," Director Coulson, raising an eyebrow. Deadpool's jaw dropped momentarily.

"Wait, as in _steady_ work?" he said.

"Relatively, with quarters at the base, a salary—"

"Trial period?"

"A week or three missions, whichever comes first. One or two missions, depending on how badly they snowball. Not everything goes to plan, much as we'd like it to." The director continued to smile pleasantly, while Deadpool bounced on the balls of his feet.

"And if I passed? If you gave me an _actual_ job? You wouldn't kick me out, would you? I'd have somewhere to stay where people wouldn't hate me… much?"

"We're not like that," one of Coulson's men said. He sounded English, and had a scruff of a beard. Deadpool froze, and Charles could almost feel his heart racing.

"Good to know," Deadpool finally managed to say. "If you're sure. You don't have to… you know, if you don't want me, which I'd understand. It'd be awkward around the workplace, but… I mean, you probably didn't… Those were my words."

"Hunter?" Coulson said, looking back over his shoulder. Hunter stared at Deadpool, who was hopping from one foot to another (though no longer teleporting around the office, thank God). He swallowed visibly.

"Well," he said. "I guess we'll have to take you with us, won't we?"

Coulson hesitated, and then smiled at Deadpool. "You'd better come along, then."

"You're my soulmate?" Deadpool said, still gazing at Hunter, who looked partly-bemused. Charles entered his mind gently, wishing to avoid detection, and heard snatches of thoughts. 'Not how I expected today to go.' 'Should've known he'd be a chatterbox.' 'Wonder where his soulmark is.' 'My God, that costume is tight.' Charles smiled at the last one, and noticed Hunter's gaze drifting up and down Deadpool's body.

"Surely hope so," Hunter said.

"You must have one of the longest soulmarks in the world."

"Not showing you here, mate." Hunter cocked his head towards the door. "Coming?"

"Uh-huh," Deadpool said, and he glanced at Charles. "Thanks for bein' all protective, Prof, but I'll be getting out of your hair now. Bye, Logan! Bye, Bluebell!"

He waved to the others, grabbed Hunter's hand, and fairly yanked him out of the room.

"We'll be going, unless there's something you want to talk about?" Coulson said.

"Nothing which cannot be discussed over the phone," Charles replied. "Good day."

Coulson nodded at Logan, and then at Raven.

"Miss," he said, and he gestured for his other agent to precede him. But Charles noticed Raven tense, and then dash to his side.

"What did you call me?" she said.

Oh God. Charles had forgotten that. Coulson blinked, opened his mouth, and then quickly shut it again.

"Sorry," he said. "My mistake."

"What's your mistake?" she asked, and she turned back to her blonde form. Coulson's half-smile turned rueful.

"Definitely too young to be my…" He trailed off, covering it with a terribly fake cough.

"Not because I'm a mutant?" she said, her fingers twisting together.

"What? You mean… did I say your soulmark? You said…"

"Yeah, you said it," Raven said. "You really think it's because I look so… young?"

"I was born with my soulmark."

"And I grew up with Charles. I'm much older than I look, Director Coulson."

He stared at her. "What's your name?"

"Raven."

"If you don't age…"

"I do. I can look however I want to look," she explained. "I'll look older if you want me to. I can… I can look however you want m—"

"Why would I want that?" he asked. "You're you. You're… you're my soulmate?" She held out her hand, returning to her natural form, and showed him the single word there. "You _are_. Why would I want you to be anyone else?"

She looked incredibly lost, which made Charles's heart ache.

"Go on," he said. "You can talk it over in the sitting room next door." Where he could keep an 'eye' on things, and it wasn't too far away. Raven nodded, and tugged Coulson out the door. Hmm. Charles would have to think of a better threat than 'Hurt her and I'll kill you with my brain'. If SHIELD didn't mind having a shape-shifter, they couldn't find better than his sister, and he knew she was itching to get away from the house, but still have purpose in an environment where she wouldn't be judged.

"Nice to meet you," the remaining agent said in a soft Scottish accent. His eyes flicked over Logan. "Very nice indeed." Logan's eyebrows rose rapidly. "Sorry. That was inappropriate. I'd better go."

"Don't," Logan said. Charles could have groaned in disbelief when he read Logan's surface thoughts. "Stay here."

"…_What _did you say?"

"You're my soulmate."

"Even with, uh, puncture… something."

"Punctuation?" Charles suggested. The agent turned red and nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "With that. My soulmark still seemed sort of… menacing? My mother told me it would all work out, but I preferred to remain cynical, just in case." His hands were shaking as they twisted around each other. "I suppose she was right."

Logan led the curly-haired agent out of the room, and Charles managed to hear the name 'Leo Fitz' before his door closed. Still baffled by the morning's events, he poked about until he found Erik's mind. He generally stayed out, especially this close to his birthday, because he knew how Erik felt about his surprises being spoiled. But this merited mention.

_All three SHIELD representatives found their soulmates in Deadpool, Raven, and Logan_, he told Erik. _Must be something about this office_.

_If that is the case_, Erik thought fiercely, _then you are not to allow anyone who isn't me to enter your domain until _I_ get there_.

_Yes, dear_.

* * *

Hunter still hadn't heard from Coulson and Fitz, but Deadpool kept distracting him in effective ways. Good thing Hunter and Bobbi were divorced, and that she was planning to leave SHIELD, or at least stop their liaisons, otherwise he'd feel guilty. They always knew they weren't soulmates, but laughed in the face of it, especially when Hunter decided his soulmate was either one hell of a chatterbox, or they'd be a nervous wreck upon meeting him. Annoying vs. zero confidence. Either way, he wasn't interested.

But Deadpool was… unique. He kept arguing with some invisible presence, like they were in a movie or book, before going back to talk Hunter's ears off, or kissing him silly. And trying to get his hand down Hunter's pants the entire time, which _wasn't_ happening until the third date, at least. And no, this did _not_ count as a first, second, or third date.

"Your people aren't back yet," Deadpool said slyly, toying with the zip of Hunter's tac gear. "Wouldn't that be the best way to pass the time?"

"Not having a quickie in a van with my _soulmate_," Hunter said. "Not for our first time."

"Ooh, how romantic." Deadpool nipped the skin behind Hunter's ear. "I've heard of you, and not just through comics or Wikis either, though you're different in the comics. Way hotter, and more… hmm, three-dimensional, if you know what I mean." He winked, and Hunter really had no idea what Deadpool was talking about, but he nodded anyway. "Hey, you don't have to placate me or anything. I can take criticism."

"Wasn't planning to criticise you, love," Hunter said, the endearment slipping out before he could think. Deadpool wrapped his legs tighter around Hunter's waist, still on his lap.

"Aw. You're such a cutie. A romantic _and_ a cutie, with an adventurous streak. Plus, a former merc like me, now employed by the good guys, or whatever SHIELD agents are."

"We're the good guys."

"Then so am I! We're a match made in heaven." Deadpool kissed him again, and Hunter nearly hit the back of his head on the van wall. "Or in the author's twisted brain. Either way, I'm really lucking out when it comes to soulmates."

"Hey, only one," Hunter said, poking his backside. "Uh, try not to hate my ex, alright? I know I call her a harpy and a she-devil all the time, but she kept breaking my heart."

"I'm not gonna do that," Deadpool said, wide-eyed. "Break your heart, that is. If she hurts you again I can't guarantee I won't kill her—"

"Wade!"

"_Fine_!" he declared dramatically, draping himself over Hunter. "Whatever you want, sweetheart. `Kay?"

"Lovely," Hunter said. Sarcasm optional.

"'Sarcasm optional'? What the hell does that even mean?"

Shut up, Deadpool! I'm trying to be clever. You know I suck at description.

"After the third date… or maybe the second date, I'm totally gonna suck Hunter's—"

WADE!

* * *

**Ugh. No idea how that happens. I've borrowed a Deadpool book out of the library, so hopefully I'll be able to write him a bit better in future.**

**So. No one requested any of these pairings, from what I can tell, although there are always calls for more Deadpool. I loved the idea of Fitz/Wolverine, and decided that it was only fair to give Phil a soulmate, so I chose Mystique because why the hell not? I can imagine her offering to take a different form for bonding, and Phil being all 'Why?', and Raven becoming an awesome SHIELD agent, and Logan hammering Fitz into the nearest surface whenever they're alone together. But then I'm inappropriate like that.**

**Please review!**


	107. Ever So Shy (Deadpool x Steve)

"Ever So Shy"

It was three months after Peggy died that Steve got a new soulmark. It would've seemed more… sudden? Shocking? If they'd had a life together. Maybe it was worse _because_ they'd lost their chance? No. He definitely felt a sense of relief when her words disappeared. If not for the fact that Bucky was somewhere out there, he would've lost his last link to the past, and holding out hope for Buck's return was potentially unhealthy.

Then… it hit him. He'd received new words. He had a new soulmate. Were they Blank before, or had they lost _their_ soulmate? That would explain why he was only now getting a replacement soulmark.

In which case… he couldn't. He just couldn't meet them yet. It was too soon for them, whoever they were. He'd have to avoid anyone named…

* * *

"Wade Wilson?" Clint said, eyebrows hitting the ceiling.

"Yeah," Steve said, showing off his soulmark with no small amount of pride. The handwriting was gorgeous, real calligraphy style, and he hoped his scrawl wasn't a source of embarrassment for his soulmate. It said, 'Hi, I'm Wade Wilson'. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"You don't care that your new soulmate is a dude?"

"Why would I care?" Steve asked, his brow furrowing as he looked up at Clint. "Do _you_ care that my soulmate is a man?"

"Well…"

"Clint, if everyone from the forties was homophobic, society would never have progressed as far as it has," he replied. "Look at the court ruling the other day. Since I was unfrozen, I was already impressed by how far America had come in its acceptance. I know that not _everyone_ has let go of prejudice, but it's a big improvement. If Wade wants a platonic relationship, I'll… I'll go with that. But if he's okay with non-platonic, then we'll go for that instead. Slowly, of course." He straightened his back. "I'm treating my soulmate right, no matter what."

They looked up as Tony wandered into the room. He looked around, and not seeing Pepper began to walk out again. Clint coughed, and Tony looked back over his shoulder.

"What is it, Merida?" he asked.

"Steve's got a new soulmate," Clint said.

"His name is Wade Wilson," Steve said, and he showed off the mark. "At least that's what he's gonna say. Have you ever _seen_ writing like this? I can't get over it."

"…Wade Wilson?" Tony said. His voice sounded strangled, but when Steve looked up at him, worried, Tony's expression was clear. "Wow."

"Wait. Do you _know_ him? Do you know who my soulmate is?"

"I know a Wade Wilson," Clint said. "Worked with him before. He's…" He tilted his hand. "Well, uh…"

"Shy," Tony said. Steve blinked.

"Shy?" he said. "Guess that explains why it's only four words long." He'd definitely seen longer soulmarks before, but with the leaps forward in science people didn't need to resort to grandiose greetings anymore.

"Only…?" Tony trailed off. "Yeah, makes sense. I'm surprised it's as many as _that_."

"Barely says boo to a goose," Clint said. He patted Steve on the shoulder. "Better not come on too strong, Cap."

"Chances are he's only just lost his soulmate," Steve said. "I wasn't planning to be too forward when we met, if it's anytime soon. But…" He held up his hands. "If you see him around, don't tell him yet, okay? And don't point him out. I'll let Fate lead me."

"Good idea," Tony said. "Wilson's a real introvert."

"Huh." That was a worry. "How d'you think he'd cope with the pressures of being…"

"Your soulmate?" Clint said. Steve laughed uncertainly.

"Sounds vain when you put it like that," he said. "But I've gotta take it into account. I don't _wanna_ keep it quiet, but I'll have to, to protect him."

"He can take care of himself," Clint said. "He's a fighter."

"…You said—"

"From the shadows. Like a SHIELD agent. You might not see him at first. Just be patient with him, let him open up to you slowly."

"Of course." Steve clenched his hands, getting his game face on. "I'd never pressure my soulmate into anything. Except maybe getting out of harm's way, but if he's a good fighter then he'll know how not to get himself killed."

"Well, he's survived so far," Tony said dryly. "Good luck, GI Joe."

* * *

During a soulmate rom-com marathon with Darcy, Steve decided that it was probably best not to find out anything more about his soulmate. If the heroes and heroines of these films didn't believe everything bad they heard about their soulmate before even meeting them, there'd be far less angst. And after everything Steve had gone through, he didn't want that anguish on top of everything else. There was nothing bad about shyness, although he had no idea how to draw Wade out of his shell.

"Sure you don't want me to find out everything I can?" Darcy asked, holding up her phone. Steve shook his head.

"It's best if I form my own opinion," he said. "If Fate wanted us to judge our soulmates through the grapevine… I don't know how to end that sentence without sounding blasphemous." Darcy sniggered, and he threw his last popcorn kernel at her. She picked it off her blouse and threw it into her mouth, even though cold, greasy popcorn was vile.

"Yeah, but how many people get their soulmate's name in their mark?" she said. "I could look up the statistic for you right now, but lemme tell you, Stevie-boy, it ain't many. In my vast, _vast_ experience, I've only met the one person lucky enough to have their soulmate's name on their skin before even meeting `em."

"Who's that?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You."

"…Oh."

"You seriously have an advantage. What if your soulmate has _your_ name, and is looking up everything they can about you?"

He frowned. "There are a lot of people with the name 'Steve Rogers' out there. My soulmate's not likely to think it's me."

"Well." She wriggled in place and grabbed the remote. "I'm still gonna look him up."

"Whatever you want, Darce. But don't tell me anything that you find. Well… unless he's a bad guy, or in jail or something. If I need to perform a rescue then I'm definitely gonna do that."

"Gotcha," she said, cuing the next film. "No spoilers."

"Thank you."

* * *

That wasn't to say that Steve wasn't slowly dying of curiosity. It'd been seventeen weeks since he received his new mark when they were in the middle of battle against Doom. He mustn't have known that the Fantastic Four were in California before visiting New York City, and bringing his latest silicon-coated robots with him. Those fighting Doom consisted of Steve, Natasha, and Clint. They suddenly received help in the form of a black and red-clad figure who'd appear from the shadows, duck back in after beheading a few of the `bots, rinse and repeat.

"What's Deadpool doing here?" Natasha called as Steve tossed his shield again.

"Ah, who knows?" Steve said. "At least he's on our side."

"Met him?"

"Not yet."

Fortunately, they got more help when Tony sent a backup suit remotely, from his meeting in Italy. Or was it the middle of the night there? Steve really had to check the time zone chart. Not that he minded inconveniencing Stark by calling him at strange times, as revenge for some prank or other.

"Is that Deadpool?" Clint said, and Steve noticed another explosion from one of the archer's arrows. "Shit. Uh, Steve?"

"Yeah?" he grunted, throwing his shield and beheading three `bots before it returned to his hand. "What is it?" He noticed the black and red figure salute him, then jump back into the fray with fast-moving swords.

"That's Wade Wilson."

Steve nearly lost his head to a robot. Natasha shot it down.

"He can meet Deadpool later," she said.

"Wade Wilson," Steve murmured. He grinned, and fought with renewed vigour. The sooner this was over – the Iron Man suit was free to take on Doom – the sooner he could find out whether it was _his_ Wade Wilson. He ignored Clint's choked laughter, and when Doom surrendered, powering down the last of his `bots, Steve left cleanup to the police and ran to where he'd last seen Deadpool. (Ominous name, but there were worse. Black Widow, for instance. At least it wasn't cheesy like, oh say, Captain America?) He switched off his comm. unit, wanting to keep this moment private.

"Hi." He swivelled on his heel, and Deadpool sauntered closer. "I'm Wade Wilson—"

Relief burst through Steve, and he stumbled over his words, interrupting Wade.

"I'm so glad to meet you, you have no idea," he said. "I really hope it isn't too soon, and that you're open to… anything. Whatever you want. Please don't turn me away? If you're my soulmate, that is. If not, then just ignore this."

Deadpool was silent for a few seconds, and Steve was worried that he'd overwhelmed him. Seemed he really was shy, and the full-body suit reinforced his opinion.

"Thought my soulmate would be the one with a long mark," Wade finally said. "Not the other way around. Yeah, I think my soulmark's probably the longest in the world? Not that I was planning to compete or anything, but _wow_, Captain America is seriously my soulmate? Where the hell did I go right in my life to get that lucky?"

"I'm sorry," Steve blurted. "I just… I got nervous. Meeting you. I know it's been a few months since you probably lost your soulmate. I lost mine about seven months ago, and when yours appeared I wasn't… I wasn't sure when I'd meet you, and I didn't want it to be too soon, and I didn't know what _I_ was gonna say, whether I'd be an ass or something…"

"Huh." Wade tilted his head, and then removed his mask. There were scars all over his skin, but otherwise it was a handsome face, and Steve _really_ hoped – shallow though it was – that Wade didn't want a platonic bond. "You usually this talkative? If so, I don't know whether either of us will ever have enough breath for kissing."

Well… that answered that question. "I can talk less?"

"You'll want _me_ to talk a lot less, trust me," Wade said, flicking his hand. "I'm not called the Merc with a Mouth for nothing, babe."

"You're called…?"

"I'm a mercenary," Wade said. "Hence thinking I've done something truly spectacular in a past life to land you. Only reason my soulmate hung around was because of our marks, and then she got pregnant, and I lost both of them, even though that was kind of another reality, but it's hard to tell with me. All depends on the author and the `verse, to be honest, and I'm _really_ liking this one, because you're so unbelievably hot that I'm surprised our clothes haven't melted off yet." His eyes were practically devouring Steve, who was trying to keep a grasp on… everything. "Clothes-melting would come in handy right now, `cause I'll bet you look even better without anything on. You might want _me_ to stay clothed, of course, though that'd be kind of inconvenient from the point-of-view of bonding. Then again, a guy like you shouldn't tie himself to someone like me."

…At least Steve didn't have to worry about drawing his soulmate out of his shell? Oh, Barton and Stark were gonna _pay_ for this.

"Maybe we should get into mufti first, then go for coffee?" he suggested. "You know, get out of uniform, t-then…" He stuttered as Deadpool walked closer, hips sashaying side to side, and swallowed deeply. "Uh…"

"Problem, captain?" Wade purred.

"…Oh, Christ."

"Mmm?"

"I really wanna kiss you, but I was gonna go slowly, `cause I thought you were gonna be shy." Unwilling to admit his gullibility just yet, he gestured vaguely towards his stomach. "Only four words, you see?"

"Huh," Wade said again. "Definitely not shy."

"I'm beginning to see that."

"D'you prefer the blushing maiden?"

"I'd prefer you to be in my bed, b-but not for a quick tumble." He licked his lips absently. "You're my soulmate. I want you there… always."

"Might get messy."

Steve rolled his eyes. "I meant I want _you_. For more than one night. I missed my other chance. I want talking, kissing, sleeping, bonding… the whole thing."

"Only _sleeping_?" Wade murmured, so close he was a step from being plastered to Steve.

"No," he replied. "I wanna fuck you into the mattress, then ride you like a bucking bronco, then swap places and do it all over again."

"How good's your stamina?" Wade asked, his eyes darkening.

"Damn good."

"Then I guess we'd better go somewhere private."

Thoughts of getting his revenge on Clint and Tony entered Steve's mind. Still, some things should be private.

"You got somewhere?" Steve asked. "Where we can be alone?"

"Want me all to yourself, huh?"

"We can save the exhibitionism for later."

"I like."

* * *

Tony was back from Italy and snuggling with Pepper when Steve arrived home. He took the elevator straight up, and Clint snorted when he met Tony's eyes.

"Children," Natasha scolded.

"What did you do?" Pepper said, frowning at Tony. He gave her an innocent look.

"Nothing!" he said. "And I'm hurt that you'd believe me capable of tricking Cap."

"_Tony_."

"You'll never guess who his soulmate is."

"Wade Wilson," Natasha said, spoiling the ending.

"Deadpool?" Pepper said. "You're kidding."

"God's own truth," Clint said, shuffling restlessly in his nest. "Told Steve that he was shy, and Cap actually believed us."

Pepper slapped Tony's arm. "That was really mean, and I can't believe you'd do that to one of the _nicest _people we know."

"They're coming," Natasha said, nodding towards the wide doorway that led from the lounge to the kitchen.

"Shh!" Tony hissed, and he and Clint dived behind the furniture. "If they don't know we're here, Cap can't give us that disappointed face."

"Or yell at us, which is just as bad," Clint added.

"Forgetting the super-hearing," Pepper muttered.

"Whoa!" Wade exclaimed from the kitchen. "Is that coffee-maker futuristic or _what_?"

"I have no idea how to operate it. Every time I think I've got the hang of it, Tony does something and then it's completely different."

"Ah. That'd explain the one you have on your floor."

"Uh-huh." There was silence for a few seconds, then Steve groaned. "Mind not bending over like that? I'm gettin' all kinds of inappropriate thoughts, Wade."

"Aw, but I don't know where you keep the leftovers."

"In the fridge, and honestly, we ate before we left your place."

"Yeah, but _someone_ here has super-metabolism."

"You _love_ my super-metabolism."

"Correction," Wade said. "I love your super-stamina, and mine, too. No wonder someone called the cops."

"Hey, at least we weren't being accused of trying to kill each other."

"Except through sex." Pepper's jaw dropped, and she noticed Natasha trying not to laugh. Tony and Clint were gaping at each other, eyes wide.

"Or drowning, if we set off the fire alarms in your apartment."

"Mmm." There was a creaking noise. "Damn, those naughty ideas getting the better of you, Captain Rogers?"

"Stop. Wiggling. Your ass."

"My hips, actually."

"It's not your hips I was staring at, though. Wondering whether you're still loose enough for me to just slide on in."

Pepper was sure she was as beet red as her nickname implied. Natasha's shoulders were shaking. There was a loud moan from the kitchen, slightly muffled, then the clatter of a cupboard door and rustled clothing. Wade swore softly, and something seemed to hit the kitchen floor. Steve groaned.

"Fuck, still so _tight_," he whispered, but it was loud enough for the four in the living room to hear. "Plug didn't do anything."

"Kept your semen in me. Thought that was the point? O-ooh, I _love_ your point, Steve."

Among Pepper's jumbled thoughts was 'That's so unhygienic' and 'I'll kill Tony and Clint for this', along with 'Damn, that's hot'. Judging by the fact that Natasha was no longer pretending to read, and was instead watching the door with a small smirk, she was probably thinking much the same things.

"Ah, _God_, Steve!"

"Wade, beautiful, so beautiful, all _mine_." Wade yelped, and Steve growled, sending shivers straight through Pepper.

It seemed to take forever before the creaking of the countertop – or wherever they… 'were' – came to a halt. There were soft murmurs, and Pepper sank down into the cushions with an embarrassed whimper. Eventually, Steve and Wade left, and Natasha rolled up her magazine and hit both Clint and Tony on the head with it.

"I hope you've learnt your lesson," she said.

"Hey, Pepper," Tony said casually, "wanna go up to my room?"

"If I _do_," Pepper said primly, "it won't be with you, Anthony Edward Stark."

"Pe-ep…"

"Don't give me that."

"He knew we were here anyway," Natasha said. "I'm not complaining. Never let it be said that Steve Rogers hasn't mastered the art of revenge through public sex. Well," she cocked her head, "semi-public. So far."

"He knew," Pepper said, staring into space, her cheeks still hot enough to fry eggs.

"They probably both did."

"Oh God," Clint said, covering his face. "I didn't know Steve would do something that evil in return."

"What did you think, Clint?" Natasha asked. "That he'd take it lying down?" Her lips twitched at the corners. "So to speak."

"Gah!" Tony said. "The mental images alone."

"How's it going with that brain bleach?" Clint asked, paler than usual. "I'll need some."

"I want a copy of the video footage from the kitchen," Natasha said.

"Me too," Pepper said. "And I'll have to break out my old toys, because, Tony? You're on the couch until further notice."

* * *

Back in Steve's quarters, he showed Wade the Jacuzzi. The sight of his soulmate stripping off and then leaping into the hot water had Steve pulling off his own clothes and following. Wade perched on the bench and tugged Steve into his lap.

"Thanks for the quickie in the kitchen," Wade said, kneading Steve's butt cheeks. "Best plan of revenge I've ever been involved in."

"We haven't even begun," Steve said, fingering himself. There was always the risk of his healing power kicking in to tighten him back up, and while that had its advantages – Wade had mentioned fisting to him, and Steve nearly came from the description alone – it was inconvenient when he wanted to be able to sink down on his soulmate and bond with him again. Wade was still self-conscious of the scars which littered his body, when Steve's own regenerative powers left him with flawless skin, but Steve instead took advantage of the sensitivity to drive Wade (more) insane through teasing the raised stripes of flesh.

"To think you were technically a virgin when we met two days ago," Wade said. As soon as Steve was in position, Wade yanked him down, and Steve wrapped himself around his soulmate when their soulmarks met and shone, strengthening the bond.

"Mmm." He licked a major scar on the side of Wade's neck, one of the attempts to behead him. Steve didn't know the whole story yet, because Wade had had a _long_ life, but there was time.

"Want me to talk dirty to you, oh captain, my captain?"

He should've commented on how inappropriate the quote was considering what they were engaging in, but then Wade hit that spot which made stars appear behind his eyes, and Steve stopped thinking altogether.

* * *

**Ship requested by Bullla, who also suggested that Clint and Tony convince Steve that Wade is shy before they meet. Hope this met with expectations. And it's canon that Deadpool's handwriting is gorgeous.**

**For those who haven't got the memo yet, I've started posting my headcanons about how the stories would continue. I've only posted the first instalment, which covers chapters one to ten of 'Fate Has a Twisted Sense of Humour'. Hope to see you there. :D**

**Please review!**


	108. Sentences (Blake x Fitz x Simmons)

"Sentences"

After scrambling together as many lost agents as he could, Coulson had formed a slightly stronger SHIELD. The scientists, administrators, and field agents had their own divisions, and part of his job was to make sure that any liaising between departments went smoothly. One of the ways was to ensure that those who disliked each other never had to meet, despite Coulson's admonitions that they should stop being so childish.

"The best way to go about it, sir," Jemma said. "Keep arguments to a minimum."

"Great," Coulson muttered. "Now if I could keep internal department bickering to a minimum, we'd be doing even better."

"You'll get there in the end, sir," Leo said, patting him on the shoulder. "In the meantime, you have us."

"We'll never abandon you, sir."

"We're here for life."

"As long as you need us."

"No retiring from science for us, Director Coulson."

"Thanks," he said, holding up his hands. "You must be delighted that you don't have to see Agent Blake."

"O-oh," Jemma stammered. "Because of the whole getting-rid-of-infected-cargo fiasco back before…? Oh, no, we're fine. Aren't we, Fitz?"

"As fine as we could be," Leo said through gritted teeth. "Considering what happened to Simmons—"

"Oh, Fitz—"

"It's probably just as well—"

"Don't be like that—"

"Because even though we're _not _field agents—"

"We can still kick arse," Jemma said, rubbing her arm where Leo had poked her. "Sir."

"Which is why I'm keeping the peace between divisions," Coulson said dryly. "Back to work, FitzSimmons."

"Yes, sir!" they chorused, and they returned to the lab, chattering the whole way.

* * *

Felix Blake had no particular beef with FitzSimmons; he'd never even met the duo. And he was unlikely to, since they were apparently avoiding him. He couldn't really blame them, after ordering Coulson to dump Simmons in the middle of the ocean. Hell, he thought it was pretty ballsy when she jumped in the end, and he admired the way they'd both bounced back from their ordeal at the hands of Grant Ward.

He'd missed most of the action thanks to Deathlok putting him out of commission, and was damn lucky that, being a senior agent, he was one of the first moved to safety when SHIELD fell and HYDRA attacked all known bases. After that, it was a matter of contacting Coulson. The guy was so freaking devoted to Captain America that there was no way he could be HYDRA, so it was a safe bet which paid off. Now Felix had his own office, was a senior administrator (again), and was still fighting the good fight. The only annoying thing was that regulations had been changed. Thanks a bunch, HYDRA.

"They're at it again," one of his underlings muttered.

"Hmm?" He glanced where the woman indicated, and noticed FitzSimmons working at a holotable and talking at top speed. "What are they doing?"

"It's one against two in a conversation with them," she replied, signing the pages he'd given her. "That's why they're called FitzSimmons. Here you go, sir."

"Thanks," he said, attaching the papers to his clipboard. Curious, he wandered nearer to the science division heads as they explained a technical point to a confused minion. It all went over Felix's head, but he noticed what was driving everyone else in the department to the point of distraction. It continued even after they were only talking to each other, about lunch of all things.

"There's nothing wrong with sandwiches," Simmons said, and Fitz shook his head.

"No point unless you're making them," he said.

"With a hint of pesto aioli, I know."

"We went to that Chinese place the other day."

"Yes, and if we go there too often they'll start to recognise us."

"If only there was a good, old-fashioned British pub around here."

"Oh, I know, Fitz."

"Even a simple ploughman's lunch—"

"Talk about nostalgia—"

"Can you imagine—"

"What would happen if we—"

"Started our own pub?" he finished.

"Yes," she said. "I suppose we could use it—"

"As a front for SHIELD—"

"And a safe place for meeting—"

"Good information repository, as well—"

"Plus the best sustenance for the field agents, because honestly, I'm convinced they don't feed themselves properly—"

"Though scientists are one to talk, can't be hypocrites, Simmons—"

"For the love of," Felix muttered to himself. The conversation made him dizzy, and he stalked forward while FitzSimmons discussed their pie in the sky plans for a SHIELD bar. They stopped talking as soon as they noticed, and no doubt recognised, him. "Will you _stop_ finishing each others' sentences? You're driving everyone nuts."

They gaped, and he found out why they were stunned.

"It's become a terrible habit, I'm afraid," Simmons said.

"But it's all your fault, when you think about it," Fitz added.

Felix took several seconds to process this. Then he said, "I need some damn coffee."

For some reason, FitzSimmons decided that it was a time for celebration, and took him to have Devonshire tea. He stuck with coffee, but they forced him to join them in having 'scones with jam and cream'. They looked like biscuits with jelly, but then he wasn't British, and apparently scones 'are completely different, Agent Blake, as you'll see'.

"I'll take your word for it," he said.

"Well, this explains why we prefer Alan Rickman to Tom Felton," Simmons said, and Felix nearly choked on his coffee. He set it down, and settled on cutting a scone in half, following Fitz's example in slathering 'jam' and cream on it.

"I beg your pardon?" he said. Fitz was humming as he munched on his Devonshire tea, leaving Simmons to reply.

"We were both born with our soulmarks," she said. "We compared notes on the kind of person we thought our third might be. I think we're both a bit torn. I mean, it's wonderful that you're a SHIELD agent, because you can take care of yourself, you know what's going on and everything. But on the other hand, you're senior to us."

"In another division, though," Fitz said. Simmons cocked her head.

"True," she said. "Which is really quite convenient—"

"Depending on regulations—"

"We should probably check those again—"

"And Director Coulson knows we were looking for our third—"

"Although we told Skye before we left, so he must know by now—"

"Which means a bigger bed," Fitz said, and he winked at Felix. "We hope."

"We won't rush you into anything," Simmons said.

"Good," Felix said faintly, and he downed a quarter of his remaining coffee. Damn, the cream was sweet. He was going to get toothache if he wasn't careful, and SHIELD didn't have many dentists they could trust.

"So," Simmons said. "I suppose we should talk through some things, get any issues we have off our chests—"

"Not out in the open," he said, interrupting her with both hands up. "This location isn't secure enough to discuss… work."

"Well," Fitz said, eyeing Felix up and down. "We'll have to find something else to talk about, then, won't we? Do you have any kinks we should know in advance, Agent Blake? So we have time to prepare, you understand."

"We're big on preparation," Simmons added. "Working for SHIELD and all."

"We're very good all _`round_," Fitz said, as if his blatant ogling wasn't suggestive enough.

Felix was going to have his hands full, assuming he even went through with what they were saying, which was unlikely. Half an hour with them and he needed an aspirin. How much worse would it be… that much babble in his _head_… if they bonded? He couldn't even let their chatter wash over him, because the SHIELD agent in him paid attention to every part of his surroundings, including the conversation, in case the most casual remark held huge implications. Especially with two such guileless children.

Children. Late twenties, but still much younger than him. So eager, fresh, naïve. They seemed too innocent for this work, and one day they would end up like him, if they even lived that long. Depressing thought.

"You don't have any issue with the fact that I'm a few decades older than you?" he asked bluntly. FitzSimmons looked at each other.

"You almost died when Mike was being controlled," Simmons said.

"I almost drowned thanks to Ward," Fitz said.

"I nearly died due to an alien virus."

"Then there was the whole HYDRA-in-SHIELD issue, which put us in _more _danger."

"Not to mention all the risky missions we've been on—"

"And you've been working for SHIELD most of our lives, which means you must've escaped death a couple of dozens times, at least—"

"And we've nearly taken ourselves out with inadvisable experiments—"

"So age doesn't really have much meaning," Fitz said. "That's what we're saying."

"Honestly, I don't see what the problem is," Simmons continued. "We could die any day. One of us could drop dead from an undisclosed heart problem or a brain aneurysm. There could be a random shooting at the shops. We could be hit by a drunk driver. There could be a train accident, a flash flood, a bolt of lightning."

"The sort of things civilians are at risk of all the time," Fitz added pointedly. "It doesn't make a difference to us. We take it one day at a time—"

"And hope that the rest of our lives together actually goes on for many years."

"I got my soulmarks when I was… never mind how old," Felix said. "It's been a long wait for me, and working for SHIELD wears you down pretty quickly."

"Yet you still work—" Simmons began, and Felix waved at her to stop.

"That's because it's all I know," he said. "No one else would accept me at this age, and the job market isn't exactly swimming with opportunity."

"But _we_ accept you, an' that's the most important thing, isn't it?" Fitz said. "Fate gave you to us… gave us to _you_ for a reason. We definitely don't need a father figure."

"Director Coulson fills that role," Simmons added.

"So please give us a chance, eh?" Fitz traced swirling patterns on the back of Felix's hand, clearly ignoring the irritated frown Felix was trying to give him.

It was weird. Most people would look at this situation and say that he should be the one begging his two young, gorgeous, intelligent soulmates to give _him_ a chance, not the other way around. Some would say that being with them would be an abuse of authority, though Coulson would probably be fairly lax about that, if nothing else because they needed as many agents as they could get. And when it came to soulmates, he could be a bit of a soft touch; came from being a Blank, would be Felix's guess. But then what did he know? He wasn't a doctor. Unlike his two soulmates.

FitzSimmons were giving him puppy dog eyes. That was so unfair.

"Don't do that," he said.

"Do what?" Simmons asked innocently. "We weren't doing anything."

"Those eyes. You're try to make me cave. Stop it. And don't ever go undercover. Your lying skills leave a lot to be desired."

"With all those prostitutes, as well," Fitz muttered. Felix glanced at him.

"There's a story there," he guessed, and Fitz sniggered while Simmons tossed her hair back over her shoulder and tried to look prim.

"Well, we discovered that Skye could never pass as Scottish," she said.

"We're getting off-track," Felix said.

"We didn't like the track we were on," she replied, the skin between her eyebrows wrinkling. "I suppose… if we showed you our soulmarks." She exchanged glances with Fitz, whose grin was unholy. Felix got the feeling he'd never been in charge of the conversation, despite being a senior agent.

"Considering their placements," Fitz said. "A better idea of the bonding position—"

"Could be enticing enough," she said. "Especially as we'd have to strip to show him."

Yep. Felix had lost any control he might've had.

* * *

**Ship requested by selmak, who adores Felix Blake. I've only written him twice, and I haven't written much FitzSimmons, so I wasn't sure how I'd manage it. Only a short chapter, I'm afraid. I think I'm better with twosomes than with threesomes.**

**Och well. I haven't posted much, I know; I'm a terrible person. I thought I'd get a lot more done during the holidays, but I've been tired, possibly coming down with a cold, and Mum and I have taken advantage of the break to go to the movies a couple of times. Most unproductive, in other words.**

**Uh… yeah. Please review!**


	109. Say a Prayer (Fitz x Victor Creed)

"Say a Prayer"

Leo Fitz wasn't a religious man; he never had been. He was a man of science, who'd had the notion of soulmates… well, the opposite of being drummed into his head. As soon as his semi-homophobic parents saw where his soulmark was placed, they decided that soulmateship should be discouraged in the household. Fitz decided that he liked boys fairly early on in his life, and his father left not long after that, reinforcing the idea that Fate's suggestions _were_ just that: suggestions. So he filled his life with science. It was exact, it was predictable, it was _solid_.

He needed that more than he needed a 'true love'. Someone would come along some day; he just needed to be patient, and choose for himself when he was ready.

In the meantime, there was SHIELD. Dear, dear sweet science and SHIELD. Jemma, Mack, Skye, Hunter, Coulson… They all needed him, or so they said. No mythical other half of his soul. And as long as he never met his soulmate – not that a few words on his skin meant anything, of course – then he wouldn't die anytime soon. Admittedly, when he thought he was going to die to save Jemma, or when HYDRA was attacking SHIELD, he'd had a couple of moments when he'd regretted not believing. Then he reminded himself that his soulmate hadn't been there to save him, which meant that soulmateship really was just a load of rubbish like his parents had taught him.

Fitz didn't believe in higher powers, and he sure as hell never prayed. Wouldn't want to tempt fate, eh? In fact, he'd pretty much forgotten his words. It's not like they were in the ideal place, barely visible even in the buff. So he sat, waiting for Hunter and Mike to return from a dead drop while Coulson watched through binoculars nearby. As far as he was aware, 'real' SHIELD still didn't know their location, and they were wearing glasses, so they were disguised.

…In hindsight, a pair of glasses wasn't the _best_ disguise in the world. He imagined it was supposed to be refuge in audacity. HYDRA wouldn't be expecting them to go out looking like themselves, right? On the other hand, HYDRA had been in SHIELD for decades. They'd know to be prepared for anything.

"Ridiculous," he muttered.

"Quiet on the comms, Fitz," Coulson said. Fitz suppressed a sigh, slumping forward, and covered his face with his hands. He rubbed his cheeks, his eyes, and then pressed his fists together as he stared ahead.

"Saying your prayers, boy?" he heard, before a hand went around his throat. A soft voice, a calloused palm, and an extremely sharp nail against his jugular vein.

"No," he said. Whose nails were that sharp? He felt warm breath on his neck, then ear.

"Then you'll definitely want to."

Fitz tried to turn his head. "Why's that?" he asked calmly, his mind racing. How could he get help?

…Idiot. The comm. unit.

"Because you work for SHIELD," he replied. At least Fitz was pretty sure it was male.

"Are you HYDRA, or is there some other… other…"

"Other what?"

"Um… uh, reason. Motive? To kill me?"

"Having trouble with your words, are you?"

Funny how the mind works; because that cleared Fitz's mind.

Words.

"It's you," he whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Soulmate."

The grip eased up, and Fitz turned his head. He met a pair of ice cold eyes examining him, prominent sideburns, and… were those fangs? No, just very long teeth for a human being, if this even was a human.

"You said 'No'," the man said.

"You asked if I was saying my prayers," Fitz said. He raised a hand and grabbed onto the man's arm. "Who are you?"

"Victor Creed. Also called Sabretooth."

"I'm Fitz. Leo Fitz, but… but people call me Fitz."

"Well." Creed lowered his lethal hand, and instead wrapped his arm around the front of Fitz's body. Coulson was swearing over the comms, but Fitz tuned it out easily, frozen in place. "Show me your words."

Fitz felt his cheeks flare up. "N-not in public. I'd be… uh…" He tried to find the word.

"Arrested?" Creed said.

"Yeah, that's it."

"Hmm." Creed looked him up and down again, a feral smile coming to his face. "I wouldn't want that. You'd better come with me."

"A-actually, my friends… my co-workers, they n-need me." Fitz tried to stand up, but Creed's powerful arm kept him in place. "Please let me go?"

"But how would I find you again?" Creed cooed. Actually cooed. Fitz blinked.

"You came here to kill me," he said.

"Not at first. Tort… I mean extract information out of you." My God, his teeth were longer than Fitz initially thought.

"So you won't kill me?" he clarified.

"My own soulmate? Not at all." In an instant, Creed had rounded the park bench and hauled Fitz to his feet. "But I'm taking you with me."

"No, I can't," Fitz said, even though he was clearly outmatched. "Please, C-Creed—"

"Victor to you, my sweet morsel," Creed said, another sharp nail trailing down Fitz's neck. He swallowed hard.

"SHIELD needs me, b-believe it or not. And… and soulmateship is rubbish."

Creed paused. "What?"

"M-my parents told me it was rubbish. Hell, when Dad walked out that was a pretty clear d-demonstration that they were right."

"Parents are wrong all the time," Creed said. Well, that was sure as hell true, considering Skye's nutcase of a father. "You smell so sweet, I just wanna eat you all up."

"Please don't," Fitz said weakly. Creed chuckled; it was a chilling sound.

"Not literally," he said. Fitz hissed when it felt like his skin was punctured, but he didn't feel any blood. "Hush, sweetness. I'd never hurt you."

"Fitz, we're coming," Coulson said softly.

"There's something big going on," Fitz said. "Big bad. HYDRA's involved. Are… are you with HYDRA? If you are, this ends here an' now, soulmate or no soulmate."

"I'm a mercenary," Creed said.

"You're a mercenary?"

"And my client wants information only SHIELD has," he continued. "Names. Places. Weaknesses."

"Another enemy?" Fitz muttered. "Just what we need. L-listen, uh, _Victor_, it's really a terrible time for us to meet—"

"Not if you need my help."

"…You'd help us?"

"Wait," Coulson said. He was talking to the others. Probably. Hopefully.

"Well, what if telling my client what you know ended with you getting hurt?" Creed said, switching his attention to the other side of Fitz's neck. "I can't risk that."

"Oh." Fitz blushed even more, and he listed towards his soulmate. "You haven't even seen my soulmark yet."

Creed bent close enough to inhale deeply, and Fitz's toes curled. "You're sweet enough for me to want you even if we're not soulmates, kitten."

"Kitten?!"

"Let me come with you, if you won't go with me," Creed said. He pulled Fitz up against his body with his free hand. "I'll fight your enemies for you. Won't let them anywhere near you, as long as I have my say."

"T-thank you," Fitz said, and he carefully placed his hands on Creed's chest. That… that was solid, diamond-hard muscle under that shirt. Goddamn. "Christ, you're…"

"Looking forward to seein' your soulmark," Creed murmured, and he nuzzled the flesh behind Fitz's ear, before nipping the fleshy lobe. "If it's where I think it is, I wanna be buried so deep inside you that you'll feel me forever, and not just `cause we'll bond."

"We w-will?"

Creed growled. "Now tell your buddies to back off, baby. You're safer with me than anyone else."

"Sir, it's fine," Fitz said in the direction of his top shirt button. "You can approach."

"Is he coming with us?" the director asked. Fitz shivered as Creed held him tightly, almost like a vice; he'd never felt so safe in all his life.

"Yeah," he said. "He'll be joining us." He smiled, and burrowed his nose in the V of Creed's shirt. "HYDRA doesn't stand a chance."

"Good to know," Hunter remarked.

While he waited for the others to arrive, Fitz turned his head to rest his ear against the skin over Creed's heart.

"What _are_ you?" he whispered. "You can't possibly be fully human."

"Heard of the X gene?"

"I'm an engineer, but I think I might've—"

"I'm a mutant."

"…Definitely heard of mutants. Professor something…"

"Xavier," Creed growled.

"Not a fan?" Fitz asked. He was hoping that Creed hadn't noticed his 'positive' reaction to the vibration of the growl echoing through his chest.

"You could say that."

"Well, you'll like Coulson," Fitz said. "Director Coulson. And Hunter and Mike. I hope you do, anyway. They're three of my best friends. Jemma and Ma… uh, Jemma is my first best friend, so I hope you'll like her, too. They're basically my family, SHIELD is. When it fell… I can't tell you how much it hurt."

"Did anyone hurt _you_?"

Fitz nodded, although it ended with him being pinned even tighter. Ah. So he wasn't the only one… reacting to the situation. "A traitor. A mole in our team. I nearly drowned. Simmons… Jemma, she saved my life."

"I like her already," Creed said, and Fitz chuckled. "And I owe her one."

"We saved each other, but she didn't let me die, so, uh…" He noticed the others approaching, and tried to pull back. "Let go. The others—"

"Can wait," he said. "I've waited all your life. My life, too, which started in the nineteenth century, so it's been a hell of a long time."

"Nineteenth…?"

"Not giving you my exact date of birth yet," Creed said, and he winked. Fitz grinned, and allowed his soulmate to hold him for another minute. When he was finally relinquished, he caught hold of Creed's hand and led him to the others.

"This is my soulmate, Victor Creed," he said.

"Thought you didn't believe in the idea of soulmates," Hunter said, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sure he can persuade me effectively," Fitz said, mentally kicking himself at the double entendre when the other men smirked. "Y' know what I mean!"

"He… does that a lot," Coulson said, and he held out his hand. Creed shook it. "Mr. Creed, it's great to meet you. Any soulmate of Fitz is an ally of ours. I hope." Creed nodded shortly, and Fitz continued the introductions. Then they stood awkwardly for about five seconds.

"Dead drop completed," Mike said, breaking the silence.

"Let's go back to the motel," Coulson said. "There's a lot more to do before we can return to base, or wherever we end up going."

"Sounds up in the air," Creed said, frowning. Fitz pressed against his side to soothe him.

"Uncertain times," he murmured. "We're lucky to have you on board."

"We're lucky to have Fitz," Coulson added, drawing Creed's attention. "He's one of our greatest assets. An actual rocket scientist, genius IQ…" He trailed off. "You're a lucky guy, Mr. Creed."

"You can call me Sabretooth," Creed said, and he displayed his teeth. Then he waved one of his sharp-tipped hands. Fitz wondered what those nails would feel like on his hips, and bit his bottom lip at the thought.

"Sabretooth," Coulson said. "Welcome aboard. Now, let's get going."

The other three went ahead, while Fitz and Creed trailed behind.

"We haven't even kissed yet," Creed said.

"I… I don't want to," Fitz said. "Not in public. That's… that's something between us, not the whole world."

"What d'you like in the bedroom?"

It only took a few seconds to work out what 'in the bedroom' meant, 'bed' being the emphasis here.

"I wouldn't know," he said. "But we're supposed to be compatible, so I suppose whatever you like."

Creed's eyes turned more yellow for a moment, but they snapped back to normal the next, so Fitz dismissed it as a trick of the light. Or the X gene.

"You'll _love_ what I like," he said. "I guarantee it."

"G-good," Fitz said, and he hoped his stiffie wasn't obvious. "I look forward to, uh…"

"I'm gonna pop your cherry so hard you won't sit for a week," Creed said roughly.

"Oh my God…" He wasn't religious, but… maybe there _was_ a higher power at work, because just the idea was delicious, and he didn't know why.

"Your soulmate," Creed corrected. "We're gonna have so much fun. You'll see."

"You'd… you'd better make good on your promise, when the time comes," Fitz said, trying (and likely failing) to sound stern. Creed chuckled, so he'd probably failed.

"If our writing matches, whatever I do to you will rock your world," he said.

Fitz hoped his legs wouldn't fail until they were sitting in the van, because it would be terribly embarrassing to fall over before they got there.

* * *

**I don't know how I came up with this twisted, twisted idea, and I DO plan to write Fitz/Logan at some point. But I love writing helpless!Fitz with strong, sinister soulmates. Must be a kink. Huh.**

**Please review!**


	110. Cupcake (Fitz x Logan)

"Cupcake"

"He's in there," Coulson said, pointing towards the only building in the area. Logan rolled his eyes.

"Figured as much," he said. "D'you always state the obvious, director?"

Coulson looked miffed. "I'm the director," he said. "I direct things. I direct people in the right direction. It's all there in the name."

Logan put his hands up. "Okay. What do you need me to do?"

"Skye is hacking the system," Coulson said, indicating the youngster. "She'll jump into the fray as soon as she can. May and Hunter are rescuing hostages and taking out any agents in the way. But Fitz's signal is coming from the other end of the building. Mack will make enough noise elsewhere to draw attention. They're smart enough not to leave Fitz alone, but the number of guards should be depleted by the time you get there. Skye will lower any technical security around him. Take out anyone between you and Fitz. Then get him out of there."

"Roger that," Logan said. He was tempted to give a sarcastic salute, but repressed the urge. Now wasn't the time. Much as he hated SHIELD on principle, Charles had asked him to do this, in case they could help Logan with his memory. And also because Professor X respected Coulson, some incident Charles refused to speak about.

"Go now!" Skye called. Logan burst out of the bushes and ran towards the building. The door swung open before he got there, but Skye reassured him over the comm. unit that it was electronically controlled, and she'd opened it herself. He paused to wait for directions, and Skye led him through the facility, sounds at a distance coming from the SHIELD agents. Every so often he'd pause and sniff, since technology wasn't infallible and he preferred to follow his own instincts. Eventually he got to a room which was being guarded, although the security team was paying less attention to him and more to the instructions being shouted over their walkie-talkies.

Perfect time to catch them unawares. Considering that Agent Skye was supposed to shake the building down once it was empty, it was better to get in and out. By the sounds of it, Hunter and May were nearly done releasing the prisoners, so he had to hurry. It was the easiest thing in the world to walk up behind the so-called guards, slit their throats, then walk into the room which was again accessible by an electronic door. There were two guys in the room, and a curly-haired boy, blindfolded and gagged and strapped to a chair. The two men raised their guns, but Logan was faster, striking out with claws when they moved in, accepting a couple of gunshot wounds which would heal soon enough.

"Hello, cupcake," he said to Fitz, or at least he hoped it was the agent. Hard to tell with the fabric nearly covering his face. "Don't worry. I'll help you. Just give me…" He kicked one of the guards, breaking a few of the guy's ribs, nearly sliced the other one's head clean off, then knocked out the other with a steel punch. "A second."

He noticed the captive stiffen as he approached, and rounded the back of the chair. With one claw he sliced the rope, then he moved back around the front and dealt with the leg bindings while Fitz – had to be him – yanked off the gag and blindfold. Well, he sure looked like the attractive blond engineer from the photographs, although the stubble was thicker. Logan rose from the floor, smug when Fitz's eyes devoured him. He held out a hand to help the scientist stand up.

"You're nothing like I imagined," Fitz said. Logan hesitated, mind racing as he registered this unexpected scenario.

"Good thing or bad?" he asked.

"Definitely good. I didn't think that anyone who called me 'cupcake' would be able to, uh…" His cheeks turned pink as he looked Logan up and down, and then met his eyes.

"Scratch your itch?" Logan said.

"Exactly," Fitz said. "My tastes…"

"I can guess what your tastes are," he said, and he pulled Fitz up from the seat and against his body. "Lookin' forward to explorin' them with you."

"What are you guys doing?" Skye yelled over the headset, and Logan winced. "Get the hell out before I demolish this place!"

"C'mon," Logan said, and he led his soulmate through the building, back out the way he'd come, and gave Skye a thumbs-up when they were clear. They kept running until they reached cover with the other agents. Logan was determined to protect his soulmate, and that included keeping him away from destruction. Then again, Fitz was a SHIELD agent, an engineer at that. He wasn't in the right job to stay away from danger.

"Thank you for finding me," Fitz said. Logan smiled wryly.

"The others found out where you were," he said. "I was a last minute ring-in, I guess you could say. A friend sent me here—"

"Not what I was referring to," the scientist murmured, and he snaked a hand around the back of Logan's neck. "Though I owe you for that as well."

Logan wasn't sure what to say, painfully aware that they were being watched. He slid his hands to Fitz's waist, and waited for his soulmate to make the next move.

"You're perfect," Fitz said, his fingers moving through Logan's tufted hair. "We should probably check our soulmarks first, make sure they—"

"They will," Logan said. He was damn sure of it, every instinct of his telling him it was true. He didn't follow his nose or Skye's instructions in that facility; he'd followed something else, something much deeper. It knew where to find his soulmate before they'd even met. He'd have to thank Charles later. Hell, the professor might've even known. Maybe Coulson did, too.

Coulson. Shit.

"Will you let me kiss you?" Fitz asked. So innocent. And Logan had seen so many horrors that Fitz… could probably comprehend, come to think of it.

"Nothin' I want more," Logan said, and that was the truth. "But if we start that, I won't want to stop, and I think we should spare the others from that, don't you?"

Fitz's eyes goggled as he looked around, cheeks darkening to red. "Uh… yes."

"Mission debrief back on base," Coulson said. "Now."

* * *

Logan had a choice to make. Either skulk back to the school and leave Fitz behind, take Fitz back to the school with him, or stay here with Fitz. He sure as hell wasn't abandoning his soulmate, not even if the future of the world depended on it. Fitz wasn't a mutant, so he probably wouldn't fit in at the school, not for long. Logan would've preferred to take Fitz away from all of this, but that wasn't practical. They both had enemies, and the thought of that Ward guy coming after Fitz made Logan mad as hell.

"You're tense," Fitz said when the bunk door was closed behind them.

"Thinkin'," Logan said.

"About what happens now?"

"Yeah."

"You're… you're not going to leave me, are you? I know I'm just—"

"Stop right there," Logan said. Even though they weren't bonded yet, he could already tell what his soulmate was feeling, what he was planning to say, and it was bullshit. "If you're my soulmate, and I can _tell_ that you are, then you're everything I need and want. Anyone else wouldn't do it for me the way you can. I'd be crazy to give you up, y'hear? So don't go thinkin' you know how I feel until we're bonded."

"L-Logan…"

"Yeah, bub?" He pulled Fitz closer. "Wanna take that kiss you were askin' me for?"

"Uh-huh," Fitz said faintly, nodding.

"Then go ahead."

Fitz still seemed unsure, so Logan made it easier. He bent his head and waited, and soon after Fitz cupped his cheek and placed the softest kiss on his lips. Logan wanted to move in for the kill, but he let Fitz explore first, parted his lips when Fitz nudged them with his tongue, and let the kid have control for a minute. Then, when the moment was right, Logan grabbed him by the hips, spun them around, and pressed Fitz up against the door, grinding hard against him. Fitz swore fiercely, and Logan swallowed any more sounds as he ripped his own shirt off, then reached for Fitz's.

"Don't," Fitz said, grabbing his hands. "Haven't got that many."

"Fine," Logan grumbled. `Sides, watching Fitz strip out of his button-up was hotter than Logan expected. He was happy to stay where he was, aware of every brush of Fitz's hands against his torso, until the shirt was off. Fitz's hands hesitated at his belt.

"Soulmarks first?" he said. Logan backed off a step.

"Sure," he said, whipping off his belt and getting out of his shoes. "Where's yours?"

"Here," Fitz said shyly, stepping out of his pants and cocking his right leg open. The words were there, and Logan understood why some people said it was unnerving when they saw their soulmate's mark for the first time. It was weird seeing his handwriting on someone else's skin with no memory of putting it there. And damned if he didn't hate amnesia. It was like someone had forged his signature, but it was Fate who committed the forgery, which meant that it was supposed to be alright.

He ran possible scenarios through his mind as he absently unzipped his jeans, trying to work out how they would have to be positioned to bond, based on the placement of their marks. When he realised the best way, his grinned. Fitz gulped, his eyes darkening.

"Holy hell," he said. "Where's yours?"

In one swift movement, Logan stripped out of his remaining clothes and stood before his soulmate buck naked. Fitz slowly dragged his eyes away from Logan's erection to the outside of his right thigh, where 'You're nothing like I imagined' was written there in a doctor's untidy scrawl. He obviously came to the same conclusion much quicker, and pounced on Logan. He caught Fitz easily, and carried him the short distance to the bed.

"Hope this room's soundproof," he muttered, pulling off the rest of Fitz's clothing.

"Supplies…" Fitz said even as Logan climbed on and settled over him.

"You didn't think we were going all the way the first time?" Logan said.

"Uh…"

"We need time to prepare," Logan said. "It's the soulmate pull wanting us to get skin-to-skin. Doesn't mean we need sex. Doesn't mean we need to bond, either, and that's something we definitely have to talk about. But damn, I wanna claim you. Leave bite marks all over your neck so no matter what, everyone can see that you're mine. I wanna take you so much, over every flat surface. Wanna leave finger-shaped bruises on your thighs so that whenever we're apart, you can touch `em and think of me."

"I'd think of you anyway," Fitz said, voice and hand gentle as he stroked Logan's cheeks.

"Bet you're delicious."

"Why don't you try me out? See for yourself?"

Logan licked up the side of Fitz's neck, and chuckled at the moan that elicited.

"Tasty," Logan said.

"Hope your bark is worse than your bite," Fitz said. Logan tilted his head, smirking.

"That _really_ what you want?" he asked. "Or d'you want me to bite an' scratch, mark you up real good, while you mewl away like a contented pussycat?"

"Oh God," Fitz whispered, his eyes widening.

"You said you didn't want someone who called you 'cupcake' and meant it. I'm not the type to do that, so you're in luck. If you want rough, just wanna take it, then I'm your man. I'll do whatever you want me to, Fitz. `Cause you're my soulmate, an' I take care of what's mine. I'd kill for you. Already have, f'you count the mission. I'd die for you."

"No, don't do that," Fitz said quickly, tugging Logan down by the back of his neck. "I don't want to lose you."

"I was shot a few times today, rescuing you," Logan said, indicating the places on his torso where the scars were gradually disappearing. "My mutation is rapid healing."

"Oh." Fitz traced his muscles. "Right."

"I've been alive… for a long time," Logan said. "Death doesn't stick all that well. Thought maybe I wouldn't get a soulmate `cause I'd outlive `em. Then I got you…" He leaned down and nuzzled Fitz's ear. "I'm gonna look after you as long as I live."

Fitz tilted his head, and Logan met him halfway. He'd actually forgotten they were nude until Fitz arched up, their chests brushing together, and he raised his head.

"Let's take a second," he said.

"For what?" Fitz asked, lines forming between his eyebrows.

"We have to talk first—"

"We've _been_ talking, Logan."

"Fitz—"

"I want to bond with you," he said. "Please. This isn't just… physical. We're soulmates. If you want me, why won't you bond with me?"

"We don't know what the future will bring."

"So we should make choices while we can," Fitz said. "Logan? Please."

Fitz looked like he really thought Logan would reject him. Well, there was no way he could do that now, if he even could've before.

"Okay," he murmured. "We're doing this."

He'd talk to Coulson about a job in the morning.

* * *

**This pairing first appeared in the Hunter/Wade chapter 'You're Kidding Me', and there were so many requests for more Fitz/Logan that I decided why the hell not? So I wrote this, and I hope you enjoyed it.**

**Alright. Tech update. I'll probably have to buy a new laptop since it seems the old one's hard drive is failing. Which means Windows 8.1 so I can downgrade to Windows 7. Ugh. In the meantime, I'm writing stuff on my old laptop – which I kept for emergencies – and it's almost like having to use a typewriter. The keyboard isn't as wide, which means it doesn't have the number pad, stuff's in different places, and I'm getting used to Windows XP again. Yes. I probably bought literally the last Windows XP laptop in Brisbane eight years ago. Gets quite hot in places, but at least I can write much faster, even though I have to press the keys harder. Ah well. So if chapters take a bit longer to come out, it's because I'm having to transfer them from laptop to USB to my mother's computer.**

**Uh… yeah. Please review!**


	111. Our World (Andrew x Jemma x May)

**Note: Are we still warning for 'Agents of SHIELD' season 2? Anyway, I can't remember whether or not Simmons and Andrew met; let's say they didn't.**

"Our World"

"Remember," May said. "No interrupting us unless—"

"Unless the world's about to end or Ward shows up, whichever comes first," Phil said. "I know. You've told me six times today alone."

May slung her bag back over her shoulder, and Phil noticed her affectionate glance at Andrew, who was waiting by the car.

"Have fun," he added. "Use protection."

She looked like she wanted to punch him on the shoulder, but she restrained herself, and instead gave him a one-armed hug.

"Thanks," she said.

"Have a nice holiday. We'll be—"

"Don't jinx it," she warned him.

"We'll miss you."

She nodded, and hurried to Andrew's side. She only looked back once, to where the ship was docked, and Phil wondered whether she'd miss them in return.

As soon as he and Mack set foot back on deck, Fitz came racing out to them, and nearly bowled Mack over.

"What's up, Turbo?" Mack asked.

"Jemma," Fitz said. "We were supposed to have dinner together. I went to find her, only she wasn't there, but her phone was. So I checked the footage, and… and…"

"What, Fitz?" Phil prompted. The engineer looked shattered.

"I was trying to be casual, and I leaned against it, only whatever I did must've unlocked it, because after I left—"

"Unlocked what?" Mack said, though Phil could tell he was thinking the same thing.

"The b-box," Fitz whispered. "It opened, and the rock swallowed her up. Skye's watching on the cameras, but Jemma hasn't reappeared yet. We want to open it up again, but you told us not to, and the same thing could happen to any of us. I mean, maybe if there was a rope, or if we could throw in a phone… Lincoln said it's dangerous to people like him and Skye, so why would it take Jemma?"

"Fitz, breathe," Mack said, grabbing Fitz by the shoulders. Phil looked back to the shore, but May and Andrew would be gone by now. This didn't involve Ward, and it wasn't world-ending, as far as he knew. No. He couldn't do that, ruin May's vacation with her soulmate. Not for something they could probably solve before she even returned.

"Fitz, do you know anything about Simmons's soulmate?" he asked.

"She h-has two soulmarks, but she's never met either of them," Fitz said. "She would've told me if she had."

"I'll check her file," Phil said. "In case…"

"In case what?"

"I'll handle this," Mack murmured. Phil nodded, and left them to it.

Simmons's file said she hadn't found her soulmates yet. Then… there was hope! She'd never met her soulmates, which meant that unless they were also in the rock, there was a chance the team could get her out, or that she could escape on her own.

That was a relief. He knew there was a soulmate question on the lie detector test, so he'd check with whichever Agent Koenig interviewed her, on the off-chance she'd wiped it from her record when HYDRA-gate happened. But he was sure she'd be fine. They'd get her back, come hell or high water. She was one of Phil's people, and he wasn't letting her go without a fight.

"Simmons?" Agent Koenig (one of them) said. "Oh, sure. When she answered 'no' I gave her a stern look, and she admitted that she had two soulmates, and had met one of them, but they agreed it was better not to mention it. She was fourteen at the time."

"So she's only met one of her soulmates, not the other?" Phil said.

"Not to my knowledge, sir. And another thing."

"There's more?"

"The one she met is or was a SHIELD agent."

Possibly HYDRA, then. "Do we know who?"

"No, sir."

"Okay. Thanks for letting me know."

An agent of SHIELD? He hoped that whoever it was, if ever he found them, they would turn out to be on SHIELD's side, not HYDRA's.

* * *

Even before leaving the base, Melinda May had felt strange, like something was off. She hadn't taken a holiday in a long time, and tried to attribute it to that. Paranoia was such a big part of her life that she'd be jumping at shadows if she wasn't careful. The time with Andrew would be good for her, for both of them. Being apart from her soulmate for so long had hurt at first, and then gotten numb.

One of her soulmates, that is. She'd never bonded with Simmons, figuratively or literally, so it didn't hurt when they were separated. Maybe she should've told Andrew, not just assumed that he and Simmons had worked it out and done nothing. He would've told her off for not informing him as soon as she met their third. But Simmons was a teenager at the time, a student at the academy, and May was a middle level field agent. They didn't have anything to do with one another again, not until Phil put the team together. By then, Simmons was part of FitzSimmons, Bahrain had happened, and bonding even as friends wasn't on the cards for either of them.

So she hadn't said anything to Andrew.

"You don't seem with it," he said, cuddling her from behind as she stared out the window of their beach shack. "Missing work already?"

"Thinking about our third," she said. "Whether things would've gone differently…"

He paused. "You know who it is?" he asked softly. She nodded. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was thirteen years ago. She was barely into her teens. At the academy."

"Which one?"

She turned her head slightly. "Simmons. Jemma Simmons is our third."

"And you didn't think you should tell me," he said.

"I thought you'd talked to everyone on the team, and just didn't say anything."

"Melinda…"

May sighed. "What's done is done. When we get back to SHIELD we can talk to her then. When I saw her after all those years I still thought of her as the nerdy little kid with a genius IQ and absolutely no social skills. Then after her cover was blown at HYDRA, and she came back with Morse, she wasn't that kid any longer. But it was never a good time to broach the subject with her. Then I saw you again." She pulled his arms closer around her, relieved that he allowed it. "It's been… confusing for me. You really haven't met her yet?"

"No."

"Then I look forward to introducing you." She chuckled. "You're just her type."

"She must love kick-ass women, too," Andrew said, and he kissed her shoulder.

"Considering the way she drools over Bobbi Morse, that's definitely possible."

"That's why you're listless?" he said. "You miss her?"

"Something… doesn't feel right."

"Because we're on a dirty vacation without her."

May elbowed him gently. "She and Fitz… there's something there. On his side, and maybe hers now. I can't tell. It's frustrating."

Andrew pulled her back towards the bed. "Let me take your mind off it. We can talk about Simmons later."

* * *

Phil rubbed his face. He was so tired, and they'd only been at it for four days.

"We'll get her outta there, sir," Mack said. He couldn't hide the hopelessness in his voice, though, and Phil knew part of the reason.

"You should've made a move while she was undercover," he said.

"Wasn't all that long before she got back."

"But he's your soulmate."

He watched through the gaps between his fingers as Mack shrugged.

"Doesn't matter, sir," he said. "What's important is getting Simmons out so she and Fitz can make that date."

"You love him, don't you?" Phil said.

"And you loved the cellist."

"Well… we weren't soulmates."

Mack raised his eyebrows, but he didn't ask the obvious question, thank God.

"Maybe you should tell Agent May about Simmons," he said. "I'm sure she'd wanna know. Imagine if she found out that you'd kept it from her—"

"She gave me instructions. I know we'd hoped to have Simmons safe and out of there by now, but there's no sense in disturbing May unless she can help us."

But Mack was right. Of course he was. Phil gave in, sent May a text message to let her know, just in case she checked her phone. Within half an hour he got a reply.

'On our way back.'

* * *

Andrew watched Melinda. A twitch of her fingers, a tap of her foot in the air, both indications that she was fidgeting. It was simultaneously amusing and worrying. He worried about Jemma Simmons as well, the third he'd never met. She had to be alright; they'd never spoken to each other, which meant that she had to come out of that rock sooner or later. Hopefully hewouldn't end up in there with her.

"If I'd known you were her soulmates I would've informed you immediately," Phil said, tapping his fingers against the surface of the desk. "You should have told me. _She_ should've told me. I'm supposed to be the secret-keeper around here, damn it. But at least Andrew hasn't met her yet. That gives me hope."

"We'll get her back," Melinda said firmly. "Take me to the box."

"May—"

"Not Andrew. We need him as security." Andrew snickered at being referred to as 'security', and Melinda shot him a look. "You know what I mean. Maybe I _can_ help. I know that most of the folklore about soulmateship is wrong, but…"

"There might be a grain of truth among it," Andrew finished. "It's worth a try. And your 'security' will stay far away unless you need him."

Melinda's face softened marginally. "Always."

"So this is as important as Ward showing up, or the end of the world?" Phil said.

Andrew answered this time. "She'll be our world."

* * *

Jemma didn't know how much time had passed. It felt interminable. Periods of being frozen into place, then her mouth and ears and everything being filled with black, rocky liquid, which just hardened again and kept her still. It was a horrible violation, and she wondered how long it would be before she was filled entirely, until there was more stone than blood in her body. Was this what it was like to be cryogenically frozen? At least that was water, not this mysterious substance.

Perhaps the worst was that she kept her mind, or at least she imagined so. Had she actually lost it? That was the only possible explanation for the voices she heard. Some sort of snapping noise would precede other sounds. At first it was beeps, but now… now it was as though _Agent May_ was out there, talking to her. Then the rock would form once more, and the words would disappear.

Words… of course she would hallucinate her soulmate speaking to her. Who else?

"…come to us… here… please, Jemma…"

Well, that couldn't possibly be May. She would never use Jemma's first name.

"…waiting… get out of… Andrew… meet him…"

Jemma fought against the fluid when she could, but then she would drown. At least Fitz had been unconscious while she dragged him to safety.

Oh, she never should have encouraged his feelings by arranging a date with him when they weren't soulmates. Fate must have been punishing her.

But surely fate wouldn't let her die before she could meet her other soulmate?

Jemma was trapped in place, trying to follow the voices. If it was her way out… she might have been going in circles all this time, and only needed a homing beacon!

"…right here, Jemma… to reach in… hold onto… back off, Phil!"

She nearly startled back. The director was there? Where they still on the ship? They must have been.

As soon as she could move again, she pushed herself away from the only hard surface she could feel, reaching out desperately. Her fingers brushed against something, but she was pulled back by the waves again, as if the rock didn't want to let her go. The next time she was able to move, she threw herself into it, finally catching hold of something. It was warm, gave slightly under her touch, and her arms were nearly wrenched from her sockets as she was pulled from the rock's vacuum.

Jemma fell onto a solid floor, coughing, even though there was nothing for her to vomit up. Trembling, she gazed over her shoulder, and saw the black liquid beating against the glass door, but not escaping it. She flinched, half-expecting it to seep out and capture her again. However, the door held. There were noises from above her, and she saw a system of rope pulleys. The closest to her held Agent May and her ex-husband, quickly lowering themselves. They must have been the ones to pull her to safety, although she couldn't imagine why.

Unless… they were _both_ her soulmates?

"We've got you now," he said, going to his knees beside her, May on her other side.

"Really?" Jemma whispered. Those were her words. She looked at May, who nodded at her, smiling. "Oh, thank God."

Andrew pulled her close, and May wrapped herself around Jemma from behind. She sobbed into Andrew's shoulder, relieved that it was all over, terrified of what the rock might have done to her, resigned that she had new nightmare fodder.

Worried that he wouldn't want her, either.

"You're our girl, Jemma," May whispered. "If you ever want us, we'll be there."

"T-thank you."

* * *

Mack looked over at Fitz while they dismantled some of the pulleys. They'd left one behind the glass box, so further studying could be conducted from a safe height. The new locks he'd added gave extra protection, and there was a yellow line around the case which no one could pass. With Hunter's help, they'd built another way in, and barred the orange door from being opened, in case another victim was swept up. They couldn't rely on soulmateship to cure every ill, no matter how 'magical' it was supposed to be.

Mack didn't see anything magical about it.

Then again, his soulmate was obsessed with… had feelings for someone else. Mack did everything he could to help Fitz, felt guilty as hell when he saw the look of betrayal and terror the day Gonzales's SHIELD stormed the old base. At least it was sort of forgiven, especially after he saved Coulson's life. While Mack could never completely trust him, Fitz did, and Mack had to accept that. Being away from him hurt like a bitch, and they hadn't even bonded. No matter how much he wanted…

But it wouldn't happen. Not unless Simmons got together with her soulmates and Fitz got over her.

In the meantime, Mack distracted himself with Bobbi and Hunter. They kept dancing around each other, like they always had. Their first meeting, and their words on each other, had stained the relationship from the start. 'Get out of here!' was on Bobbi, and 'You first, asshole,' was on Hunter. Sure, they'd been under fire at the time, and they were both too damn stubborn to back down from an argument. No wonder their relationship went the way that it did.

Then there was Coulson, and the mystery of who his soulmate was. Mack wanted to ask, but ultimately it didn't make a difference to him. Hell, if whoever it was took Coulson away and someone else took over as director, things might get better.

Then again, they could get worse. Better the enemy you know, right? At least Mack was in charge of alien artefacts. He didn't want another incident like the one which happened to Simmons, no matter how much he wanted her to go away so he could get some more time with Fitz. And Fitz kept blaming himself, which meant even more distraction. He just wanted to shake his soulmate by the shoulders and…

Not the time. He'd wait and see how it went.

"I'm going to lose her, aren't I?" Fitz said, loping into the room with a dejected air.

"Who, Simmons?" he asked. Stupid question, but Fitz didn't notice. As usual.

"Yeah." Fitz sank onto a bench, not even looking up at Mack. "She'll go with her soulmates. We never even got our chance. Just as I thought we…" His hands were jumping, and Mack wished he could help, but it wouldn't be welcome. "We were headed somewhere. That won't happen now."

"I'm here for you, man," Mack said. "You know that, right? What else are friends for?"

"I almost think it'd be easier if I… you know…"

"No idea."

"Met my… my soulmate."

"…What?"

"My—"

"Say that again."

Fitz scowled at him, but Mack didn't care. His whole world had suddenly been shaken.

"If I met my soulmate," Fitz said through clenched teeth.

"You…"

"Haven't met them. I thought it was Simmons at first, because she said 'Hey', but then I saw her writing, and I didn't say her words anyhow. So many people have said 'Hey' to me over the years, but no one's ever—"

"Shit."

"What?"

"Fitz, your first words to me were 'Nice to meet you'."

"And? Well, you've got a good memory. I barely remember… not that… it's just that I was going through a bit of a… a bad patch at the time."

"Understatement," Mack said. "You ever seen my handwriting?"

"I don't think so. We mostly type. You might've written some, uh, n-numbers, but… wait… Ah, hell. Are you…?"

Mack undid the lower buttons on his shirt, then pulled up his undershirt.

"I've seen enough of your writing," he said dryly.

"Oh, Christ! Why didn't you say?"

"You were stuck on Simmons, and you never mentioned anything, either."

"I didn't know! Didn't I just say how many people have said 'Hey' to me?"

Mack leaned back against his workbench as he buttoned up his shirt again. He didn't know whether or not to feel relieved. At least Fitz hadn't rejected him on purpose. But what if this changed things?

"Sorry, Turbo," he said.

"Nah, I'm sorry, Mack," Fitz said. "My fault."

"It isn't."

"Yeah, but you've had to listen to everything, and you must've thought…"

"I did, but I should've said something anyway. Coulson told me I should've made a move, and of course I wrote you on my form. It was automatically linked to yours, but you probably haven't looked at it since then."

"I've mucked this up, haven't I?" Fitz said, wilting. Mack sat beside him with a sigh.

"I'll always be here for you," he said. "I would've been even if we weren't soulmates, but you're extra special to me `cause of those words."

Fitz snorted in laughter. "All that wasted time. I knew you were special to me, but I thought that was because you treated me like I never changed."

"I didn't know you before," Mack pointed out, but Fitz waved that away.

"You were… you _are_ special, Mack, but that's because…"

"Of some mythical 'pull' soulmates are supposed to feel. You're in love with Simmons, remember?"

"And I remember all that time you spent caring for me," Fitz said. "No one else has ever meant so much—"

"Stop!" Mack said, gripping his knees. He couldn't touch his soulmate, or he'd be tempted to… do something, he didn't know what. "It's… you don't have to do this. It's just me, Turbo. Your friend."

"You won't give me the chance to make it up to you?" he asked in a small voice. Mack wanted to hug him, but he kept his hands to himself.

"It was nothing, man," he said. "You're my friend, that's all."

He got to his feet and strode back to the workbench, then distracted himself with his latest project until he felt safe to turn around. At some point Fitz had left. Just as well, since Mack couldn't even remember what he was working on. He dropped his tools and ran his hands over his head, probably smearing oil or metal dust over the skin. It reminded him of why he shaved all his hair off.

"That's all," he murmured. "Just friends."

* * *

At first it was hard to drag much out of Jemma. She told them everything she could about her experience inside the rock. Unfortunately, until she displayed out-of-character behaviour, they couldn't say what function the rock served other than a trap. If it was only dangerous to people like Lincoln and Skye, then maybe it was supposed to kill them, and didn't know what to do with Jemma?

But that wasn't what Andrew wanted to talk about anymore. It became clear that she was uncomfortable discussing the matter after she'd given a full debriefing. She monitored herself overnight, and Andrew distracted her with questions. Melinda sat on the other side of the bed, just holding Jemma's hand and staying quiet. After knocking down a few walls, the bio-scientist opened up and chattered about her family, her life in England, her (few) interests outside of science. Andrew wished that he watched 'Dr. Who', because then he'd understand her references.

"…cupcakes for Coulson, and I'm pretty sure that's why he chose us for the team," she said, winding down her hour-long narrative.

"Not your scientific skills?" Andrew said, and Melinda winked at him.

"I'll have you know that Fitz and I worked on that recipe for a long time," Jemma said indignantly. "We were the smartest at the _academy_, not necessarily at SHIELD. He could have had anyone he wanted, but he chose us."

"Because you were the only ones who bribed him with baked goodies."

"Absolutely."

He leaned forward, glancing at Melinda. "About Fitz… what's going on there?"

"Oh… well, nothing as yet. I wasn't anticipating… _any_ of this. I was only fourteen when I met M… Agent May, far too young to know what to expect. I'm still not entirely certain. I only met you a handful of hours ago, and I don't know how Fitz feels. He still hasn't met his soulmate. If he has, he would have told me."

"He said the same thing about you," Melinda said. Jemma caught her bottom lip between her teeth, and sighed out through her nose.

"I have two marks, so technically I'd only met _one_ soulmate, not the other," she said.

"I don't think he sees it like that," Andrew said.

"He knows?" Melinda nodded. "Oh dear. How did he take it?"

"Okay, in front of us," he said. "Somehow I think it'll be awhile before he's ready for another therapy session with me."

"Or share lab space with me," Jemma said, slumping against the pillows. "I never thought anything would come of it, and while I knew you two were married, many people these days marry someone who _isn't_ their soulmate."

"I'm sorry you were trapped for so long," Melinda said. "If we'd put each other on file, the director would've called me back as soon as Fitz told him what happened."

"We're not making that mistake again," Andrew said. "Even if you just want a platonic relationship with us, we'll be there for you, okay?"

"…Will you give me time to think about it?" she asked. "You're both terribly attractive people, and I've admired Agent May for so long, but… it's Fitz. I never gave him a chance, and I thought we were… well. I'll have to talk to him sooner or later."

"Later," he said. "Get some sleep. We'll be right here."

* * *

"I'm just impressed you followed the signals, let alone found them," Sam said, supporting Bucky on one side while Steve helped him on the other.

"And I'm impressed a guy called Ant-Man beat you up," Steve snarked back.

"Okay, okay. No teasing each other. I get it."

"Bucky needs help, and Fury said we could trust New SHIELD."

"'M right here," Bucky muttered, leaning more of his weight on Steve. "Leave him alone. He's my soulmate."

"That's right, buddy," Sam said, rubbing Bucky's back. "Did you call ahead, Cap?"

"Couldn't," he replied. "There was no number. I'm lucky we even found this place."

They looked out across the water, and Steve assessed the situation.

"We're gonna need a bigger boat," Sam quipped. Steve gave him a questioning look. "You haven't seen _Jaws_ yet, have you?"

"Wasn't that the tall, toothy guy in _Moonraker_?"

"Of course you've seen James Bond. Why am I even surprised?" Bucky sniggered, and leaned into Sam's side. "Any boat will do."

"You look after your soulmate," Steve said, handing Bucky over to Sam. "I'll go wrangle us a rig."

"That what they're calling it nowadays?" Sam said. Steve shot him the bird over his shoulder, and he laughed. "Hold on, Bucky. We'll get you help as soon as we can."

"I'm glad _you_ found me," Bucky said, slinging an arm around Sam's front.

"Me, too."

They were soon zipping out across the water, and then waited for someone to confront them. When no one did, Steve grabbed a rope, then climbed up the side of the ship.

"Show-off," Bucky and Sam said, and then they grinned at each other. Soon, the end of the rope fell down to the boat. Sam insisted that Bucky go first, reluctant to leave him alone (and it was a very nice view from below). When they reached the top there still didn't look to be anyone around.

"If they're SHIELD, they'll be hidden," Steve said, shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand as he looked around. "Where's Fury when you need him?"

"State your business."

They turned as one, and a young man with light hair was watching them, some kind of lightning streaking between one hand and another.

"Do we call you Mini-Thor?" Sam asked.

"State your business."

"I'm Steve Rogers," Steve said. "This is Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes." He gestured to them. "We're here to see SHIELD? I guess? Bucky's hurt—"

"Hang on," Mini-Thor said. The lightning flashes disappeared from one hand, and he pulled out a comm. unit. He spoke quietly, and then looked them up and down. He put it away, and then waved them forward. "I'll be right behind you. No sudden movements. You're surrounded by agents."

"I've got enhanced senses," Steve said back over his shoulder. "I know exactly how many people there are around us, and we could take them easily."

"Powered people?"

"Got experience with those, too."

"Don't antagonise Mini-Thor," Sam said. The kid grumbled something, but didn't zap any of them, so Sam chalked that up as a win.

They were ushered through matching grey corridors. When they got wider, Sam caught up to Bucky and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. Bucky looked a little surprised, like he always did whenever Sam willingly held onto his metal hand, so he squeezed extra hard.

"This reminds me of something," Steve said. "Like the old bases. Got that feel to it, the Strategic Scientific Reserve."

"Designed by the SSR?" Sam said. "If this belongs to SHIELD…"

"Who knows what's on board?" Bucky said. "And if HYDRA is around here—"

"Those bastards wouldn't dare set foot on base," Mini-Thor said. "Besides, HYDRA's gone now."

"If you're not on their side, then you're on ours," Steve said. "So why the walking at proverbial gunpoint?"

"We've had bad experiences with masks before," a young woman said, stepping out into their path. Her dark hair fell about her shoulders; and while she looked wiry and young, they all knew better than to underestimate SHIELD agents.

"Steve Rogers," Steve said, holding out his hand. She didn't take it, just looked him up and down.

"Skye," she said. "You here to see the director?"

"Is Fury here?"

She snorted. "He isn't the director of SHIELD anymore."

"Then who?"

"About damn time he told you anyway," she remarked. "Lincoln, can you buzz DC and let him know we're on our way?"

"Sure thing," Mini-Thor said.

"Come on," Skye said, and she led them through the facility to, Sam could only guess, the director's office.

"I'm more interested in getting help for Bucky," Steve said.

"I'll be fine," Bucky grumbled. "Feel better already, with my soulmate here."

Sam grinned to himself, and tugged Bucky closer. "When you're up to it, I can make you feel a whole _lot_ better." Bucky blushed.

"Well," Skye said as they stopped outside a door with 'DIRECTOR' on the glass, "if you're not interested in seeing him, I'll just tell Coulson to put away the red carpet."

Steve's shoulders tensed. "Phil Coulson?"

"Yeah." She shrugged. "But since you don't—"

Steve nearly wrenched the door off its hinges, and strode into the office. Skye dashed in after him, and Bucky and Sam poked their heads inside to watch.

"Captain Rogers," the man at the desk said. Sam could only assume this was Phil Coulson, late SHIELD agent, current SHIELD director, and apparently no longer dead. It was a habit among the people Sam was getting to know.

"…Phil," Steve said. He stood on the other side of the desk from the director, whose poker face must've been the stuff of legends.

"Can I help you with something?"

"You… you're…"

"Sergeant Barnes needs help," Skye said, jerking her thumb towards them.

"No, I don't," Bucky said. "I'm healin' up just fine. Sam's lettin' me stay with him. I don't need anything, medical or otherwise. Got my soulmate, an' that's more'n—"

"You bastard!" Steve shouted at the director. "You've been alive all this time?"

"Not all of it."

"Have you been alive for more than one day?"

"Yes—"

"Then you should've told us!"

"What does it matter to you?" Coulson said. "None of you are coming back to SHIELD, and we weren't close. You weren't—" He cut himself off, and pursed his lips. Sam looked between Steve and Coulson, and then glanced at Bucky.

"What about Romanov and Barton?" Steve said.

"They only considered me their handler."

"Stark—"

"Not going there. Pepper's the only one who'd miss me, and she'll be over it. Anyone else who gave a damn knows."

"What about… what about—"

"Thor's an ally, nothing more."

"Sif said he considered you a friend," Skye said. Coulson lifted a shoulder.

"It's awkward," he said. "I'm pretty sure that's because I died trying to save him from his brother, who killed me right in front of him. I barely knew Thor. I met Banner a total of one time. And you…"

"I meant nothing?" Steve said.

Sam felt Bucky tap 'SOULMATES' in Morse code on his arm. Sam tapped back 'YEP'.

"Don't take it personally," Coulson said. From the way Steve flinched, Sam guessed that he'd said the same thing to Coulson. Epically bad timing for them to have met, from what Sam had heard about that day. "I'm busy. Someone can check out Sergeant Barnes for you… welcome back, sergeant," he added to Bucky, who nodded shyly. "You must be Sam Wilson? Pleasure to meet you both."

"Likewise," Sam said. "Agent Skye? Wanna show… the _two_ of us to your best doctor?"

"I'm fi— uh, _oh_, the pain," Bucky said, even though Sam's elbow wouldn't have caused any damage. "Yes. Doctor. Lead the way. See ya later, Steve."

"He can go with you," Coulson said, glaring at Steve. "Goodbye, captain."

Instead of replying, Steve plonked down into a seat and wouldn't move.

"How obstinate is Captain America?" Skye whispered to Sam and Bucky.

"Good luck getting him off that chair before he's ready," Sam said. As the staring match continued, Skye nudged them out of the office, shut the door, and led them to medical.

* * *

Fitz sat beside Simmons.

"How's it going?" he asked.

"Getting there," she said. "I'm sorry I couldn't make that date."

"Was it really a date?" he said.

"I thought… it was going to be," she whispered. "It can still…"

"Mack's my soulmate."

"He's what?" Fitz nodded. "Why didn't you tell me, Fitz?"

"I didn't know! My head was all…" He twirled his hands around. "When we met. You know my soulmark is only 'Hey'. It wasn't much to go on, and I wasn't thinking about meeting my soulmate. I was thinking… I was thinking about you, Jemma."

She placed her hand besides his, but didn't close the gap. His fingers jerked; his hand stayed put.

"It's a terrible mess, isn't it?" she said.

"What do you want to do?"

"My soulmates have each other…"

"That's not how Fate works," Fitz said sharply. "They're still your soulmates. They got you out of that block when… when I couldn't. You said that you heard their voices, but not ours. We _did_ talk to you, and you didn't hear us. They saved you, Jemma. I… had feelings for you, and we nearly drowned. We arranged to have dinner, and half a minute later you were swallowed up by that… that rock. Fate's trying to tell us something. I think we're just not… meant to be."

Simmons covered his hand. "I'm sure you're right. We were perfect together as friends and lab partners."

"That's what we're meant to be to each other," he agreed.

"Friends?"

"Friends."

"Now go and tell Agent Mackenzie that he's free to court you," Simmons said, pushing Fitz's arm. He laughed.

"I will if you will," he said.

"Very well," she said, raising her chin. "Bet you a six pack that I get a date with my soulmates before you."

"You're on, Simmons."

* * *

"If we stay here, we're gonna see this kinda drama _every day_," Bucky told Sam. Agents Skye, Morse, and Hunter hushed them while they watched, along with Agent May, Andrew, and Agent Mackenzie, as FitzSimmons shook on it, agreeing to the terms of the bet, before casually leaving the room. Then they ran in opposite directions, and Mack and May's phones both buzzed simultaneously only seconds later. Mack rolled his eyes and left the room, while May and Andrew went to one corner.

"If Steve and Coulson are soulmates we're not leaving anytime soon," Sam replied.

"What if he calls an assemble here?"

"Hmm. Y'know, the rest of the Avengers should meet Coulson, the ones who haven't."

Bucky's eyes narrowed. "What're you thinkin' about?"

"I've got Romanov's number. I think she should know what's going on, don't you?"

"Coulson will kill us."

"He's not gonna kill one of his childhood heroes," Sam said. "Or his soulmate."

"Wanna bet?"

Sam met his eyes. Bucky stared back.

"On second thoughts, we'll leave the punishment to Steve," he said.

"And Coulson."

"As soon as we reach land, we'll find a nice place," Andrew said, sharing the phone with Agent May. "Dress nice for dinner."

"Thanks for… saying yes," May said, looking uncomfortable about having a private conversation in front of so many people, including two strangers. Mack's voice was just a muffled murmur out in the hallway, and they probably shouldn't have been eavesdropping anyway. But after Skye hacked into the security footage to watch and listen to FitzSimmons's conversation, they'd all become invested.

"We'll see you later, Jemma," Andrew said, and he hung up. He and May hit a high five, then linked their pinkies together. Mack gave them all a thumbs-up through the doorway.

"Phone's ringing," Sam said, pulling it out. "Ah, hell. Speak of the devil… hey, Natasha! How's it going?" He grimaced at Bucky. "Really? Stark said that, huh? We'll… oh, see you soon, then." He hung up. "I swear she's got long-distance ESP or something."

"Coming here?"

"Someone should warn Coulson."

"I'll do it," Skye said, hopping off the foot of Morse's hospital bed. "I'll make the floor shake in his office before I get there. That'll snap them out of… whatever."

"Make the floor _what_?" Sam said.

Skye wriggled her fingers. "That's my power. They call me Quake."

"You're the _only_ one who calls you Quake," Morse said, rolling her eyes.

"It'll catch on, one of these days!"

* * *

**Oops. Turned angstier than it was meant to.**

**Uh, okay. So! I've written FitzMack as a background pairing a few times, yet it has been requested again by ally0212, and Phil/Steve was requested at one point by FanGirl18, which I haven't acknowledged before. Andrew/Jemma/May wasn't requested by anyone; I simply decided it would be fun. Bucky/Sam was requested by aishoren. All these people have met in the MCU, but meh. I do what I want.**

**Please review! New laptop is imminent, I'm sure. In the meantime, old laptop plus Mum's computer equals fan fiction postings.**


	112. Keep Your Mouth Shut (Loki x Wade)

"Keep Your Mouth Shut"

Odin watched the figure in black and red as it – he? – talked at a rapid pace. Thor was barely keeping up with him, and Odin chuckled as the stranger's wild gestures nearly hit Mjolnir. His hand would smart indeed were it to make contact. Eventually, Thor patted the diamond-eyed being on the shoulder, but his steps were dogged even as he returned to the Avengers' side. The king approached, and Thor's face lifted when he noticed.

"Father!" he bellowed. "Are you here to meet my friends?"

That was not Odin's reason for coming to Midgard, but it was not the time to reveal his true reason.

"Introduce us, my son," he said.

"Me first, me first!" the stranger said, waving his hand. Thor sighed visibly.

"This is Wade Wilson," he said. "He is also known as Deadpool. He is _not_ an Avenger, however. I am not entirely certain why he is here. Not creating mischief, nor assisting us in any way."

"You needed the comic relief," Wade Wilson said. "I'm more than that, and there are other reasons for me being here, of course, but it'd be no fun to stay on one side all the time. Anyone who's evil through and through or perfectly good is just _boring_. Layers are fun. Especially if you can peel them off. In a non-creepy way," he added. All of this was spoken in one breath in approximately seven seconds, and a wicked idea came to Odin. He held up one hand, and Wade sensibly stopped talking.

"How would you like to see Asgard, Son of Wil?" he asked.

"…Awesome!"

Thor looked alarmed.

* * *

Loki sighed through his nose. Odin wished to obtain information from Loki, which he was unwilling to give. He owed nothing to Midgard, only to Frigga, who was no longer here. Let Thanos take the world, for all he cared. Let the end come, he had nothing left to live for. His mind and heart, even his _soul_, had been torn apart and then patched back together sloppily. He had nothing to live for, a soulmate he could never hope to find while he was trapped here, and no one visited. Odin had threatened to fetch Thor to him, a terrible prospect. If Thor began spouting that nonsense about brotherhood it would be even worse than anything about betrayal and so forth.

The clanging of guard uniforms, the murmur of Odin's voice, and the light steps of someone who was not Thor neared Loki's cell. He resisted the urge to peek out the window, preferring to make them come to him. He would not allow them the satisfaction of seeing his curiosity.

"Here it is," Odin said, coming into view. Loki glanced up from his book, sneered at the All-Father, and then took in the man with him. He wore a form-fitting outfit of red and black, and only his head was bare, although he was carrying a matching scrap of material which may have been a face mask. Considering the scars on his face, Loki had little doubt he would keep them covered. Imperfections were not appreciated in society, either in Asgard or on Midgard, from what he had observed.

"You still refuse to tell me what you know, my son?" Odin said. Loki bristled at the term of 'endearment', and turned his muzzled face away. The clamps on his lips hurt, but he pushed the pain back. It was nothing to what he'd felt when he heard about Frigga's death. "So be it. I have a companion for you. When you are ready to reveal what it is you are keeping silent, tap on the glass and I will have the gag removed. Am I understood, Loki?"

He nodded shortly. The man in red looked at Odin.

"Dude, if this is how you punish your kids, no wonder he went off the rails," he said. "I don't know how Thor turned out as good as he did, unless he was a suck-up. You're not giving this one much of a chance to make good are you? Hey, am I being locked up here for sassing you or whatever? Because I'm pretty sure I'd still have the rights to a lawyer from Earth. Do you have a telephone?"

"Loki, this is Wade, Son of Wil," Odin said. "He is of Midgard, and an acquaintance of Thor's. I hope you enjoy each other's company. I believe he is also called the Mercenary With a Mouth? It matters not that you cannot speak, Loki. The Son of Wil can more than make up for that."

Yes. Loki was beginning to see that as Odin departed and Wade continued to speak of requiring representation. When he wound down, he turned around and looked warily at Loki.

"Do not worry, Son of Wil," a guard said. "His magic has been suppressed, and he is chained to the bed."

"Sounds like the start of a good night to me," Wade said, grinning at the guard. Then he returned his attention to Loki, clearly assessing the risk, and then sank to the floor, crossing his legs, just outside of Loki's reach. "So, it's you and me, kid. Alone for however long. What'd you do? You know, aside from the obvious, which everyone knows about. But this seems like a special kind of bad, so it has to be something different, unless I heard wrong—"

Loki's eyes had swiftly widened when Wade began to speak to him. He ran to the window and pounded on the glass. Odin must have been close by, because he was there in seconds, frowning, while Wade continued to prattle on in the background. Loki did not need to hear any more; he knew the rest of the one-sided conversation by heart. He gestured to his mouth, and Odin glanced between them.

"You are ready to talk?" he said. Loki nodded frantically, and with a wave of his hand Odin removed the gag. Loki worked his jaw. "I did not expect this to work so soon."

"Wait, did you bring me here to make him talk?" Wade said, after uttering the last word of Loki's mark.

"Yes," Odin said. "I thought perhaps your chatter may irritate him until he broke."

"It was not that," Loki whispered. He had not spoken for months, and he massaged his throat with his free hand.

"So why'd you crack?" Wade asked, cocking his head. Loki smiled half-heartedly.

"You are my soulmate," he said. Wade's mouth fell open, but no words came from it, which was a minor relief. Loki turned back to Odin, whose sole eye looked ready to fall out. "I will tell you what I remember. But you must grant protection to Wade. Please… your highness. Please do whatever you can to take care of him for me. When Thanos discovers that I have told you… he knows that I am unbonded, and I had not met my soulmate. However, he may have spies anywhere."

"I don't stay dead," Wade said. "And I'm kinda insane. Don't be so happy about having me as a soulmate. Then again, if you haven't heard of me it'd explain why you haven't run screaming from the cell… oh, wait." He looked over the chain and the glass wall. "Huh. Actually, you really wanna get out of here and you _don't_ look all that happy. You've got me pegged. I wouldn't worry." He kicked his legs out and leaned back on his hands. "I'll be going back to Earth after this, so you don't ever have to see me again. Pity, `cause your body's smokin' hot, and I'd be so open to bonding. Oh well." He shrugged. Loki continued to stare at him. "Go tell it on the mountain. Maybe your Heidegger should send me straight back, King Odette?"

Loki looked at Odin, who cocked his head.

"It's better that way," Loki whispered, and Odin nodded.

"Very well, Son of Wil," he said. "Loki, stay on the bed while I take your… soulmate back to Heimdall."

Loki retreated, and stared at his hands while Wade was taken from the cell. Only when he was sure that they were gone did he look up. Seeing that he was alone again, he covered his face and breathed evenly.

* * *

Heimdall hid his surprise well as Odin returned with the man in black and red.

"Wade is to return to Midgard," Odin said. "Wherever he wishes to go."

"Wherever you picked me up from," Wade said. "Not so many big rune circle thingies that way. They're a bitch to clean up, I've heard."

"As you wish," Heimdall said.

"Dude, have you seen _The Princess Bride_? Not that _I've_ seen it. I just know… you know, quotes, everyone knows quotes, and that's from… yeah. I guess that'd make me Buttercup. Or Grizzly Nick Fury here, if you were talking to him. So you're the Dread Pirate Heidelberg? But hang on, _he's_ the one with an eye-patch. And a sword."

"I will send him back immediately, your highness," Heimdall said, and he ushered Wade away from Odin, who was rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"He really doesn't want me as a son-in-law, does he?" Wade remarked, and Heimdall nearly tripped over.

"Son-in-law?" he said.

"I'm Loki's soulmate," Wade said. "That's right, you weren't there for that. Yeah, I'm his soulmate. Poor guy. I don't know what she was thinking."

"Fate?"

"…Yeah, we'll go with that. I mean, you'd think that with you being an alien and all, you'd be able to break the fourth wall, too. But magic wouldn't be any fun if it was limitless, especially since the bad guys would win all the time. Unless the good guys had _more_ magic…"

"Have a safe journey," Heimdall said, tapping his staff. Wade looked down at his feet, and then in a moment he was gone. Heimdall breathed a sigh of relief, and then chided himself for it. Fate would surely punish him, and whomever else had chosen to separate the two soulmates.

* * *

Wanda Maximoff was bent over Vision, pumping magic into him after Thanos had nearly ended his life. Wade had seen Loki at the other end of the battlefield as villains and superheroes alike had fought to keep Thanos from taking over the world. Justin Hammer, Crossbones, even General Ross had been there, lending a hand, along with New SHIELD, which pissed off the Avengers when they found out that Coulson was alive. Even Wade knew that. Seriously, wasn't Tony Stark an Avenger? How did they not know? Anyway, the point was that Thanos was dead, completely dead, and the Guardians of the Galaxy were preparing his corpse to take it back with him. Odin had already arrived and taken the Infinity Gauntlet away. Wade knew that Loki would've gone back with him, so he prepared to take off before Wolverine decided to test his immortality again. Or Sabretooth; that guy was around. All the mutants had taken exception to Thanos, but then the guy was pretty objectionable. Wade had taken particular pleasure in helping to take down the monster who'd tortured his soulmate.

Not his Loki. Barely his soulmate. But whatever. Wade didn't need anyone. He had the little yellow boxes and Bob. Soulmates need not apply.

"Son of Wil."

"Yo," he said, half-expecting to see Thor, and he raised his hand as he turned around. It fell to his side when he saw who was there. "Oh. Hey, uh, Prince Loki. Good fighting today. I'm guessing that everyone's going back to mortal enemies now, so I'm just gonna go before people start killing me again."

"I had not realised that you were in earnest about being effectively immortal," Loki said quietly. Wade shrugged.

"It sucks," he said. "I don't know why anyone would wanna live forever, especially considering some of the ways I've died. And because I look like this." He pulled off his mask and then unzipped his suit part of the way, showing how far the scars went. "Not the best look, is it?"

"I have seen worse," Loki said. "Even caused some of it myself."

"Well, you didn't cause this, so yay for you," Wade said, hiding himself again.

"Where is your soulmark?"

"Doesn't matter, since we're not gonna bond." He'd never admitted it to anyone, but being rejected by his soulmate hurt more than he thought it would. Being prepared for it, for decades, didn't lessen the disappointment. "I'll, uh, probably not see you around. So… bye?"

He turned to leave, but Loki grabbed his arm.

"I was protecting you," he said.

"I can take care of myself."

"You could not have taken on Thanos by yourself. You see how many people were required to save the world this time. Enemies united against a common threat. Perhaps your own immortality would not have been enough. I did not wish to lose you."

"We were barely in the same room for five minutes," Wade pointed out. He refused to hope that this was happening, that he _might've_ been getting his soulmate… no.

"I have waited countless _lifetimes _to find my soulmate," Loki said, and he caught Wade's hands. Nope. Still wasn't happening. Couldn't be. "Then my… then the All-Father brought you to me. It was a terrible time for us to meet, Wade Wilson. Now that the danger of Thanos has passed, I am more confident in approaching you for a… for a second chance."

"You were protecting me?" Wade said in disbelief.

"It is my duty as a former prince, and as your soulmate."

"Huh. No one's ever thought I needed protecting. Even from myself."

"You are my soulmate," Loki said, repeating Wade's soulmark. "If you will have me, I will be happier than I thought possible."

"If I'll…" He blinked rapidly. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Well, yeah. I… I wasn't expecting." He wasn't used to being nearly speechless. "You sure this isn't a dream? I'm gonna wake up any second and be disappointed."

"I can assure you that that is not the case," Loki said. "For were I dreaming, it would be a nightmare of you rejecting me. I did not anticipate…" He swallowed, and then smiled so widely that Wade's knees might've given out if they weren't so close. What did he have to recommend to a _prince_? One who could wield magic?

"You really want me?" he asked.

"More than _anything_, Wade, Son of Wil."

Wade was surprised. "Okay. Right. Where's the wedding gonna be?"

* * *

**Ship requested by Mira SeverusSirius Black-Snape. I thought of Loki being gagged and Wade being used to torture him by chattering away, only Loki recognising the words and wanting to be able to talk to his soulmate ASAP. Then the Thanos thing happened, and I figured that Loki would be trying to protect Wade. My mind goes to strange places. Have you noticed?**

**Good news: new laptop! Still writing on the old one until I can put Office onto my new baby. It's a Satellite, so I've named it Galileo.**

**Please review, peeps!**


	113. Take It Down (FitzxWard, BrockxJemma)

**Note: One of the first pairings I shipped in 'AoS', FitzWard was a favourite from early on. I was heartbroken by the betrayal, and hoped for redemption. I think that Ward will always have a soft spot for Fitz, no matter how unreciprocated it is.**

"Take It Down"

_This is what Kara would've wanted._

Grant Ward kept telling himself that. He didn't think of the entire reason. He stuck with the one which still mattered, the relationship that was more likely to happen than…

What did it say about his life choices that, despite no inclinations towards necrophilia, he still had more of a chance with a corpse than with his soulmate? But he'd lost Fitz the moment he sent that room into the ocean.

(_It was supposed to float_. A thought which tormented him constantly.)

Obviously his affection for the Scottish engineer refused to fade, judging by the stubborn soulmark on his abdomen. The first words Fitz had spoken to him, inscribed in surprisingly precise handwriting. Whenever he felt particularly down, he'd trace the letters and remember the times they had together. Movie and game nights, shopping trips, working out, missions in the field, sleeping under the stars…

He sighed, and rest his head back on his pillow. Being the head of New HYDRA wasn't exactly taking its toll… alright, it was, but he'd made a vow to himself; when Fitz lunged across the plane, when Kara died due to his impulsiveness, when he was drinking in that pub and demanded more names. He'd scooped up every last HYDRA agent he could find, plus new recruits, anyone who hadn't been taken out by the Avengers or New SHIELD. It was just a matter of bringing them all together into the one place. Get them working as a team, come up with a plan to bring SHIELD to its knees, and then let Coulson and his crew take them all out first.

Because the old Kara would've wanted it that way. Because Fitz would want it that way.

Grant sighed as he sat up, and then rolled out of bed. He'd made contact with the few remaining members of Strike Team Alpha. They'd prove the hardest obstacle, as suspicious as the day was interminable, accustomed to leading, especially Rumlow. He had his work cut out with that band. All the other lost sheep had been easier to manipulate – he had the best results since Romanov, after all – but he'd be playing with the big boys now. He'd have to be a better secret keeper than Nick Fury.

So… no pressure.

* * *

"You're it?" he blurted. Brock raised an eyebrow, looking over HYDRA's new leader.

"Got a problem with that?" he asked. Ward's gaze flitted down to his hands briefly, the smallest movement barely there, before meeting Brock's eyes again.

"It's an honour to have you here," Ward said. "I'm just surprised. I thought more of the Strike team made it out. Don't get me wrong; I'm glad you're alive. Your experience and advice will be greatly appreciated."

"I have to rest more than I used to," Brock said. He had to admit it; better than collapsing in the field, especially in front of Ward. "Whatever they did to me was a miracle."

"Miracles are…" _A mixed blessing_, Brock knew. "Good. Like I said, glad to have you on board." He held out a hand. Hesitantly, Brock shook it, resisting the urge to wipe his palm on his trousers. This was his chance, and he wasn't screwing it up.

"Do you have any plans to show me, or should I just await orders… sir?" he said, internally grinding his teeth. Ward's expression didn't change: impressive.

"I think you and I are on equal footing, Agent Rumlow," he replied.

"Not an agent, unless that's the title you're using," Brock said.

Ward looked him up and down again. "Nice shirt."

"I got it out of a trashcan," he said dryly.

"Jolly Roger." He arched an eyebrow. "Rogers?"

"Ha-ha."

"Skull and crossbones." Ward looked contemplative. "Crossbones?"

"What?"

"Your codename. Skull just makes you sound like a lesser version of the Red Skull, and we know you're better than that. Crossbones sounds pretty cool, though."

Brock laughed shortly, surprised.

"I guess it does," he said. "What about you? Your codename?"

"I think SHIELD would call me Asshole, so I should probably stick with that." Brock snickered again. "Go get settled in. We haven't got much room yet, still renovating, but I put a room aside a room for Strike…"

Brock paused. "They were the closest thing I had to friends. None of their burner cells are working, and while I was in hospital I went to the morgue and identified nearly every one of my team. Only three of them missing, unless some of the other bodies were faked, or… but if we find them you'll let me talk to them, won't you?"

"Of course," Ward said. "Still got feelers out, and I thought I was getting more than one member of Strike, so it's possible we've already made contact."

"Good," Brock said, swallowing as he nodded. "Thank you."

It was the only way.

* * *

Skye frowned as she handed her report to Coulson.

"Looks like HYDRA's back," she said. "More like old contacts, not so many two-headed replacements. I can't find much, so they're obviously not relying on tech."

"Like the Deathlok files," Coulson said, sifting through the print-outs. "Any idea who's in charge?"

"I can guess."

"So can I, but I'm not jumping to conclusions," he said. "Ward was a top field agent, but he usually took orders. I don't see him as the new leader of HYDRA, do you?"

"Who else?" she said. "Anyone's capable of big things if they're desperate enough, and I think he's pretty pissed off. We saw Kara's body, and no one in SHIELD shot her, which means someone on his side – maybe Ward himself – did it. If she was masquerading as May, it's possible her killer shot first."

"If you were facing someone like May, wouldn't you?"

"If I knew how kickass she is? ICER first, questions later."

"That's because you're level-headed," he said. "I'll get someone to look into these."

Skye nodded, then left the office, hoping they'd formulate a plan to hit HYDRA before HYDRA could take out any more SHIELD agents. Time to look over the register and see whose skills they could use.

* * *

Grant looked up when there was a knock on his door pane. He waved Rumlow in, finishing his sentence before resting his pen on the desk, and mourning the fact that they couldn't use computers. Anything that could be hacked, in fact, which meant good old paper and pen.

"What can I do for you?" he said. Rumlow shut the door firmly, and approached the desk.

"I wondered if…"

"If?"

Rumlow sighed, and Grant waved him into the seat on the other side of his desk. The agent sank down gratefully, and stared into space for a few moments.

"If you could tell me anything about her," he said quietly.

Grant tilted his head. "Her?" he repeated, matching Rumlow's volume.

"My… soulmate."

Grant took half a minute to compose himself, and right his shaken perspective.

"Who _is_ your soulmate?" he asked.

In answer, Rumlow rolled up his shirt, and showed off a mark in familiar writing, curving around his side.

"Simmons," he said, and Rumlow nodded, pushing his shirt back down.

"You've worked with her," he said. "Is there anything you can…?"

"She's smart," Grant said. "Two doctorates. One of the top students at the academy. She's… well, you'll know that she's twenty-seven." Rumlow hummed in agreement. "Pretty. This one time she was infected by an alien virus which killed its victims by… electrocuting them. Shorting out everything around them. We weren't going to get to a facility in time to find a cure, not before she could bring the whole plane down. She tried to develop one, and when she thought she'd failed, she knocked Fitz, her lab partner, out with a fire extinguisher and jumped from the plane."

"What?" Rumlow said, gripping the arms of his chair. The wood creaked, and Grant vaguely wondered whether it would crumble under Rumlow's strength.

"But then Fitz realised it _did_ work. So while he tried to pull on a parachute, I took the cure, and the parachute, and jumped after her to administer the dose and stop her from plummeting into the ocean." Rumlow was paler than Grant had ever seen him.

"Thanks," he said faintly.

"She saved Fitz when they nearly drowned," he didn't mention the cause, "went undercover at HYDRA for months, convinced Bakshi and Whitehall that she was on their side, and the next time we saw each other she threatened to kill me if she ever saw me again. Then almost made good on that promise." Rumlow, who seemed to have calmed, arched his eyebrows. "She tried to turn me to dust. Bakshi saved my life. She… she really cares for the team. SHIELD all the way. Makes great sandwiches, and uses her weird British words to beat everyone at Scrabble. I don't know what else I can tell you."

"I think you've said enough."

Grant studied Rumlow, and he began to wonder.

"You want to meet her," he said.

"I'm going to, if we have each other's words."

"So why did you come here? She'd never work for HYDRA." When Rumlow didn't immediately reply, Grant decided to leap. What did he have to lose? "You want to prove that you can be the good guy, so you plan to take us down from the inside."

Rumlow didn't look scared. Too confident? He straightened , and proved Grant wrong.

"Who's your soulmate?" he said. It should've been left field, but he'd obviously worked it out.

"Fitz," he answered. "Leo Fitz, her best friend."

"I never knew you before, but I'd heard _of_ you. One of Garrett's pets." Grant tensed at the words, but didn't deny it. "This end-game plan of yours that you've been concocting. He never would've taught you that strategy. That's pure Coulson. It'll put us in a prime position for the _other_ side, if you tell them how to strike. I wondered why. Either you've lost it – and your behaviour doesn't suggest that – or you have other plans for New HYDRA. What's your incentive? We all know how much Coulson and his team hate you. You'd be lucky to get back into their good graces without the grand gesture. And why would you want to go back to them, risk it at all, assuming you even got out of this alive? This plan doesn't leave room for survivors, not if it goes to hell for us, and you know that, Ward. The only reason you'd do it is for redemption, and if this died with you they'd never know. I figured you might do it for your soulmate, though. It was just a matter of finding out which one it was."

"So you confessed about Simmons to get me to open up," Grant said.

"You're smart," Rumlow said. "Took a gamble. Hoped you'd realise…"

"The real reason you're here."

"I've never met her, but the words…" His shoulders slumped. "I don't know whether she'd forgive everything I've done, but I have to try. We'll meet anyway, so unless it's beforehand, I know I'll make it out alive. And I'm enhanced. But what if you…"

"What if I die?"

"Yeah. Is there any message you want me to give them?"

He thought about it. "Tell Fitz I never stopped caring, and I'm sorry I couldn't be what he wanted."

"That's it?"

He shrugged. "Fill in whatever blanks you want. I'd rather die and take HYDRA with me than fail and have him hate me forever. I've still got his soulmark. He probably doesn't have his anymore…" He looked at his folded hands. "Morse told me I need to take responsibility for my actions. My family…" He grimaced. "I didn't get the closure I thought I would. This'll be my final closure." He tapped the surface of the desk. "I hope you get out of it. And don't break Simmons's heart, or I'll return to haunt you."

"Understood, sir," Rumlow said, and he gave Grant a charming grin.

* * *

While Phil was talking to FitzSimmons in their lab, Skye burst in, and he was thankful that no one was holding anything breakable.

"They finally got a computer!" she said, bouncing on her toes as she leaned against the holotable, grinning. "I hacked it. Now we know where they'll be tomorrow."

She showed them what she'd found, but Phil wasn't taking this on faith.

"It could be a trap," he said.

"Well, duh," she said. "Point is, it could still lead us to them. Don't you think that's worth taking the risk? We can leave enough people here to hold the fort, set our own trap early, but not so early they'd have time to find and dismantle it, and then…" She made a blowing up motion, complete with whooshing sound effect. Phil looked at her blankly.

"What if they have hostages?" he said.

"Then we put in bugs as well," she said. "Scope out the area first. Seriously, DC, this is kids' stuff."

"That's what worries me."

"Look, it's the best lead so far. They don't have a hacker like me – well, I hope not – so we come up with backup plans. This is way more your style than HYDRA's—"

"So someone I've worked with," he said.

"Ward," Fitz said, clenching his fists on the tabletop. Simmons laid a hand over one of them, but he didn't relax.

"We all knew that, Fitz," she said. "He was your soulmate, so this is harder for you—"

"I never meant anything t' him."

"Clear head," Phil snapped, and the scientists looked at him. "We need things they won't be able to detect. Skye, set an alarm so you can check during the night and make sure the details haven't changed: location, time, number of people to expect. If we take out even a third of the organisation, I'll be happy."

"Even if it clues them in that I've hacked them once?" Skye said.

"Do you have a better plan?" She shook her head. "Good. I'll be in my office cooking up contingency plans. But I think the idea of…" He copied Skye's explosion move and noises. "Is a good one."

Skye smiled brightly, Fitz continued to study his hands, and Simmons looked far too pleased at the prospect of blowing up the enemy.

* * *

The building had come down. Phil stared at it, expecting some last-minute retaliation, the trap HYDRA wanted to spring on them. They all waited in tense silence, until a lone figure emerged from the wreckage, and staggered their way, hands in the air.

"This was all too easy," Skye said, glancing at the others. The man who approached them, wearing a black shirt with a skull and the crossed bones, spoke up.

"It was meant to be easy," he said. "For you. An 'I'm sorry' present from Grant Ward."

"Really?" Phil said, eyeing him dubiously. "Are we supposed to believe that, Rumlow?"

"Don't you think it was funny that he gathered every HYDRA agent he could find in one place, let you know the arrangements through a setup your hacker could access easily, and ensure that no one left the building? I'm… probably the only one alive."

"Why?"

"Enhanced after a Helicarrier ran over me at the Triskelion. I try not to bear a grudge towards Captain America."

"And why are you here now?" Fitz asked. Rumlow looked him over.

"Are you Fitz?"

"Yes."

"Message from Ward," he said. "He's sorry he couldn't be what you wanted, and he never stopped caring about you. He arranged all of this so you could eliminate HYDRA. I only survived because of whatever they pumped into me when I was at death's door."

"But you're…" Fitz moved his hand towards his side, and then stopped. "I didn't feel..."

"Ward still had your soulmark," Rumlow said. He'd lowered his hands part of the way, but not completely. "He knew you wouldn't have his anymore—"

"I do."

"...Oh."

"He had…" Fitz turned his back on Simmons and tugged up his shirt. "Is it still there? Can you see it?"

Simmons bent in close, and her jaw dropped. "Yes, it's there."

"Then he's alive?" Rumlow said. Fitz nodded quickly. "Shit. I've gotta find him." He met Simmons's eyes, opened his mouth, then closed it again. He turned away, and only took two steps before she spoke.

"You were on our side all along?" she asked. Rumlow stopped, glanced back over his shoulder, and inclined his head. Then he ran back to the wreckage, and Mack sighed.

"Great," he said. "Now I feel like I've gotta help."

"I'll come with you," Hunter said. "If any of them survived, I'll kill them myself."

"I'll join you," Phil said, wriggling his metal fingers. "This isn't just decoration."

"Me, too," Skye said. "I can move the debris faster."

"If you're sure—"

"I am."

Phil looked back at the others. "You stay here. If this is another trap I need you to run, get back to base if you have to."

"Phil," May said in her warning tone.

"I'm the director of SHIELD," he said. She pursed her lips, but didn't reply.

When they brought Ward back, Fitz and Simmons were there with the stretcher, and Phil and Mack placed him on it while Hunter, Skye, and Rumlow covered their backs.

"I'm sorry," Ward said, his voice hoarse and his face caked with dust. He was looking at Fitz, who was staring at him stonily. "I thought you and Simmons…"

"You rejected me first," Fitz said. "Are you blaming me for turning to her when I thought no one else cared?"

Ward shook his head as they loaded him into the van.

"I didn't think I'd make it outta there. Should've left me to…"

Then his occasional cough turned to hacking, body-shaking coughs, dust flying from his mouth. Simmons started to clean his face. Fitz took over, nudging her out.

"I can take it from here," he muttered. He didn't look ready to forgive; it would take all of them time to come to terms with what happened here. But Simmons perched on the edge of the van floor, feet swinging just above the ground, and looked up at Rumlow.

"Thank you," she said. He chuckled, and rubbed his grubby face.

"Did it all for you, sweetheart," he said, and her jaw dropped. Judging by her paleness, it was a good thing she was sitting down.

"You're my soulmate?" she said.

"Yeah," Rumlow said. "I've known for a long time, but I also knew you were loyal to SHIELD. I didn't think it'd mean anything, and… I was confused. Not a good excuse, I know, but it's the truth. When I found out Ward was rebuilding HYDRA, I knew he'd make contact with all of you eventually, or it was a pretty good bet, since he seems the type to bear a grudge. I had the same idea he did; set them up, then knock `em all down, and get on your good side. I knew we'd meet; it was just a matter of making it so your words – saying I was on your side the whole time – would be true. Then I realised what Ward's plan meant, and he told me Fitz was his soulmate. He doesn't think he has a chance, which I think is a real shame, after all he did to bring HYDRA down for—"

"Crossbones!" Ward said, struggling to sit up. Fitz pushed him back down with an annoyed grunt, and continued to clean the worst of the grit off his face.

"Stay down," Fitz said, and Ward scowled up at him. "Don't give me that look."

"Will if I want to."

"You're such a baby."

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around everything," Simmons said. Rumlow reached out, pulling his hand back before he could touch her shoulder.

"Maybe you'd better ride separately," he said.

"Good idea," May said, and she tugged Simmons away. "Come with me."

"I'll stay with the van," Phil said, peeling his eyes away from Fitz and Ward. "Thank you, Rumlow. You'll have to go through a lie detector—"

"Not a problem," he said quickly. "Anything to…"

"Even if she finds it hard to trust you?"

"She'd be stupid to trust me, and out of the two of us, she's the genius doctor, not me. I don't expect her to... I just want a chance for her to get to know me, and see whether I'm worth the time. And my skills set doesn't leave a lot of options open for me. With SHIELD's history of giving second chances where they might not be deserved…"

"Of course. Come with me, where I can keep an eye on you."

Rumlow bowed his head, and spied Phil's prosthesis. "Cool hand."

"Thanks."

"I think…" He looked at the van as Fitz continued to pin Ward down. "He was ready to make the sacrifice play all along, as long as you were all safe. Especially Fitz. There was never a question of Ward making it out alive. I don't think he _wanted_ to. Whether that was so no one would question the plan, or whether he considered it atonement for…"

"For giving Fitz brain damage?"

"Yes."

"As atonements go, this was pretty impressive," Phil conceded. "I don't know whether any of us will ever be able to give him our full trust again—"

"Which would be a pity, director," Rumlow said, apparently already deferring to Phil's position. "Whatever his faults, he did this for his soulmate. He was willing to die to make the world a safer place for Fitz. He might've been a selfish guy before – we never met until he started to rebuild HYDRA – but if no one learns from their mistakes…"

"I know." The doors to the other car closed, and Skye waved from the window. "We'd better get into the van. After you, Agent Rumlow."

"_Am_ I an agent?"

"You can be, if you past the test."

Rumlow nodded shortly, and hopped into the back, followed by Hunter and Phil. Lincoln and Mack were in the front. It felt a little like splitting the group by gender, but that's how it'd worked out. Besides, Fitz would feel more comfortable with Phil and Hunter there, and if Rumlow was genuine about wanting to join SHIELD – and they were definitely keeping him away from Simmons until after the lie detector test – then it would be more appropriate to have him in the van where Phil could keep an eye on him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked Rumlow as they neared the plane which would take them to the ship. "You climbed out of rubble."

"I'll heal quickly. Your medics can check, but I'm doing okay. Thanks for asking."

"No one at HYDRA ever asked whether you were okay?" Phil said.

"We were sent to medical to follow regs, but if it didn't look like we were about to keel over and die they didn't care too much."

"Pity you were on the wrong side."

"Damn good thing Ward did what he did," Rumlow said. Ward had doze off during the journey. He was going to get a rude awakening when they had to move him, since he was usually a light sleeper.

Phil hummed noncommittally.

* * *

"He's awfully handsome, isn't he?" Jemma said, peeking through the glass to the medical room where Brock… where _Rumlow_ was being checked out… _over_. Checked over. She wasn't checking him out, no, sir.

"You're a basket case," Skye said. "That time in the rock addled your brain."

Jemma gave her the best scathing look she could summon, and then returned her attention to her soulmate. She'd seen the mark briefly, and it was her handwriting alright. She'd had Skye take a picture of her mark, close enough so that he wouldn't be able to tell where it was, although Skye said that if he knew it was on her leg it would drive him crazy thinking about how they'd have to be positioned to bond.

"Addled brain or not, he's a looker," she said.

"Okay, so you're right about that," Skye said. "But this is the only time I'll admit it, because he's your soulmate."

Jemma beamed. "That's perfectly acceptable," she said. "Thank you, Skye."

"You're welcome."

When Rumlow looked over at them, she ducked out of sight, and Skye snorted in laughter. Jemma admitted to herself that she looked childish, and she didn't need anyone pointing it out, thank you very much.

"Just you wait," she said. "When it happens to you…"

"Hopefully I won't have a HYDRA agent, past, current, or future," Skye said.

"That's low."

"No, that's _truthful_. You realise that if we forgive Rumlow, eventually we'll have to forgive Ward."

"Rumlow didn't betray us the way that Ward did."

"No, but Strike Team Alpha was working on a bigger scale. Ward was working for Garrett, who seemed to be working for himself as much as he worked for HYDRA."

Jemma sighed. "I hate life sometimes."

"But you got yourself a smouldering hot guy for a soulmate," Skye said. "Okay, so I broke my promise a little bit there, but you have to admit, when it comes to life, he's an excellent consolation prize. I still haven't found my soulmate. All I got out of today was most of HYDRA being brought down. Yay professionally. That's it."

"You've had a terrible life," Jemma said. "It will all balance out eventually. You'll find your soulmate, and it will be lovely, because you _deserve it_, Skye." Skye turned bashful.

"I'm not pinning my hopes on that," she said. "Thanks for the encouragement, though."

Jemma broke the moment by checking out her soulmate again. He winked at her, and she ducked behind the wall panel with a squeak. Skye burst out laughing.

* * *

Ward wasn't in bad shape, all things considered. Fitz would almost suspect him of being enhanced if it wasn't for the fact that he had fractured bones and internal injuries, which looked to be healing at a normal rate, i.e. just short of standstill. And he wasn't absorbing the drugs abnormally fast. Much as he hated it, Fitz left long enough to grab something to work on, then returned to Ward's bedside. He'd be quiet company, much more than his soulmate deserved, but his proximity would help the healing process. And if Ward truly was on their side, they needed him at full strength, the same as Rumlow.

Simmons and Rumlow. Good God. And Fitz thought it was bad enough being soulmated to Ward. At least he'd never directly betrayed Coulson's childhood hero. But what a coup if Ward and Rumlow joined SHIELD and fought against their enemies.

"Sorry." Ward kept apologising, which was annoying.

"Stop," Fitz said, jabbing the blueprints on the screen. "It doesn't get you extra points."

"Didn't think so." He coughed. Fitz refused to feel sorry for him.

"Whatever Rumlow said about you thinking you'd die doesn't make up for… for…"

"I know." Ward's voice was raspy. "Care… love you…"

Fitz nearly dropped his device, and stared at Ward. "No."

"Friend. Wanted more, but… mission…"

"That didn't stop you from sleeping with May and cosying up to Skye."

"They were… could…"

"They were acceptable?" Ward nodded. "Because they're women."

"If we'd bonded…"

"Then I would've known all about HYDRA, no matter how careful you were," Fitz surmised. That one was fairly obviously, to be honest. "You wanted to drive me away by making me think you were straight."

Ward's fingers twitched in his direction. Fitz moved his hand close enough for the tips of their fingers to brush, no more. The fleeting contact was electric, and he'd have withdrawn his hand if he could; but Ward entwined their fingers, and Fitz couldn't bring himself to pull away.

"I hate you," Fitz said. "What you did to us."

"S'posed to… float…" Ward coughed, wincing as it jerked his chest and probably strained his injuries.

"It wasn't just that. The months of lies. Working for _HYDRA_, for God's sake! Why?"

Ward eyed him. "Bad choices," he managed to say.

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Don't worry… `bout me." His breaths were unsteady, and Fitz considered asking Simmons to put in a breathing tube. It'd stop the talking. "Be with… who you want."

He rolled his eyes, and sat back in his chair, picking up his work again.

"Seems I stuck with you," he remarked. "Now sleep. Rest equals recovery." Ward settled into the pillows, watching Fitz with his peripheral. "And… we'll see. About the other thing."

Ward drifted back to sleep, this time with the slightest upturn at the corners of his mouth.

* * *

**Left it kind of up in the air at the end there, didn't I? I didn't anticipate the chapter getting out of hand. Thought I should try for some good!Ward, spurred on by ozhawk's latest chapter. Hope it wasn't too unrealistic.**

**I threw in Rumlow/Simmons because I felt like it. As I told ozhawk, I've written so much slash lately that I felt I should balance it out with some het, and it felt like a nice symmetry to pair off both Fitz and Simmons in this. I don't know why I keep using Fitz to redeem people. I think I'm better at writing British characters, so I find it easier to write Fitz and Simmons. Plus, I just want to wrap him up in cotton wool sometimes and put him somewhere safe. Then again, I want to do that to at least half of the characters in MCU.**

**Please review!**


	114. All That I Want (Wade x Warren III)

"All That I Want"

The day Warren stopped sawing off his wings in defeat, Warren Senior vowed to find a cure, to make sure that his son didn't need to be ashamed anymore. Neither mentioned the words on Warren's chest – _Are those wings?_ – written in a hand so beautiful that Warren Worthington the Second was certain that his son's soulmate was someone with style and class. Someone who'd be horrified by anyone with the x-gene, especially a physical power which was so hard to conceal.

Warren the Third hated the thought of his soulmate being unable to accept him. Since the day his wings started to grow, he'd done everything he could to get rid of them, and opted to attend dress-up parties as an angel or a bird, with poorly-made wings, in case someone was simply incredulous, not disgusted. Well, maybe disgusted with his poor efforts, but if it turned out that his soulmate wasn't an asshole, he'd do anything.

But he wouldn't do _that_… would he?

* * *

Hand on the glass door, Warren pushed his way into the lab. The large window looked out over New York City, but he was distracted by the people bustling around the room.

"Hello, Warren," one of the doctors said. A darker woman with an accent, who he'd seen at a distant, but never gotten to know. He didn't leave home much, after all, barely set foot outside unless it was winter and he could wear a bulky coat.

"How are you, son?" his father said, clasping his shoulder. "You sleep well?"

"Yeah," Warren mumbled, looking around the room at the scientists.

"You know, I'm proud of you for doing this. Everything's gonna be fine. I promise."

"Yeah," he repeated. He couldn't shake the feeling of coldness, never able to hide the pain when his wings were bound.

"You ready?" Warren nodded. He jumped when the woman snapped on a pair of surgical gloves, and tried not to think about how much he hated medical procedures. Especially needles. God, he hated those.

There was a twinge in his back as a tech removed his coat, revealing the leather straps holding Warren's wings in place. He'd never have to worry about them after today. He could go out in summer, maybe go swimming like he used to. Maybe he could go to social events where the only wings he'd be wearing were fancy dress ones. Or he could become a pilot with wing insignia, or build model planes, or become a rocket engineer…

Or maybe he could avoid anything to do with wings and avoid meeting his soulmate for as long as possible.

He thought about all of this as he was led to the padded board, like something out of _Silence of the Lambs_, and was swiftly strapped to it. He saw a syringe being loaded up, and was damn sure he was starting to sweat, like when he used to drip with perspiration while filing away the bones—

No. No thinking about that. He was here to… to…

"The transformation can be a little jarring," the doctor said, and she swabbed the inside of his left arm. Warren swallowed.

"Dad, can we talk about this for a sec?" he asked, craning his neck away as his eyes flitted between the bindings, the needle, and his father.

"We've talked about it, son," he said firmly. "It'll all be over soon. Everything's gonna be fine."

_Stop saying that_! Warren thought. "Wait." The needle paused close to his arm. "I can't do this."

"Warren, calm down—"

"No! I… I can't do this."

"Yes, you can." Warren spluttered, the words on his bare chest in his peripheral vision, screaming that he couldn't go ahead with this, or he'd lose his soulmate. "Relax, son."

"No—"

"Take it easy…"

He was shaking his head, his whole body trembling, fighting the straps holding him down.

"I can't do this!" he shouted.

"I promise you—"

"Dad!"

"It'll be fine! Warren, relax—"

With a powerful surge Warren broke out of his constraints and spread his wings, knocking the technicians over. There. That felt better. It felt _natural_. There was a warm feeling in his chest, almost like his soulmark approved of this. Stupid soulmark.

"Warren," his father said, "it's a better life. It's what we all want."

Warren didn't want his soulmate, some snob who'd look down on him and try to change him for 'a better life'. But he wasn't going to deny his nature, either.

"No," he said. "It's what _you_ want."

The wings took up too much room to go back through the building, and his father would probably have him restrained again, and forced to take the antidote. So he headed for the only possible way out.

"Warren, no!"

Uncaring of any cuts from the glass, Warren leapt out the window. He hadn't practiced flying. Maybe he'd go splat on the ground as someone below said 'Are those wings?', and he wouldn't have to see their face?

But flying came naturally to him, somehow. He swept out over the crowd, over the river, through the Golden Gate bridge, and sought a place of refuge. He'd heard murmurings about a school in Westchester County. A place for mutants… like him. Maybe he'd be safe there? Maybe his soulmate would even be there?

First, though, he should probably get some clothes so he could cover his soulmark. And a suitcase, if he was going to be gone for awhile.

Or forever.

* * *

Despite it all, Warren didn't want his father to die. He loved his dad, he did. After the X-Men stopped Magneto, maybe they'd even be more accepted by society? His soulmate might take one look at him and be impressed, instead of disgusted? He wouldn't stay with anyone who'd keep him as a pet, but at least his soulmate wouldn't hate him. That was something. Really, he had to stop being so cynical.

Starting after… after he stopped his father from becoming a pancake.

"Warren?" he said, tightening his grip around Warren's shoulders.

"Hi, Dad," he said. He swooped out of the line of fire. "Home?"

"Yes. Take us home."

"My… my home is—"

"With me. If you'll… if you'll stay, that is. You don't have to do anything you don't want to, I promise. Everything will be fine."

"You keep saying that."

"It _will_. You… your mutation saved my life, even after I wanted you to… You're all I have left of your mother. I don't want to lose you."

Warren sighed through his nose. "I missed you, Dad," he confessed.

"I missed you too, son."

* * *

_Some years later_

Warren Worthington Senior and Warren Worthington Junior were co-directors of the family business, although the younger was taking on more responsibilities from his father in preparation for the day he would take over completely. Until then, he was happy to share the job with his father and learn from him.

Unfortunately, a man in his position and with his wealth had to schmooze with people sometimes. Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters didn't teach much in the way of social graces, considering that most of the students were outcasts who didn't interact with non-mutants. He'd introduced some of his friends into society, but they preferred to stick together, not get caught in conversation with dull, highbrow people.

It would be one thing if Tony Stark was there. At least he wasn't dull. Then again, he wasn't likely to show up due to some rivalry with Warren's father. Annoying, but there it was. In fact, he was almost hoping for something bad to happen, as long as it was interesting. Anything to distract himself from all the men – and especially young women – who apparently wanted to sleep with him. Pick-up lines which referred to angels were never funny, less so the more times he heard them. It made him want to scream, and he knew his father could tell, because Warren Senior started to pick his way through the crowd towards his son.

But then there were actual screams outside, and Warren nearly spilt his drink. He set it down on a tray and glanced at his father, before heading for the window to see what was happening. Before he got there, something smashed through the glass, and several people screamed as they ran out of the way. The party-crasher (literally) rolled to his-or-her feet, a gun in each hand, and aimed at random people in the crowd. Warren wished he was closer to his father – or at least not in the gunman's line of sight – so that he could… _do something_. If the gunman couldn't see him, at least Warren would have the element of surprise. If he was closer to his father, he could have shielded him.

"This is a hostage situation!" the stranger shouted. Definitely a man's voice. "There are more people outside! Get into a corner and sit down. Now!"

The party-goers did the sensible thing of following his instructions. Warren chose not to.

"Can we talk about this?" he asked. The gunman's head turned his way; but before he could reply, a man appeared behind him, right out of thin air.

"I think you killed me two days ago, right?" he said. The gunman swung around, and took a step back when he saw… whoever it was. "Yeah, I thought so. By the way, you should've been faster. Like me." He cocked his head. "Your buddies are all down. Just you left to go. Aw, sugar, I'm sure if you weren't wearing that mask you'd look like you've seen a ghost. Thing is, I don't stay dead. Do you? Wanna find out?"

"D-Deadpool—"

"You _do_ remember me!" Shit. Warren had heard of Deadpool. This was him? "Let's see if we can do whole role reversal thing. Last time we met you stabbed me right through the chest. Only question is, which katana to use?"

"No!" Warren said firmly, shucking his jacket as he moved forward. "No one's killing anyone else here."

"You gonna fight me, pretty boy?" the gunman said, although he sounded much less confident than before, now that he no longer had the upper hand.

"Dad, call the police!" Warren said. Deadpool leaned back slightly.

"Are those wings?" he said, craning his head to see.

"You're a _mutant_?" the gunman said. Warren ran at him. Before the man could take a shot, Warren swept him up and flew to the highest part of the ceiling, close to the chandelier.

"Put the safeties on," he said. Shaking, the gunman complied. "Put them in your pockets, or wherever they were." He obeyed. "Good. I think we should just hang around up here until the cops arrive, don't you? Keep you away from Deadpool?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"Did you know whose party you were gate-crashing?"

"N-no."

"Do you know who I am now?"

"…Yes, sir."

"Good. Be thankful it was me you inconvenienced, and not the Avengers. I hear the Black Widow can get pretty mean. Hell, Pepper Potts can get mean, as well. We need more scary ladies around here, I'm thinking."

The cops had already been on their way, so it was less than a minute before they stormed into the room, startling the rest of the guests. Warren flew back down and handed the gunman over to the police, who stripped him of his weapons and then led him out the door. Warren looked at his father, who nodded to let him know that he was okay, and then he hurried over to Deadpool, who was heading for the window.

"Hey, um… Deadpool?"

He turned on his heel and Warren nearly ran into him.

"Hi!" Deadpool chirped.

"Uh… where are you going?"

"Away. That's my thing. I come, I kill, then I split."

"But… but you said my words." Deadpool tilted his head. "My soul-words. I was just wondering… did I say yours?"

"You surely did, angel."

"Oh." Warren doubted that this man's writing was so fancy, but he wasn't passing up the chance. Just in case. "Can I see your soulmark?"

Deadpool clapped a hand to his chest. "In front of all these people? Stop, you're making me blush."

"We can disappear for a couple of minutes," Warren said. "Someone has to clean up all the glass. In fact I'm pretty sure the party is over now. Follow me?"

"Okay," Deadpool said, shrugging. "Only don't blame me when you scream after you see my body."

Warren led Deadpool out of the room. He glanced at his father again, saw the moment Warren Senior realised what was happening, and turned his eyes away again, worried about what he'd see there. He took Deadpool to a deserted hallway, then pulled him closer. He couldn't see behind the mask, and he raised a hand to pull it away. Deadpool jerked back.

"You're perfect," he said. "Gorgeous. Those eyes, for a start. I think aliens in space could see how blue they are." Warren ducked his head, embarrassed by the compliment. "Your cheekbones could cut glass. That black vest you're wearing does way too much to show your abs, really, and those arms of yours. I'm sure you have many other nice qualities, but I needed to point out how hot you are, because you're too pretty for me."

"You don't like pretty people?" Warren said, backing off a step. Goddamnit, his soulmate turned out to be interesting, and _definitely_ not an upper class snob… well, his possible-soulmate, anyway, and he didn't like Warren because he was apparently too attractive. What the hell?

"I love pretty people," Deadpool said. "They're shiny. And no one calls you 'angel' because of your wings, trust me."

"…Then why—"

"This." Deadpool pulled off his mask. His skin was littered with scars. "I'm like this all over. I was a science experiment… anyway—"

"Show me your soulmark," Warren said. Deadpool wasn't… attractive, exactly, by most people's standards, but at least he looked interesting. Warren had never seen anyone like him before, and he wanted… he wanted to _know_. "Please?"

Deadpool paused, then replaced his mask. Warren's shoulders slumped against his will, and he fought not to look too disappointed when Deadpool turned around. But then his possible-soulmate drew down a zip at the back of his costume, and Warren saw the words of a soulmark in the middle of Deadpool's back. He parted the material, both eager and sure, and was overwhelmed with relief when he saw his own writing.

"It's you," he said breathlessly. "You're my soulmate. This is… this is my handwriting. It's _you_." He threw his arms around Deadpool's middle and held him close, their marks separated only by the fabric of Warren's vest. He'd had it made so that no one could see his soulmark by accident. Now he didn't have to worry anymore, because he'd _found_ his soulmate!

"I'm sorry," Deadpool said.

"What's your name?" Warren asked.

"Wade Wilson. In fact, my initials are three Ws."

"My initials are the same as yours," he said. "Warren Worthington. It's nice to finally meet you, Wade."

"But…"

"But what? If you… aren't interested…" He dropped his arms and moved back. "I'll understand. I'm just glad you're nothing like I imagined."

"You imagined worse than me?" Wade said. Okay, _now_ he sounded incredulous.

"See this?" Warren said, raising his vest. Wade turned around. "Is it your writing?" Wade nodded, his marred cheeks turning pink. "When I found out I had the x-gene, that my mutation was _wings_, I was worried about what my mark would mean. That kind of writing, we were sure my soulmate was someone upper-class who'd be disgusted by… by these." He jerked his thumb to indicate his wings. "But I couldn't take the cure. Even if my soulmate was a grade-A asshole, Fate made us for each other."

"I'm the most annoying person you'll ever meet," Wade said.

"I don't care."

"My whole body looks like a squashed avocado… except less green."

"I don't _care_."

"Sometimes I break the fourth wall because the things they did to me made me insane—"

"I don't care, Wade! Do you think my wings are hideous?"

Wade shook his head, stroking one of Warren's feathers absently, sending a shiver up his spine. "I think they're the most beautiful things I've ever seen."

"Then you're already better than I hoped," Warren said, a lump in his throat. "`Cause I thought no one would ever accept them."

"But they're part of you," Wade said, frowning.

"Everyone has flaws they wanna get rid of."

"These definitely aren't flaws." Wade couldn't stop petting them. "They're gifts."

Now less worried, Warren stepped forward while Wade was distracted by the 'shiny'.

"Please?" he whispered. Wade met his eyes, which widened when he saw how close Warren was. But he didn't back off. "Don't turn me away. Please, Wade?"

There was a pause, which seemed to stretch on forever. Warren was on the point of turning away when Wade pounced on him. He seemed to realise quickly that there was something hampering the way, and tore off his mask again. Then Warren was kissing him back, relieved once again, and held onto his soulmate tightly.

* * *

**Thought that was as good a place as any to stop. I've gotta stop making the Wade chapters so angsty, though. Actually, they're mostly fine. I've paired Wade with more people than I think I have, and there's usually at least some light-heartedness.**

**So! This was partly inspired by how gorgeous Deadpool's handwriting is supposed to be, and the fact that they have the same initials. All those Ws…**

**Please review!**


	115. Aviation Day (Bucky x Fitz x Sam)

**Note: Mild spoilers for post-credit scene in 'Ant-Man'.**

"Aviation Day"

"Whoa, hold it," Steve said, keeping his hands on Bucky. "He's done, but he's gotta get out first." He looked over his shoulder. "This was a great idea, Sam. Thanks."

"You're welcome," Sam said, though he couldn't take his eyes off Bucky. The former (he hoped) Winter Soldier stared back, his breathing shallow. Either that or very controlled, because his chest barely moved, and Sam couldn't remember seeing him blink at all in the last few minutes.

"Okay," Steve said. A tiny flying ant passed Bucky's arm, although it was hard to tell whether Scott Lang had actually managed to get out. But Steve's super senses couldn't be beaten, and within seconds Ant-Man was back to human size. He patted Bucky on the arm fearlessly.

"You're good to go, pal," he said. "I removed some nasty bugs hidden in there while I was at it."

"But you're a nice bug," Steve said, and Sam pursed his lips as Scott glanced at him, eyes twinkling.

"Thanks," Scott said.

"Don't mention it."

"_Ever_," Sam muttered. Scott saluted them, took one last look at Bucky and his arm, and then left the room.

"Will you be okay here with Sam?" Steve said. "I'm just gonna see Lang out safely."

"And probably offer him a place in the Avengers," Sam said. "I'm beginning to feel less special the more people you add, you know that, right?"

Steve grinned, and he jogged after Ant-Man. Being alone with Bucky was awkward, and Sam hated not knowing what to do. He'd never encountered this kind of case before, not if Bucky's memories were still patchy.

"Sorry," Bucky rasped. He straightened up with a slight wince, probably from being bent over for God knows how long. "Think I… tore your wing?"

"You remember that," Sam said.

"Did it really happen?"

"It did. Then you kicked me off the side of the building."

Bucky looked at the ground, flexing his left arm. "'m sorry. Didn't know…"

"You didn't know what you were doing, and I understand that," Sam said. He reached out gingerly, not wanting to hurt or startle Bucky, and rested a hand on his shoulder. "It sucked, what happened to you, and we're gonna do everything we can to make sure it doesn't happen again. We'll protect you, James, okay?"

He blinked. "You called me James."

"Would you prefer—?"

"No, naw," Bucky said. "No one's called me that in… I can't remember how long."

"That's okay," Sam said, and he grinned. Bucky smiled back unsurely. "I can't remember the last time someone called me Samuel. And that's _not_ an invitation."

"How's it going in here?" Steve said, and Sam almost regretted the interruption. "Let's get you somewhere safe, yeah?"

Bucky nodded, and he allowed Sam and Steve help him out to the car. They drove to the new base; it was remote, it was superhero-proof, and there was plenty of space. Bucky seemed to like sticking his head out the window, his longish hair blowing back, and Sam kept getting distracted by this. It was a damn good thing Steve was driving.

"Hope you'll like the place," Sam said. Bucky glanced at him; those eyes must've been devastating on the women back in the day, but working as an assassin for decades had trained them to harden when he analysed something, and the way he stared at Sam was unnerving. Not as bad as it could've been, all things considered, but he still felt like Bucky was looking right through him.

"Doesn't matter," Bucky said. "S'long as you're there."

Sam knew he was talking to Steve, but he'd definitely be there for Bucky as much as he could, and not just to counsel him.

It was evening by the time they arrived, since it'd taken a few hours to track down Scott, then convince him to help, and then there was the drive. Bucky didn't want to meet anyone else, not even Romanov, so they took him straight to his room. As with all the rooms, it was monitored. So when Sam was alerted that Bucky was distressed, he ran to the soldier's room, where Steve was trying to hold Bucky down. There was blood on him, but Steve looked untouched.

"He's hurt himself," Steve said grimly. "And he won't calm down enough to let me look at it."

"Nightmare," Sam said, stating the obvious. He knelt on Bucky's other side, letting Steve hold his arms down, and stroked Bucky's hair back. "Did his mom ever sing him to sleep? Did he have a favourite song?"

"I don't… think we'll need that," Steve said. Bucky had settled, and Sam began to take his hand away. When the soldier grew upset again, he resumed stroking Bucky's hair, and that calmed him down. Almost like petting a scared dog. (He kept that thought to himself.) "Bucky, you'll have to let me look at this. Damn, you tore right through your shirt. We'd better get you cleaned up so I can see."

"They were… they were try-na make me…"

"They can't hurt you here," Steve said. "Not while we're here, Bucky, not while Sam an' I are here."

"Stay." Bucky gripped the front of Sam's shirt. "Don't let `em…"

"We won't." Sam kept running his fingers through Bucky's hair. "We're here, Bucky."

"Let's get him into the shower," Steve said. Between them, they got Bucky out of bed and into the bathroom. Steve unbuttoned the shirt and Sam helped Bucky extract his arms before pulling the material down. He noticed black marks on the man's back, and thought for a moment that they were nasty bruises from something, perhaps machinery in the factory. It was when he took a closer look out of concern that his heart leapt into his throat, and he gently rubbed the back of Bucky's shoulders.

"I can take it from here," he said. Steve's brow furrowed.

"What d'you mean?" he asked.

Sam traced a finger along Bucky's soulmark – one of two, he presumed – and Bucky gasped softly, before twisting his neck to look at Sam.

"Not too keen on you seeing my soulmate in the buff," he said. Steve's mouth fell open, and Sam gave Bucky a meek smile. "We were kinda busy when we 'met'. I didn't realise `til I saw this." He touched the words again, and Bucky shivered. "Got a second mark?"

"Y-yeah. Took awhile to remember what they meant. I didn't realise, either…" He tensed as he looked at Steve. "What I did…" He turned to face Sam. "I could've killed you. I almost did!"

"Relax," Sam said, stroking his shoulders. "Important thing is you didn't. And I haven't met our soulmate, so they're still alive."

"You haven't?"

"Not yet. Maybe we'll find them together?"

Bucky gave Steve a quick look, and then tentatively stepped closer to Sam.

"I'll be okay, Steve," he said. "I wanna see Sam's soulmark, and I don't think I want you seein' my soulmate in the nude, either."

With a bemused sigh, Steve nodded, and he left them alone. The door was barely closed before Bucky was on him, and Sam found himself in charge of getting a many-handed former assassin into the shower without any more clothes being torn.

* * *

Leo Fitz slumped with relief. He'd been ambitious, breaking into an old SHIELD facility in hopes of finding something which could help him break Jemma out. He should've at least told the others about it and asked for their help. He knew he'd be in for a thorough chewing out from Hunter and Mack and Skye when he got back to base, and Coulson as well if the Avengers found out that he was alive.

"Thank you," he said, nearly falling into the Winter Soldier's arms. He tried not to get distracted by the metal prosthesis, but that just left staring at Bucky Barnes's face, which was even more distracting. The man blinked at him.

"No problem," he said.

"Bring him over here!" Iron Man called. The Winter Soldier chivvied Fitz into Tony Stark's arms, then ran past to the Falcon. "Let's get you back to Coulson."

"You know he's alive?" Fitz said.

"You're not the only genius around here. Of course I figured it out."

Considering that they shot into the air only seconds later, Fitz resisted the urge to ask just when Mr. Stark managed to find out that Coulson was alive. No fun if he fell to his death pissing off Iron Man, not to mention completely embarrassing. And he hadn't met his soulmates yet, as far as he could remember. It was easy enough to miss 'No problem', but he was sure no one's first words to him had ever been 'Take care of yourself now, and don't fall out'. In fact, he'd never heard those at all, unless that was something else the brain damage had stolen from him.

"Here you are," Iron Man said, leaving Fitz on the ramp of a `jet with the Stark Industries logo on the side. How discreet. "We're meeting your people halfway, t-minus two minutes. Hang on tight."

Fitz could only nod, and grab hold of a strap while he tried not to look over the edge. Too many bad memories associated with falling through the sky.

"Good to see you again, Fitz," Clint Barton said, clapping him on the back. "Thought HYDRA wiped out most of the academy?"

"Wasn't there at the time!" Fitz said over the noise of the engines. He saw on the radar how close they were to whoever was meeting them. He certainly recognised their own aircraft. "Weaver did her best, I heard, but not many of us…"

"From any of the divisions," Barton said, and he tugged Fitz over to a seat. "What the hell were you doing?"

"Simmons is gone," he said, now able to speak at a better volume. He noticed the way the Falcon and the Winter Soldier were linking their fingers casually. "Swallowed up in a… a big r-rock thing. I was trying to find something to… to…"

"I get it," Barton said. "We'll do whatever we can to help, but no more of the solo heroics when you're not a field agent, okay?"

"Fewer people there are—"

"The more casualties can pile up. You're not invincible."

"I know." He knew it all too well. "Thanks for the rescue. It was just… me." He shrugged. "Not worth wasting your time on—"

"Coulson asked. Least we could do for him since he…" Barton glanced up. "Nearly there. Tell the asshole it's not the last he'll hear from us."

"I… I don't have to say that exactly, do I? He's my boss."

"…Fitz."

"Er, I'll paraphrase."

"You do that."

They drew up beside the plane, and Fitz was oddly reminded of the bus. His heart clenched for a second. But Hunter was there, throwing a line to him, and Barton caught it before Fitz could even reach out. He handed the end to Fitz, who wound it around his wrist, nervously clutching onto the side of the plane.

"You okay?" Barton said. Fitz exhaled slowly, and nodded. "Someone will catch you if anyone goes wrong. I promise."

"I k-know."

"Take care of yourself now, and don't fall out," the Falcon said. Fitz told himself to man up in front of the superheroes, and began to walk forwards. He saw Hunter tightening his grip on his end of the line…

Then it hit him. He looked over his shoulder, slack-jawed.

"That's impossible," he said, staring at the Falcon.

A bit of poorly-timed turbulence nearly threw him out of the plane. Fitz dropped the line and caught hold of the side of the plane instead, and he was hauled back by Barton, before being pulled out of his grasp by the Winter Soldier.

"You thanked me," he said.

"You said 'No problem'," Fitz replied, dumbfounded. The Falcon grinned.

"Damn, and I thought you'd be referring to my wings," he said. "Should I be flattered that this is 'impossible'?"

"Y-yeah." Fitz swallowed. "Definitely flattered. I mean…" His gaze trailed down both men's bodies. "I can't believe it. You're… you're superheroes."

"And you're a Stark-level genius. You're the only one who's s'posed to be intimidated?"

"You're our soulmate," Barnes said. "Fuck, I didn't see this coming."

"Considering it's Aviation Day, this is strangely appropriate," Barton muttered.

* * *

**I was hoping to have more time to spend on this, but I've been to a professional development thing today, so I've been out longer than usual. In fact, I'm going to have to edit this in document manager, because I have to swap laptops. Seriously need a better system. At least I've got tomorrow off.**

**Please review!**


	116. Mistaken Identity (JohnnyxPhilxSteve)

"Mistaken Identity"

Well, this wasn't at _all_ awkward.

It started when Phil, Mike, and Hunter finally picked up Fitz. They needed someplace they could actually sleep, and the plane they'd stolen wasn't exactly comfortable, nor the car they'd stolen. (And Phil really was going to have to work out a way to reimburse the salesman, even though he probably rorted at least that amount in one week from over-pricing his cars.) So they stayed where they could, usually a dingy motel where they wouldn't be caught dead under other circumstances, with beds just comfortable enough for a decent sleep.

For once, they'd managed to find a nice place, after a trip to a casino where an old friend of Phil's won some cash for them. It turned out that Gambit had a grudge against the owner, so he was happy to help in exchange for a drink and a new pack of cards. Phil left him chatting with the other three while he went to the bar for snacks. There, he ran into an all-too-familiar face.

Steve Rogers raised his eyebrows, clearly waiting for an explanation.

"If you give me an hour, I'll tell you everything," Phil said.

He wasn't prepared to be dragged into a dark corner and then have the daylights kissed out of him, especially by Captain America. Unsure, he clung onto the captain's upper arms lightly, wondering why the hell this was happening but unable to complain. One of his arms slipped around Phil's back and pulled him closer, and there was a point of warmth where one of Phil's soulmarks was… _oh_.

It was disappointing when, a couple of minutes later, there was an insistent buzzing from his phone. He had to detangle himself to answer it, and wondered at the captain being so affectionate – and so much warmer than Phil remembered – as he wrapped himself around Phil from behind.

"Been waiting so long to find you," he murmured, and Phil smiled at the confirmation that they were soulmates.

"I'm sorry it took awhile," he said, accessing his message.

"Doesn't matter, now I've got you. What's up?"

"My team is checking on me. You're one hell of a distraction; no wonder they're asking whether I'm okay."

"It's nice that you have a team which cares so much about you."

Phil turned his head, noting the bitterness in his soulmate's voice. "Your team cares about you, too."

"You haven't even _met_ my team," he replied.

Suspicious, Phil slipped his phone into his pocket, having sent a quick reply to say that he was still alive.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Hi." The man – it _wasn't_ Steve Rogers, was it? – shook Phil's hand. "I'm Johnny Storm, one quarter of the Fantastic Four. If we're even still that, considering…" He shrugged it off, and smiled at Phil. "So what's your name?"

"…Phil Coulson."

"Huh. I recognise the name." His eyebrows furrowed, and Phil looked at his feet, now feeling incredibly embarrassed. "Wait. Coulson. Something to do with the Avengers, am I right? You… you thought I was Captain America, didn't you?"

"The Avengers think I'm dead, hence my first words to you," Phil said, glancing at Johnny's face. "I wasn't expecting to see any superheroes at all, and I thought they'd finally caught up to me. Not an unreasonable assumption. I wasn't expecting…" He touched his lips, and he could feel how hot his cheeks were. "I should've known something was up. Captain Rogers wouldn't have jumped me like that. You and I have never met, though I remember hearing something about the resemblance."

"I haven't met the good captain yet," Johnny said. "But I've seen comparisons online."

"Sir, what's going on?"

Phil twisted around to look at Hunter. "My soulmate. Johnny Storm."

"The Human Torch?" Hunter said, eyes widening. He held out a hand, and Johnny shook it. "Pleasure to meet you, mate. You coming with us?"

"I think we can afford to spend another night here, if HYDRA doesn't find us first," Phil said. Johnny stepped up closer behind him.

"If they do, I'll fry `em for you," he said. "Just say the word."

Remembering 'Scorch', the first time they'd heard of Raina, Phil had to suppress a shudder. His soulmate was a fire-wielder; he couldn't be put off by a few bad memories.

"Thank you," he said.

"They're not getting my soulmate, even though you thought I was Captain America while I was kissing you. I guess we'll have to try again now that you know who I am."

Hunter arched an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

"I'll tell the others, then?" he said.

"No, we'll join you," Johnny said. "If that's okay with you, Phil?"

Like he could stop it. Like he _wanted_ to. "Absolutely fine."

* * *

After Fury had mentioned something to Tony about a friend not being as dead as they'd thought, the billionaire had gotten stuck into finding out whatever he could, see whether it was their mutual friend, the one they'd all fought for when they thought…

Suffice to say, Tony was able to track him down, although it was Steve who led the way into battle when he saw what was happening. The Avengers had barely any interaction with SHIELD as they fought off the wave of attackers coming from one side, while Phil Coulson's SHIELD took on an ambush from the other. It was over soon, and Steve heard the others chatting on the comms about who should approach the new incarnation of SHIELD first. Sick of the talk and no action, he strode up to Agent Coulson – who, admittedly, wore a tac suit very well – and tapped him on the shoulder.

Coulson turned around, and relaxed when he saw who it was.

"I wasn't expecting you so soon, but I'm glad you're here," he said.

_What_?

After a surprise like that, Steve could barely speak. His words, the ones which appeared only a handful of days after the battle of New York. Coulson hadn't been his soulmate before, but was it possible…?

Well, there was at least one way to find out. Coulson looked expectant, and his head tilted to the side. As good an invitation as any, Steve figured, so he ducked his head and kissed his probable-soulmate. Coulson – no, Phil, Steve should use his first name – responded with speed and enthusiasm, at least for a few seconds, before he pulled back abruptly, and stared at Steve with what could only be described as horror.

"Problem?" he asked. "I thought it was going pretty well."

"Oh my God," Co— Phil muttered. "This can't be happening. A_gain_?"

"Phil?"

Steve looked over his shoulder, and his jaw damn near dropped when he saw his own doppelganger. What the hell? He was in a tight blue suit, full-body, with a patch on it which had the number four… wait. Was this Johnny Storm? Shit.

"Johnny," Phil said. "I…"

"You thought he was me?" Storm – definitely him, then – walked over to them, and Steve saw a glow at his fingertips.

"Well, you have a habit of swooping in and kissing me," Phil said. "And I wasn't expecting…" He glanced around. "The Avengers?"

"You never do," Storm said, and he looked Steve up and down. He opened his mouth, but Phil grabbed his arm.

"There's a simple explanation," he said.

"For Captain America to kiss you without your permission?"

"You know, I could make a pot and kettle comparison right here, right now. What was _your_ first reaction when I said…?" Phil trailed off, and Johnny's eyes widened. He looked Steve over again, but less hostilely this time.

"Are you our soulmate?" he said.

Shit. That could be considered extremely awkward. "Apparently so?" he said.

The sudden kiss from Johnny was surprising, and Steve closed his eyes so it'd feel less like he was kissing his clone. That's the kind of thing Tony would do. He realised immediately why Phil would've known there was something different. Johnny was several degrees warmer than Steve, and his kisses were far from demure. Steve had been a lot more tentative, and with good reason. No wonder Phil had reacted positively; he thought he was kissing his soulmate. His other soulmate, that is.

"You're thinking, which means I'm not doing this right," Johnny murmured against Steve's lips.

"Doin' just fine," Steve said, cheeks heating up. "Surprised, that's all."

"And _you_," Johnny continued, looking at Phil, who seemed far too distracted. "You have a bad habit of kissing someone while thinking it's someone else."

"At least I worked out it was the wrong person much sooner this time," Phil said.

"You'll have to kiss Steve again, now that you know he's not me."

"I guess so," he said, sighing as his gaze ran up and down Steve's body. "What a chore."

"And such a chore for me to watch," Johnny added, leaning on Phil's shoulder. Steve heard a clicking and whirring sound, and noticed that Phil's left hand was robotic. When did _that_ happen? "Better get it over with."

"If it's alright with the captain," Phil said. Steve blinked rapidly, and realised they were waiting for an answer.

"Yes," he blurted out. "As long as I can watch… the two of you as well."

"DC, is your other soulmate _Steve Rogers_?" a young woman said over the comms.

"Mmm-hmm."

"Lucky son of a bitch," someone else added.

"May!" Phil hissed. "Super-hearing, remember? And since when do you swear?"

"Or say much at all?" Johnny said. Steve felt out of place, and waved half-heartedly at his fellow Avengers, who were all waiting nearby. They probably wanted to talk to Phil as well, those who'd known him before.

"Steve, why don't you tell your people to rendezvous with my team?" Phil said, pointing towards another group. "Maybe they can help clear up while we talk?"

"Good idea," Steve said, and he swiftly relayed the instructions while Johnny crowded closer to Phil, who leaned into his warmth. He stuttered a bit when his soulmates rubbed noses, the scene so tender that he didn't know whether he had any right to invade it, no matter what Fate said. But after he was done, Phil held out a hand, and Steve took hold.

"I think the three of us need to have a long talk," Phil said.

"Kissing first," Johnny said. "Priorities here, okay?"

He rolled his eyes, but nodded. "I agree. If you have no objections, Steve, may I kiss you now, _without_ the issue of mistaken identity?"

Steve nodded eagerly.

* * *

**Ship was requested by ozhawk, and V-bird suggested a story where Phil is kissing Johnny, under the impression that it's Steve he's kissing. It turned into this. I hope it wasn't absolutely terrible, but I haven't done as much writing and posting lately as I ought to have done, so I'm trying to make up for it. I've been working on a couple of WIPs, which I don't want to post until I've finished them.**

**Please review!**


	117. Rule Britannia (Hawley x Weaver, DLxPM)

**Note: Yeah, not warning for spoilers for 'Agents of SHIELD' finale anymore.**

"Rule Britannia"

Phil tried not to fidget as Agent Weaver arched an eyebrow.

"The last time we advised you and you followed our advice, Gonzales ended up dead," she reminded him.

"On the other hand, it might've been me," he said.

"On the _other_ hand, you might have handled the situation differently and lived."

"Then I wouldn't have this little baby," he said, waving the fingers on his robotic prosthetic hand. "It's shiny. I'm thinking of carrying a Sharpie around with me so I can make notes on it, and just wipe them off later. Or one of those magnetic notebooks and a magnetic pen, which I can stick on until I need to use them."

"Don't get carried away, Coulson," she said, twisted in her roller chair. "It was only a casual suggestion, to bring the last member of the World Security Council on board. Do you really think it's a good idea?"

"You suggested it," he said.

"Yes. _Casually_. I'm your only advisor left, unless you genuinely think a bouquet of chocolate roses will draw Nicholas Fury back to SHIELD."

"All the men on the councils seem to die first," Phil said. In hindsight, it sounded a bit flippant. The look Weaver gave him hinted that she shared that feeling. "It must be Fate, the two of you being the only ones left. I'm sure you and Councilwoman Hawley will get along well."

"And you wouldn't prefer to have a man on the council, so there's a male perspective?"

He hummed, and twirled around in his seat simply because he _could_. The perks of being the director of SHIELD. "Well, I'm male, so I can provide that perspective myself. And put it this way: the WSC, and then the council I created here, were both male-heavy. In my case, it was because I had limited resources. In the WSC's case, it was undoubtedly because we live in a patriarchal society. SHIELD's never been run by a woman before; the closest we got was Peggy Carter. Now, I don't mean to sound sexist in _any_ way—"

"Which means you're about to be," she said.

"No," he said. "I'm saying _look_ at what SHIELD became, and look at the way it's been going since I started to rebuild it without the advice of others. What if a woman's touch is what's been missing? Nick Fury left SHIELD in my hands, and I know I want to make it an organisation Captain America could be proud of. I _also_ know that more people will follow a man in authority than they would a woman in authority. I'm not one of those people, however, which is why I want both you and Councilwoman Hawley as my advisors. We can add other people in time, and I'd like Fury to be a consultant when possible. I'm still in contact with Maria Hill, and I get May's advice. I'll still get the last say, as director, but the more perspectives there are examining a situation, the easier it could be to make a decision which keeps everyone safe. If we'd been more careful, maybe Simmons wouldn't have…" He paused, and Weaver's face reflected his own internal anguish. "I'll invite the councilwoman to the base. Will you be there to meet her?"

"Of course," Weaver said quietly. "My other suggestion was that you contact the Avengers."

He winced. "Fury told me that he'd hinted to Stark—"

"You're the one who's known the truth all along," she said.

"Not the whole truth."

"No, but you're the one who's been keeping it secret from them. If you send them a message, the ball will be in their court. If they found out themselves that you were alive, don't you think they'd assume that you didn't want to see them?"

"That's because I… I…"

She cleared her throat. "You _don't_ want to see them? I find that hard to believe. They were your project… _one_ of your projects. You were supposed to be their handler."

"That was just a rumour," Phil said, shrugging.

"Really?"

"Yes. I'd handed in my resignation to Fury after the results from Project TAHITI, and I was serving out my two weeks' notice when I…" He rubbed the scar on his chest. "It was never going to be me. I don't actually matter anything to the Avengers, even though Lady Sif said that Thor considered me a friend. I barely knew him, and they all have trust issues…" He narrowed his eyes. "What if Stark didn't get the hint? He'd have no reason to think it was me Fury was referring to. What if they thought it was a hoax and attacked the base—"

"That hardly seems likely," she remarked. "Am I to assume that you refuse to tell the Avengers that you're alive?"

"…You mean it, don't you?"

"One hundred percent."

He heaved a sigh. "Okay. I'll get Skye to find Pepper Potts' new number… or…" His gaze wandered. "Actually, I know _exactly _who to tell first."

* * *

Darcy was bopping along to her iPod as she sat across the table from Jane, occasionally kicking her boss's leg under the table to remind her to eat. It didn't help when Thor was there, and the two of them were making eyes at each other. Darcy hummed along with the music between sips of soda, and played with the remainders of her spaghetti and meatballs. She twined a few cold strands around her fork, then decided against it.

Her music stopped suddenly, and she frowned. She'd just charged this last night! How could the battery possibly be drained by now…?

"What?" she said. Jane started to explain something, and Darcy waved it off. "No, someone's hacked into my iPod. Oh, Stark is a dead man if this is his idea of a joke. _No_ one messes with my baby, not even SH… uh, jack-booted thugs." They never knew whether a SHIELD witch-hunter was nearby or not. At least she had everyone's full attention, which was a miracle. "There's a message… huh?" She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and squinted, trying to force the words to make sense. "'The Son of Coul is alive'. What does that even _mean_…? Thor?"

Thor had dropped his cutlery, and was staring at her. "Son of Coul?"

"Yeah, that's what it says. See?" She showed him the screen, and he leaned closer to see it. The air crackled around them, and thunderclouds appeared. Darcy quickly retracted her arm, and glanced nervously at the sky. "Could you call off the bad weather, buddy?"

"Son of Coul," Selvig repeated. "As in… Agent _Coulson_?"

"Huh." Made sense. "I guess so. I thought he died?"

"Apparently we were lied to," Thor said, his voice deepening. Thunder rumbled in the distance, an echo of his anger. "We must inform Stark so that he can trace this message to its original source."

"Why would someone tell _me_?" Darcy said. "Hey, can we focus on that before we get soaked through?" Jane poked Thor. "I don't think that worked."

"No," Jane said. "Here's Thor's phone. Can you call Mr. Stark?"

"Sure thing, boss lady," Darcy said, accepting the fancy-shmancy new tech. "Wow. I've gotta get me one of these."

"Darcy?"

"I'm going, I'm going." She stuffed her iPod into her pocket and retreated to the café entrance. She sifted through Thor's contact list until she found 'Man of Iron'. She hit the call button and lifted the phone to her ear, flinching at the crack of lightning which made every else jump.

"Hello, who is this?"

That _definitely_ didn't sound like Tony Stark. But the voice in the background, shouting about getting their phone back, sounded more like the billionaire.

"Please tell me you didn't steal this phone?" she said. There was a short gasp, and then whichever European-sounding guy had answered called out to someone else.

"Wanda, it worked! I found my soulmate!"

"Soulmate?" She blinked rapidly, and glanced at the table. Jane was trying to distract Thor, and the storm clouds were receding, so it was probably working. "Uh, I'm Darcy Lewis? I wanted to talk to Tony Stark?"

"Okay, wait a moment," her soulmate said, and she heard one indignant 'Hey!' from him before a more familiar voice spoke.

"That you, Thor?"

"You've got a ring-tone just for him?" Darcy said. "That's so cute!"

"This wouldn't happen to be Darcy Lewis, would it?"

"Yep," she said. "Before I beg for my soulmate's actual phone number, Thor told me to tell you that I got this message on my iPod which says 'The Son of Coul is alive'. He thinks it's means Agent iPod Thief, and that you should trace the message…"

"Uh-huh." She heard something like tapping in the background. "Going in now. Okay, I found the message. I'll trace it. Heigh-ho, Silver, talk to your soulmate."

After a moment, the European accent was back, and Darcy melted against the wall.

* * *

Whoever was flying the `jet was damn good at floating landings. The ramp opened, and out stepped the elegant councilwoman. He walked up to her, and they shook hands.

"It's an honour to have you aboard, Madam Councilwoman," he said. "Is that how I address you? We never got the chance to—"

"Councilwoman Hawley is fine," she said. "I've heard much about you, Coulson."

"Good or bad?" he asked.

"That would be telling."

He grinned. "I like you already. Thank you so much for agreeing to talk to me about a new council—"

"As long as it was worth making the trip to a physical base," she said. "Last time that happened my three colleagues were killed, and it was through Agent Romanov's intervention that I'm still alive. You brought her in, didn't you?"

"It was Barton," Phil said. "I just seconded his decision."

"Mmm-hmm?"

Now off-balance, Phil led Councilwoman Hawley to the small group he'd brought onto the deck with him.

"This is Melinda May, my second in command," he said. They shook hands, and Phil wondered whether it was just his imagination playing tricks on him, or whether the two women really were sizing each other up. "Barbara Morse, who's here…"

"Temporarily," Bobbi said, shaking the councilwoman's hand. "I'm currently covering for a missing agent."

"And this is Agent Weaver from the science academy, currently my only senior advisor."

"_Senior _advisor?" Weaver said. "You make me sound old."

"Not at all."

Weaver rolled her eyes, and held out her hand to the councilwoman. "A pleasure to meet you at last. I only regret the circumstances."

Phil watched Councilwoman Hawley as she studied Weaver, then slowly shook her hand.

"I see this _was_ worth my while," she murmured. Weaver's lips parted.

"Oh," she said. "Right. This was perhaps one of my better ideas." She half-smiled. "It _is_ lovely to meet you."

It wasn't hard to connect the dots. Phil weighed up his options, and decided that it would be better to get Weaver and Hawley into privacy than shoo off Bobbi and May, especially since Bobbi was still on crutches. Weaver swiftly dismissed him, and he hoped she was leading the councilwoman somewhere safe.

"Well," Bobbi said after they'd left. "You think she's gonna be staying?"

"Either that or Agent Weaver will leave us," Phil said. "I hope Councilwoman Hawley still has Skype."

"Uh, DC?" Skye came running up to him. "One, why did I catch Weaver _giggling like a schoolgirl_ with a woman who looks like Councilwoman Hawley?"

"Soulmates," May said.

"Oh."

"What was the second thing, Skye?" Phil asked.

"Tony Stark wants to talk to you. He's on the phone, waiting."

"Tony Stark is waiting for me? Wonders never cease."

"Are you gonna keep him hanging on?"

"Tempting," Phil said. "I'm not at his beck and call. I'll return to my office in my own good time."

"What if Captain America is waiting with him?" Bobbi said.

Damn.

"I'll be in my office if anyone needs me," he muttered.

"One last thing," Skye said. "Darcy Lewis passes on her gratitude. She found her soulmate thanks to that message. It's one of the Avengers, the one named Quicksilver?"

"I'm suddenly _extremely_ glad I'm not their handler."

* * *

"Anne?"

Weaver looked up at her soulmate, who was resting against the pillows, her light hair much less tidy than when they'd left the deck.

"Yes?" she said.

"What do we do now?"

"I don't know," she replied. "I doubt we'll always see eye to eye. The World Security Council wanted to blow up New York—"

"The Avengers were an untried loose canon."

"And you didn't trust SHIELD to trust them." Hawley stayed silent. "I think we have a great deal to talk about. Perhaps we should start with a drink."

"You mean _continue_ with a drink," she corrected, looking Weaver from top to toe, and then back to meet her eyes. "I heard what happened when those… inhuman people infiltrated the base. The last time my colleagues went to a SHIELD base they died. I hate the thought of you being here when it's so dangerous."

"I'm not leaving until we find Simmons," Weaver said firmly. "She was one of my best students, and I won't abandon her."

"…Then we will have to trust the Avengers to find her soon."

* * *

**No idea what Councilwoman Hawley's first name is supposed to be, but I'm pretty sure Weaver's first name is Anne. Writing this on the old laptop, which isn't connected to the internet, so I can't double-check.**

**Anyway. I don't know what made me think of this pairing. As for Darcy/Pietro, that was requested by phoenix_173 and rogueshadow. I was also chastised for not writing enough fem slash, so until I finish the long chapter I'm working on at the moment, this will have to do.**

**Please review, folks!**


	118. I'm Poison (Bucky x Natasha x Skye)

**Note: In case anyone's forgotten from season one, Skye was given the name Mary Sue Poots by the nuns; and since this beginning bit is when she was a child, and from her POV, she's referred to as that.**

"I'm Poison"

Mary Sue Poots had lost track of her foster family. Again. This was family number… thirteen now? She looked around outside the restaurant, wondering where they'd got to, hoping that maybe one day she'd be Mary Sue Somebody's-Surname. Just `cause she didn't fit in was no reason to dump her, though. None of the other families had got rid of her that way; just sent her back to the orphanage, or arranged for her to be sent to another family, who'd just reject her in the end. They always did.

She slumped against the wall with a heartfelt sigh, and gave up looking. If they wanted to find her, they would eventually. As long as she didn't stray far, they'd come back, or get social services to come back for her. Mary Sue hoped she'd at least get to keep the things the Johnsons had bought for her.

Funny. She'd really felt comfortable with this name. Mary Sue Johnson. It felt almost natural to her, the way no others had felt yet. And wasn't thirteen supposed to be a lucky number? Come to think of it, today was Friday the Thirteenth. What if something bad had happened to her temporarily family? Maybe _that's_ why they hadn't found her! And if no one knew where to look for her…

It still didn't explain them disappearing like that, though. Why did they leave?

Why did they _all_ leave? Was it `cause of her words?

There was a clattering sound from down the alleyway, and Mary Sue poked her head around the corner, her eyes widening as she saw someone staggering along. Her heart leapt to her throat, and all the lectures about Stranger Danger came to mind. But this wasn't a big, burly man. Poor lighting from slats in the window of the restaurant's kitchen partially illuminated a definitely female face. She drew back around the corner, and waited for the woman to get closer. Some of the street light leaked into the mouth of the alleyway, and when Mary Sue moved so did her shadow, and the woman stopped where she was. Slightly emboldened, Mary Sue took a closer look, at a pale face, blonde hair streaked with red, right hand clutching her left shoulder, and… _blood_!

"Can I help you?" she said. "I can probably make a bandage outta my socks, or you could keep the pressure on with this." She lifted the corner of her jacket. "Let me get an ambulance?"

The woman shook her head, and backed up against the wall. Mary Sue started forward, but she was waved back. Why? The woman was hurt. She needed to go to a hospital and see a doctor. Wasn't that obvious?

"Don't come near me," the woman said. Her voice was breathy and strained. "Ever. I'm poison, and I'll only drag you down with me."

Mary Sue couldn't believe what she was hearing. Those were the words of her soulmark. One of her soulmarks, that is.

"You're my soulmate?" she said. Sure, as far as she knew she'd been born with her words, at least according to the nuns at the orphanage. But she didn't know her soulmate would be so much older.

"Fucking shield," the woman muttered, and Mary Sue gasped. She knew that was a Bad Word. And besides, the sentence didn't make any sense. "And government officials. Go home, little girl."

"I'm not little!"

"Go find your parents."

"I don't have any." She took a step back. "Not yet, anyway. But I will. I will!"

The woman stared at her, unblinking, and Mary Sue felt nervous.

"I'm Mary Sue Poots. W-who are you?" she asked to break the scary silence.

"No one you'll ever meet again. And if you're lucky you'll never meet our soulmate. Do you have another set of words?" She nodded, and her soulmate shook her head, her breaths growing heavier. "I hope they're not the last thing you ever hear. Maybe if you're lucky the two of us will die, and you'll get someone new." She wasn't looking at Mary Sue anymore. "Good-bye. Good luck."

"Wait!"

But the woman was moving fast, and disappeared into the darkness. Mary Sue returned to the front of the restaurant, and went back inside, needing the light and the warmth to make up for the cold and dark of the alley. And she felt dizzy.

Could she tell anyone about this?

"Mary Sue?"

She whirled around, and saw Mrs. Johnson. Her maybe-mom slumped, hopefully in relief, and held out a hand.

"We lost track of you," she said. "Good girl for staying here. Come on. Let's go ho… back to the house."

"Okay, Mom," she said, taking her hand. Mrs. Johnson didn't reply, but she had that pinched look around her mouth that Mary Sue had seen too often to feel comfortable about. Better to keep what'd happened from the Johnsons, just in case there was still the tiniest chance they'd want to keep her.

* * *

_Many years later_

HYDRA. Skye was sick of them. It was like none of the other bad guys got a chance these days. Skye missed those old days. Now they fought against the neo-Nazis-but-we're-not-really-Nazis on a regular basis (thanks _so_ much, Ward), so they couldn't get anything else done. That was probably the point, but it was annoying nonetheless.

"Oops," Coulson said over the comms.

"What does 'Oops' mean?" Hunter asked. (Well, someone had to ask.)

"The Avengers are here. I have no idea how they found out—"

"I told them," May said.

"…That explains how they knew about the mission, but not how they figured out that I was alive—"

"I told them," Fury chimed in, startling the hell out of Skye. She'd had no idea he was on the scene. "Stark, that is. He alerted the others, I'm guessing."

"Great," Coulson muttered.

"Guys, who's got Fitz's six?" Skye said.

"Getting there," Mack said. "Gimme a…" There were a few shots. "Minute. Okay, I'm on my way. You okay, Turbo?"

"Uh-huh. Um, I think someone's hacking the, uh… the…"

"System?" Skye said.

"Comms," Fitz said. "Well, yeah, the system, too. Obviously. To get to the comms."

"That would be me," Tony Friggin' Stark said, and Skye may've squealed a little. "What was that?"

"Nothing," Skye said quickly.

"You're better at lying than that, Skye," Phil said.

"I'm sending people to your weakest points," Stark said. "Hello, Agent."

"Director," May corrected. Good thing, `cause Skye was suddenly tongue-tied for a number of reasons.

One, Tony Stark. Elaboration unnecessary.

Two, Avengers meant Natasha Romanov, who Skye was convinced was the soulmate she'd met long ago.

Three, she'd heard that Romanov and Bucky Barnes were soulmates. If Avengers meant one, it probably meant the other.

Four, it seemed that Ward had started employing Gifted people as well. One of them was someone Skye had tried to recruit a few weeks ago. Was he already working for HYDRA at the time, or did HYDRA have a better incentives package than SHIELD?

"Crap," she said. "Caleb's here."

"Caleb?" Coulson said. "Caleb the Carver?"

"…We need better nicknames for people."

"Listen, keep well away from him. That goes for _everyone_, Avengers included. He's a dangerous man if he's working for HYDRA. If he…" There was a faint _sching_-ing sound, and he paused. "That works, too. Nice work, Romanov."

There was one fear confirmed. Skye gulped down the feelings which wanted to pour out of her, and fired until she ran out of bullets. If only HYDRA hired ordinary people, instead of people with excellent reflexes. She pinpointed a location which was hopefully clear of civilians, and moved her hands subtly, feeling out the vibrations until she could bring a ton of rubble down on their heads.

"Anyone near the tailor's shop get the hell away from there in the next three seconds," she said through clenched teeth.

"Did you all hear that?" someone else said, a voice Skye vaguely recognised from… from the serials she watched as a kid. Captain America! Of course he was here. Why was she even surprised?

"Acknowledged, captain," Coulson said. "Let go, Skye."

"Roger that," she said, and she winced. "Sorry. Slip of the tongue."

Then she dropped the heap of concrete. No one reported injuries over the comms, so Skye scrabbled in her pocket for more ammunition. Someone settled beside her, and held out a handful of the right ammo. She looked up to thank them, and then realised who the metal arm belonged to.

"Good a day to die as any, don't-cha think?" Bucky Barnes said. Skye gaped at him, probably unattractively, and fumbled with the ammunition.

"I-if that's what turns you on," she mumbled, and she loaded as quickly as she could, registering his sharp inhale. Choosing to ignore this until battle was over, Skye returned her attention to the fight, tuning in to Coulson's instructions. With him and Captain America collaborating, everything ran more smoothly, especially with superheroes on their side. Some of HYDRA still managed to get away, but this time Bobbi and Mack had hit a few with trackers, and Fitz was already following them, chattering with Stark as he did so.

"Are you Mary Sue Poots?" Barnes said. Skye was dusting off her pants, and glanced over at him.

"I was once," she said.

"I think… Natasha will wanna see you."

"Why?"

"Clearly you can take care of yourself," he said. "She's on the side of the good guys now, and so am I." He paused. "Again. We'd met before you did, long before. She doesn't regret staying away from you then, but by the time she was working for SHIELD—"

"She's the reason I hated the government and SHIELD growing up," Skye said. "She hated them, and she was my soulmate, which meant I had no reason to trust them, either. Not that I knew what SHIELD was then; I thought she meant… you know, like Captain America's shield, not the acronym. Then I came across it again, and that's when my vendetta started, and… I'm lucky I got a second chance."

"What's your name now?"

"Skye," she said, and she shrugged. "It's the one I use. Better than the one the nuns gave me. No one ever adopted me, so I got to choose my own, like I can choose my own destiny."

"Do… do your soulmates feature in that destiny?" he asked hesitantly.

"I don't know." She took a step closer to the rendezvous point. "Do you?"

"I think I can speak for both of us when I say yeah, we'd like to."

"I'd rather hear it from the woman who called herself poison," Skye said. "Looks like this won't be the last we see of each other… what do I call you?"

"James?"

"Sergeant Barnes," she said, and his face fell. "See ya later."

"I'll find Natal… Natasha," he said.

"Looks like we all have our pseudonyms." She gave him a pathetic little wave. "Bye."

* * *

Natasha let James hook an arm around her shoulders as they watched Skye from across the restaurant. By a spooky coincidence, it was the same one where she'd met Skye out in the alley, wounded after a hit gone belly-up. She'd finished the job, but not without getting injured herself, and it was damn difficult to hide DNA as the crime scene methods grew more advanced. At least SHIELD had wiped that from her records as the Black Widow. Part of the incentive to join up; they'd done the same thing for Clint, and he gave her one hell of a pitch.

In that way, she felt unworthy of James. He'd been on the good side from the beginning, so it didn't take him any incentive to join the Avengers. He got help, and he got to spend time with Steve, not to mention seeing Natasha again and having a chance with her. She told him he deserved better, which usually led to a mutually self-deprecating argument about who'd done more damage. And _that_ usually led to angry sex which they'd regret later, leaving them both wallowing in self-loathing until the pattern repeated.

Judging from what little they'd heard of their soulmate, her life had been pretty terrible as well, not that she'd killed as many innocent people as they had, and rarely directly. Well, there went any hopes that she'd be a beacon of light for them, if she was as inclined to brooding as they were.

"What do we do?" James whispered.

"I don't know," Natasha said. She hated that. "We're dangerous."

"So's she. She's the one with quaking powers. We're just enhanced killers. Sounds like she has enough enemies without adding ours."

"But she can handle herself, and take care of other people. Is it… is it wrong that I want a chance I have no right to?"

"Not any more wrong than—"

"Are we playing the pity game again?" she snapped. For once, he didn't rise to the bait.

"What d'you think it'll take to convince her to give us a—"

"You could start with asking her," May said. Natasha had met her a few times, but only nodded to her so far.

"She doesn't like surprises?" James said.

"No."

"Can you…" Natasha stopped herself, thinking this through, and then powered on. "Can you tell us if she'd really want…?"

"Not like you to be unsure," May said.

"We're destructive together," she said. "We don't want to drag Mar… Skye into it. But I don't know whether I want to try living without her, now that I've seen her in action, and now that I wouldn't be…"

"Poison?"

She blew out her breath. "I'm still that. But maybe she can handle it? I had every right to reject her when she was only a child and I was on the run from the law. And I couldn't find her when I wanted to, though now that we know who she is that makes a lot more sense. I still don't think we're safe for her—"

"Still, it can't hurt to ask," James added. "We can't take the choice away from her. The last seventy years I've had no control. I was completely unable to choose for myself, and any independent thought was wiped from me. Not entirely; I remember all too well some of the things I did, even though they usually only show up in nightmares. But I won't deny someone the right to choose for themselves." He snorted, and Natasha saw him look over at Steve. "Unless they're being a dumbass."

May studied them both.

"I'll ask if she wants to come over and talk to you," she said. "Remember that all of SHIELD is behind her, and if you hurt her…"

"I know," Natasha said. "The pain of a thousand suns, et cetera. I'm sure Coulson will give us the talk as well. Creative tortures and so on."

"We can imagine much worse than he could throw at us," James said.

"I wouldn't count on it," May said.

"Besides, I think she'd avenge herself," Natasha said.

May nodded, and walked over to Skye. Natasha couldn't watch, and turned her attention to James. That was safer than facing possible rejection if Skye indicated that she didn't even want to talk to them.

"She's coming over," James murmured.

Natasha risked a look and saw that he was right. Within seconds, Skye was in front of them, cool as anything, and waiting for them to start.

"Can we take you to dinner?" Natasha asked. Not her smoothest moment, blurting it out like that, but when Skye relaxed she wondered whether their soulmate had been as nervous as they were.

"Sure," she said. "Like a date?"

"That's the idea."

"I don't know when I'll be free – I'll have to ask Coulson – but when I am I'll call you."

"Would tomorrow be okay?" James said. "I only met you today, and I don't know whether that'd hold any weight with him, but—"

"I think we'll probably all be busy tomorrow night," Skye said.

"Oh yeah. With, uh, talking about…" He trailed off, looking embarrassed as he ducked his head, and Natasha noticed that Skye seemed to melt.

"Maybe connecting with the Avengers," she said. "I think tonight's mostly about people yelling at DC. I'm surprised you're not there with them," she added, looking at Natasha.

"I don't know whether to yell at him or hug him," she admitted. "I know I should thank him for taking you in and keeping you alive."

"Me too," James said. Skye blushed, and her eyes flicked downwards.

"Being in a relationship… if that's what you want with me, would be dangerous," she said. "I suck at relationships, intense emotions make me lose control of my powers, my psychotic ex-almost-boyfriend is the head of New HYDRA… and like everyone else on the team, I have major trust issues. My mother tried to kill me, my father tried to kill my friends, the guy who saved me from the other SHIELD is part of the reason Coulson lost a hand, Ward almost killed FitzSimmons, Bobbi and Mack were spies." She curled her arms around herself. "I know you've both had worse pasts, and we're all working hard to make up for the bad things we did, no matter how much autonomy we had or didn't have at the time." She glanced at Bucky, who nodded with a grim smile. "I can't guarantee that this'll work out. Only… that I'll _try_, if I think it might."

"That's all we're askin' for," James said. Skye smiled uncertainly.

"Okay then," she said. "I'll give you my number, and hope we have a night free soon."

* * *

**Wasn't sure how to end this. Author is not feeling clever. Author will wait until we get to the headcanon chapter for this one and make something up then, preferably with a happy ending.**

**Please review! I started this as Natasha/Skye, and then realised I'd already done that in 'Love a Redhead'. But! Jocasta Silver asked for Bucky/Natasha/Skye, so I adjusted it as necessary, and then tried not to drown myself in the angst. Damned difficult, considering the possibilities. The only way these three would get a real happy ending would be with a ton of therapy or in an AU.**


	119. What I Am (John Garrett x female Phil)

**Note: one mention of a past miscarriage, but it's not dwelt on.**

"What I Am"

_1984_

"Well, hello there, sunshine, how are you doing?"

Phillippa Coulson looked up from where she was crouched in the mud over an injured agent, and realised that the reason she wasn't getting any more wet (though she was plenty drenched already, thank you very much) was that the rain was being blocked by a large, black umbrella, held by a man with dark hair and a cheerful grin.

"Okay," she said. "Thanks for the help. I hate to impose, but…"

He laughed and squatted down beside her. "You get on one side, I'll get on the other."

Three months off her twentieth birthday, Pippa nimbly hopped to the agent's other side, and helped her umbrella-holder haul the man to his feet. There was only a bit of slipping in the mud, and they got the man to the nearest bus shelter. Not many holes in the roof, so there was that. Hands now free, Pippa squeezed the water out of her ponytail and smiled at the stranger, who held out his hand.

"John Garrett," he said.

"Pippa Coulson. I've heard of you. Pretty high-ranking for someone only in your twenties."

"And you're pretty young for someone on their third mission," Agent Garrett replied.

"Um…" She fidgeted awkwardly. "You, uh…"

"Said your soulmate words?" She nodded. "You said mine, baby bird."

Pippa laughed nervously. "Baby bird?"

"I like nicknames. Don't you?"

She shrugged. "I don't go by Phillippa, so clearly I don't hate them. And I… I don't mind them coming from you."

Garrett – no, she should probably call him John – stepped closer to her, and cupped the back of her head.

"There's protocol about this," he said. "We'll have to report it."

"I know."

"Before we can even go on a date."

She sighed. "I know."

He moved closer. "Or marry…"

"I-I…"

"Bond." She swallowed as he rubbed their noses together. "Maybe have a kid or two."

"You… you want that? With me?"

"I always imagined what my soulmate would look like," he said. "Course I thought about it all the way. You're prettier than I hoped you'd be. Figured you'd be SHIELD, but it didn't stop me imagining having a family with you." His other hand dropped to her waist, thumb caressing the side of her belly. "Now I've got the pictures running through my head, you decked out in a wedding dress, or whatever you wanna wear. Even this tac gear. Which, by the way, is _incredibly_ distracting."

"You're one to talk," she muttered.

"Yes, I am, sweetheart. Wait `til you hear all the stories I can tell you about other senior level agents. You've only been here a couple of years, I'm guessing?"

"Recruited straight outta high school," she said.

"I've been around over ten years. The age difference is shocking."

Pippa giggled, and leaned up to kiss him. He avoided it. "Hey!"

"If I kiss you, I won't wanna wait to make an honest woman out of you."

"We're soulmates," she said firmly. He grinned.

"I know," he said, pulling her up against his body. She bit her lip to suppress a gasp.

"You plan to marry me, so I don't see what difference time makes," she said.

"It matters to _me_, baby." He kissed her cheek.

"John… I mean, Agent Garrett."

"Until we're married. Then it'll just get confusing, at least in private."

"Are you sure you don't want to… to take me? To bed?"

"You're not even twenty yet," John said, raising his eyebrows. "Extraction will be here soon."

"That's not an answer! Plenty of people marry their soulmates in their teens. Besides, I'm turning twenty in three months' time."

"Really?"

"Yes! So even if you knocked me up right now," his cheeks turned pink, but she barrelled on, "I wouldn't be giving birth until I was in my twenties."

"The innocence of youth," he remarked, and he walked over to the injured agent, who was still unconscious.

"You'll get all _my_ innocence," Pippa muttered. "Lemme give you a hand with that."

He chuckled, and she realised that he must've heard her. Between them, they helped Adsit to his feet. He stirred a little, but still didn't wake. John swung him up into his arms easily, and Pippa tried not to stare, but she couldn't help admiring how his arm muscles moved beneath the shirt under his tac vest. _Yummy_, she thought.

"If you don't stop devouring me with your eyes, I'll end up taking you against the bus shelter wall, and that's nowhere near as romantic as you deserve," John said. Adsit grimaced, which made Pippa suspect that he wasn't really asleep. Then John's words hit her, and she blushed as she fumbled with her comm. unit, trying to get in contact with SHIELD to find out their estimated extraction time. 'Not long now' was the best she could get, and she sighed, eyeing her soulmate.

"Were you sent in to rescue me?" she said. "Because I didn't ask for—"

"You reported that Adsit got clipped," he said. "I was the closest available agent. Can't complain about the company." He looked her up and down with a small smile. "Thought this was supposed to be a milk run?"

Pippa snorted softly. "You've been working at SHIELD for long enough to know that not every 'milk run' stays simple. I've been pretty lucky so far."

"From what I've heard it's less luck and more talent," he said, and Pippa ducked her head in embarrassment. "I'm serious, baby bird. Not everyone's recruited into SHIELD straight from high school; from the police or the military or the services, yes, but not high school. You've gotta be exceptional for that. Combined with your instincts, you'll make one hell of an agent."

"You don't believe in luck, do you?" she concluded, tipping her head.

"I believe in many things," John said, arching an eyebrow. "Luck isn't one of them."

"I'm feeling pretty lucky right now."

His face softened. "I believe in _you_, Phillippa."

Pippa's breath caught. Then there was a low buzzing sound rapidly approaching, and the rain began to blow in on them as a `jet landed nearby. Adsit made a face as his eyes opened, and he glared as water hit him.

"Still don't believe in bad luck?" Pippa called over the loud thumping of the blades. John laughed, helping her haul Adsit up.

"All about perspective, sweetheart," he said. "Bad for us, but good for Long John Silver here."

"I hate you, Garrett," the agent muttered, elbowing him. Pippa poked his arm.

"Don't be mean to my soulmate," she said.

"The two of you together?" He groaned. "Wait `til the others hear about this."

"You're just jealous," John said as they approached the `jet, where medics were already wheeling a stretcher forward. "`Cause I've got a pretty young soulmate who's got the respect of everyone who knows her, even the people she's put away."

Well, if Pippa wasn't already in love, the look he gave her would've done it. She was happy to pass Adsit off to the medical team, and John gave her an unnecessary helping hand into the plane. He even leaned over and buckled her in, which was actually cruel, because his hands lingered in all the right places but they were still technically working, and were in front of her colleagues, and he was so close she could've kissed him if only he hadn't pulled back before she could get that far.

"Did you have to do that?" she muttered. But she settled into his side when he looped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

"Parents?" he asked.

"Car accident," she said shortly. "Spent the last few months of my schooling in the system. I was gonna go into the military, but Nick Fury saw something in me and recruited me into SHIELD instead."

"You'd be safer in the forces," John said.

"Barely," Pippa said. "And I wouldn't have met you, would I?"

"Not like this."

"…Was that your way of asking who my legal guardian is? Because I guess that would be SHIELD. Or you could ask Nick for my hand in marriage. Doesn't matter to me, though. We're soulmates; there's nothing to stop us from bonding or marrying, whatever you wanna do."

John didn't take his eyes off her. "All of it," he said. "I told you before; I've thought about this for years. But I'm not pledging to you during a mission."

Pippa sighed internally, but didn't press the point. She'd crack him, sooner or later.

* * *

"Are you sure about this, Cheese?" Fury asked, watching her from across the booth. She nodded. "He's a senior agent."

"You know I follow the rules," she said. "You're senior to me and we're still friends, or I like to think so. Enough that I want you to give me away. You're the closest thing I have to family, although with John…" She gazed over at her soulmate, who was ordering ice cream sodas for them. She felt like she was back in high school.

"You're gonna make a new family."

"I'll get to make my own with him," Pippa said. "As soon as I can convince him it's a good idea."

"Judging by the way he looks at you, it won't take much convincing," Fury said.

"I wish," she said. "He's being stubborn. We can get married; I'm old enough, and we're soulmates. I'd be happy with bonding, but he'd be even happier with marriage, old-fashioned gentleman that he is."

"Garrett? A gentleman?"

"Towards me," she said, crossing her hands on the table. "Too much of a one. If I could break into his quarters on base I would, and spread myself out on his bed, waiting. Then maybe he'd jump me."

Rather than commenting on his friend's words, Fury altered the subject.

"As a field agent, do you really think you should be considering motherhood?" he said.

"I'd like to," she said. "While I'm still young enough to bounce back from it, and get my body back into shape. I don't want to wait too long. John's reminded me a few times, the aggravating bastard, that he's around ten years older than I am. Large age differences between parents and their children aren't fair on anyone. I don't want to make the same mistakes my parents did…" Not that she'd lost her parents to old age, but if they'd had her sooner and she'd met her soulmate sooner, they may've at least seen grandchildren.

"You're not planning on making me a godfather, are you?"

"You have a well-paying, steady job," Pippa said, blinking slowly and innocently. "Why shouldn't I?"

He glared at her, and John got back before Fury could retort. Pippa smiled sweetly at her friend, and then genuinely at her soulmate, who kissed her on the forehead. Tease. He distributed the drinks, and Pippa hooked ankles with him under the table. He smirked around his straw as he looked at her.

"Has he agreed yet?" he asked.

"_Will_ you give me away?" Pippa said. Fury nodded. "There. He's agreed."

"You've got my permission as well," Fury said. "Treat her right, and keep SHIELD's rules in mind."

"Always will and always do," John said.

"Then we're not gonna have any problems."

* * *

John officially proposed to Pippa on her birthday, and they married a week later. They bonded that very night, reaffirming it every opportunity they could, and before they knew it Pippa had to send in an application for maternity leave. That was when John became unbearably overprotective.

"I guess I should be glad that you're not one of those guys who knocks a girl up and then leaves her," she grumbled, only five months along. "But I'll never get back into shape afterwards if you baby me all over the place."

"I'm taking care of my family," John said, kissing her neck. "There's nothing wrong with that. What kind of low-life would abandon his family, anyway?"

"Not you," Pippa said, tilting her chin up for a proper kiss. "You'll always be there for me, won't you?"

"Always," he breathed, and he covered her mouth with his. Pippa touched the back of his neck and kept him in place, lacing their fingers together where he rested a hand over her still-small baby bump. It wasn't long before he picked her up again – thank SHIELD for those muscles of his – and carried her back through to the bedroom.

"You'll be late for work," she said, even as he placed her on the bed.

"Just one more for the road," he said. "While you're still up for pregnancy sex."

"You said a kid or two," she said. Her breathing became erratic as he raised the skirt of her dress, a necessity while she was pregnant. "How many do you want?"

"Two," he said, tugging her underwear down. "Maybe three."

"Sounds…" She squeaked as he buried his face between her legs. "_Good_."

* * *

_1990_

John held two-year-old Melissa as Pippa fussed over five-year-old Bradley's backpack straps.

"I'm fine, Mom," he said, trying to push her hands away. "It'll be off soon."

"Spinal health is important—"

"Mom!"

"Sweetheart." John tugged the back of her blouse. Pippa sighed, and straightened up, before tugging Bradley's cap into place. It was a Captain America one, which Pippa had had absolutely no shame in buying. She backed up to John's side.

"You behave yourself for your teacher, and be nice to the other kids," she said. "You have to set an example for Melissa, remember?"

"Have fun," John said. "Make friends, okay?"

Bradley nodded, and then raced off to follow the other children into school. It was his first day, as nerve-wracking as any other firsts, especially when Pippa and John weren't around to keep an eye on him. He was a safe as any kid could be, and there were enough bugs in his bags and clothes and the school for them to keep track of anything untoward which may happen. But it wasn't just that. It was the general worrying parents did about their children growing up. Even though he was only five, school would go quickly. He'd make friends who would then have to be vetted, go to sleepovers, parties, camps, and all the rest of it.

"We've still got Melissa, baby bird," John said, trying to allay Pippa's fears. She sighed as she rested against him, grateful for the weight of his arm around her shoulders.

"And we'll always have each other," she said. They waved when Bradley looked back, just the once. Then he trailed the other students inside as the bell rang. "I hope he doesn't get lost on his way to class."

"That'd be a terrible start to his academic career."

Pippa poked him in the side. "Don't make fun of this. It's a big step—"

"For all of us. I know. Meanwhile, we still have this one to impart all our wisdom onto before she follows her brother." He pecked Melissa on the cheek as she looked around at all the strangers, her eyes wide at all the bright colours. Most of the people at SHIELD wore grey and black, so it was always a surprise to see others wearing green or brown or purple or yellow. Then she hid her face in John's neck. At a confirmation from a watching agent that Bradley had found his classroom and was already choosing a desk, the Garrett family returned to their car and drove to work.

* * *

A few weeks later, John was sent to Sarajevo. Pippa hated it when they had to go on separate missions, and considering the war going on out there, she… well, she left Melissa and Bradley with Nick, commandeered a `jet going out that way, and got them to drop her where the team was supposed to be. She found them, but John wasn't there.

"Then where the hell is he?" she said.

"We're waiting for confirm—"

One of the radios crackled to life, and Pippa bit her nail as John made his report. He didn't need to know that she was there, so she kept silent, hoping that he wouldn't notice her proximity thanks to their bond. Technically, she shouldn't have even been there, but she'd advanced in rank just as John did, and used her soulmate privileges shamelessly.

"I can see—" He was cut off by what sounded like a massive explosion. Pippa's heart leapt to her throat, and she tried to get closer, but another agent held her back. "I need medical assistance, now! I need extraction! Can you read me?"

"We're reviewing the situation, Agent Garrett," the CO said, looking over papers.

"No," Pippa said, shaking her head frantically. "Don't. Just send in a medical team. I'll go with them."

"Get her out of here, Sitwell!"

"Send help!" Pippa said. She tried to fight Sitwell's hold, and another agent had to help him haul her back. "Damnit, send in an extraction team! He needs help!" She felt ill, and her mark was itching. Shit. What did that mean? "It's bad. He needs help. Let me go, let me _go_, Sitwell!" She elbowed him, but he managed to evade it. Pity; right now she would've gotten a lot of satisfaction out of breaking one of the junior's ribs.

"We can't get anyone to you at the moment, Agent Garrett. Just hang on—"

"No! Let me go to him! What's his position?"

"Agent Coulson, you'll have to wait over here," Sitwell said. "Don't force us to restrain you, or take you into custody."

Pippa ignored the tears on her cheeks. "He's my soulmate. Please, let me help him!"

"You have two children, or have you forgotten that, Agent Coulson? Sit down and wait, or return to America and wait. We'll send help as soon as we can, but it's too dangerous at the moment to risk extraction. He has a first aid kit with him, and he's resourceful. He can handle whatever it is, if it's not too bad."

"And if it _is_ bad?" she said, trying to get past him. Sitwell pushed her back.

"Then there's nothing we can do but get to him as soon as possible," he said. "And the only thing you can do for him that could be _remotely_ productive is hope. Or pray, if you're feeling religious enough."

Pippa's soulmark continued to bother her, but she didn't dare look at it. She tried to find out John's position, and stalked around the tent, attempting to fathom the direction, but no one would tell her anything. When a team finally went out, she insisted on going with them, and the CO reluctantly allowed it when Fury sent his approval. Something about her going anyway, and it was safer for her to go with SHIELD agents.

It was impossible to hold back tears when she saw the terrible state John was in. Blood and… God knows what else leaking from beneath makeshift bandages held in place with… was that _duct tape_? It made her feel sick, and she was lucky not to lose her lunch as he stared into the distance, not even acknowledging her as she held his hand. She stayed by his side until they managed to get temporary medical assistance, and again until they reached America and he went in for an operation at a SHIELD facility. It was two days since she'd seen their children, but she showered before reuniting with them. Bradley had been coping, but Melissa hadn't slept well, and was nearly crying by the time she was back in Pippa's arms.

"Where's Dad?" Bradley asked.

"H-he's in hospital," Pippa said. "But he'll be okay. They just need to… to…"

"Put him back together," Fury said.

"That's right," she said, nodding quickly. "I'll take you to see him as soon as we're allowed to."

"Promise?"

"…Yes, Bradley. I promise."

When Pippa wasn't burying herself in paperwork to explain her unauthorised trip, she was checking her soulmark obsessively. It was high on her right breast, so it was a matter of pulling her shirt forward far enough to see above the line of her bra. Sometimes the mark was dark, sometimes it was lighter, and at least once it nearly disappeared completely. Those were obviously the times he was coding, either during an operation or in the intensive care unit.

"Please, John," she'd whisper at those times, her eyes wet. She could only breathe properly again once the soulmark was visible, and then return her attention either to her work, or to Melissa. Sometimes her… _their_ daughter would grow distressed with Pippa, but she was mostly catching up on sleep. Pippa distracted herself with picking Bradley up, and listened as he talked about school, wishing that there was more she could tell him about his father.

* * *

John felt weak, his eyelids heavy, and he wondered whether he'd ever see his family again. He thought he'd seen Pippa in Sarajevo, obviously a hallucination.

SHIELD. The bastards didn't send in a medical team until it was nearly too late. Maybe it _was_ too late. He felt like he was in hell, and forced his eyes open to see whether he was right. Nope; still in hospital, still hooked up to machines. He noticed an agent all in black at the door, and glared at him.

"Back in a moment, sir," the agent said, and he opened the door. He poked his head out, and then one of the younger agents, Sitwell, entered the room. The other agent left, and Sitwell approached the side of the bed.

"Your wife wants to visit," he said. "She went out to Sarajevo, you know."

"She _was_ there?" John whispered hoarsely. Sitwell nodded as he poured a drink.

"She kept begging for SHIELD to send someone to get help for you," he said. "But it was too dangerous. She even wanted to go into the field herself and find you. Would've gotten her killed." John nearly choked on the water Sitwell fed to him gradually. "Don't worry. We didn't let her go until the medical team went in. Paced back and forth like a tiger for hours until we got the go-ahead."

John closed his mouth, and Sitwell put the water aside.

"Where's she?" he asked.

"On base, with the kids. Do you want us to send for her?"

John gave him a 'You're an idiot' look, and said, "_Yes_."

"I'll get someone to bring them in," Sitwell said. "You did a good job out there. No one could've done better. Alexander Pierce himself wants to talk to you."

"Tell `im SHIELD can go to hell," John rasped, leaning back into the pillows. "My insides fell like they're made of metal."

"…We'll get a doctor in to tell you more about the procedure. But Pierce is on his way."

It wasn't long before the blond under-secretary was ushered into John's room. If it wasn't for the thought of what might happen to Pippa, Bradley, and Melissa, John would've spat at the man, part of the organisation which would've left John to die.

"I'm here to personally thank you for your work," Pierce said as the door closed. As soon as they were alone, he took the seat beside John's bed. "I understand you have some grievances with SHIELD?"

"Fuckers would've left me to die in a war-zone," John said, his voice still scratchy despite the water and the ice chips. "I wouldn't have sent for extraction if I thought it was too dangerous for a team."

"You know SHIELD," Pierce said. "And its acceptable casualty rates."

"SHIELD can kiss my ass."

Pierce inclined his head. "Your feelings have been noted. Is it just SHIELD you hate?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, if there was another way for you to fight the good fight, so to speak," Pierce said, "would you follow that path instead? Fight for world peace from another angle?"

John narrowed his eyes. "What d'you mean?" he repeated.

"I've been working for another organisation _within_ SHIELD. We're concerned about SHIELD's approach to situations which may affect the fate of the world."

"But you're still SHIELD."

Pierce's smile was toothier than usual. "Not exactly. We've been there since the beginning. Tell me." He leaned forward. "Do you want revenge against SHIELD? We have big plans for the future, an algorithm which has been cooking for years, eventual destruction of all subversive elements which threaten the lives of the people we care about. Your soulmate and children, for example."

"Are you…" No, he wasn't threatening John. He was trying to convince him to leave SHIELD, but not leave SHIELD. For what, though? "Who do you work for?"

"Have you heard of HYDRA?"

Of course John had heard of HYDRA. He was married to a Captain America nut, after all. How could he not have heard of the organisation with ties to Hitler?

"Yes," he said.

"So much negative propaganda," Pierce said, sighing as he leaned back in the chair. "If people knew what we were really trying to achieve…"

"Which is what?"

"Why, I've told you. Peace on a global scale. The technology is still being worked on, but we have high hopes for Tony Stark."

"He's HYDRA?"

"No," Pierce said. "But he's working for us, even though he doesn't know it."

John looked down at his hands, and noticed the bulge under the covers where his middle had been covered with a tonne of padding and bandages.

"What happened to me?" he asked.

"I don't know all the details, but there was a lot of damage. You're the first in the Deathlok program—"

"Deathlok?" Because _that_ didn't sound ominous.

"Part of your insides had to be replaced with machinery," Pierce said bluntly. John could only stare at him. "We have technicians in HYDRA who can maintain and improve it. The program is hush-hush, so…" He made a shushing sound, a finger to his lips. "All I ask is that you join us. You have a way with people. We could use someone like you to help us with recruitment when you leave the field, if…"

"If I ever go back into the field," John surmised. Pierce nodded. "I see."

"I'm aware that your soulmate is a devoted Captain America fan." John nodded. "It's unlikely she could ever be swayed to our cause. If you join us, you'll have to keep it secret from her, from _everyone_. We don't have nearly enough agents yet, not for Project Insight to have a world-wide effect. You could even lose her." Pierce cocked his head, and continued. "But HYDRA will win the day, and you'll be there to protect her, and your children, from any fallout."

John was still unsure, but he was curious about what the Deathlok technology looked like, so he lifted the sheet, and then peeled some of the padding back.

His skin was split open around an ugly steel box, which was apparently keeping him alive. It was attached to exposed organs, and he felt sick as he poked, only to find that they were at least covered with some kind of plastic. But he felt the bile rising, and let go of the padding as he clapped a hand to his mouth. Pierce pushed a bowl into his lap and John threw up, wincing at the pain. Every time he pictured the blend of flesh and metal, he just wanted to be sick again. When there was nothing left for him to lose, Pierce handed him a few tissues. John cleaned himself up, dumped the tissues in the bowl, and watched Pierce set it aside.

"What if my soulmark disappears?" he said.

"Then we fake your death for long enough to be considered clinically dead, revive you, and you can go back to playing Happy Families until it's time," Pierce said, his delivery dispassionate. "You may have to be patient."

"I'm a SHIELD agent," John said. "I'd be dead by now if I didn't know how to be patient."

"_Are_ you a SHIELD agent?"

John paused, giving it thought. He remembered the machine in his stomach, that HYDRA had put it there to save his life when SHIELD betrayed him. He'd be happy to return the favour, quite frankly.

"Hail HYDRA," he said.

There was a sickening sensation in his chest, and he parted the hospital gown enough to see his soulmark fade completely.

_Pippa_.

"We won't keep you long," Pierce said, and he walked to the door. He tapped rhythmically, and a nurse entered the room. "Agent Garrett needs to sleep for a little while. You know what to do."

_I'm sorry, Pippa._

John Garrett, agent of SHIELD, died.

John Garrett, agent of HYDRA, arose.

* * *

Pippa had barely set foot out of the car when she felt a horrible tightness. Terrified of what it meant, she checked her soulmark.

Gone.

"No. _No_!"

She left Bradley and Melissa with Blake, who'd been good enough to drive them to the hospital when John asked for her, and ran through the car park. She found out where ICU was, charged up the stairs to save time, and had to be stopped by several agents. She barely noticed Alexander Pierce, or that Sitwell was talking to her. She was staring straight past him into her husband's hospital room.

"…to resuscitate him. Just be patient—"

"Please, let me past!" She struggled against the agents holding her back. "If he knows I'm here—"

"Coulson!" Sitwell snapped. "Calm down! This is a medical facility."

"But… but it's John…" Moisture obscured her vision. "I can't lose him."

"You won't. Think positive, Agent Coulson."

Seconds felt like an eternity before the doctors stopped what they were doing. Then it looked like they were congratulating each other. Pippa refused to move until someone came and told her John was alright, and then she nearly sagged to the floor. Sitwell held her up, and after Blake arrived with the children Pippa was allowed to enter the private ward. John was barely conscious, but he was _alive_. Even though both their soulmarks were gone, he was still alive. And even if their soulmarks never returned, he was her husband, the man she loved, the man she would _die_ for. The father of her children.

"It'll be okay," she murmured, holding his hand as they waited for him to wake up.

* * *

Pippa couldn't understand his coldness. Insisting on separate beds while he recovered was understandable; hiding his injury from her was confusing; saying that he would leave when the children grew up was insane.

"We're married," she said, comforting Melissa, who'd been having a nightmare. "We took vows, John. And I _love_ you. I have ever since we met, and I'll never stop. You have to know that. If we weren't soulmates I still would've loved you, even if it was just as friends."

"And if you get a new mark?" he said. There was definitely something off about him, a bitterness she acknowledged probably came from what happened in Sarajevo.

"I'll _never_ leave you, John Garrett," she said. "You're it for me. There'll never be another while you're alive, and I doubt there'd be another after you died, if I even outlived you. No one could ever replace you. Can't you _see_ that?"

He still wouldn't look at her. "Once Melissa's old enough, I'm out of here," he said.

"So, what, you're only staying for the children, not for me?"

"I would've left by now if you hadn't reminded me that I wasn't the kind of low-life who'd deliberately abandon my kids—"

"Family, John! Not just the children, but me! Don't you love me anymore?"

There was a long pause, and she could feel her heart breaking. "I lost something out there, and I think that was part of it." Pippa lowered her head, and held Melissa tight. "I can pretend as much as you want, for the kids' sake. But when they're old enough…"

"Don't," she said softly. "Not now. Think it over, f-for as long as you need. But don't you dare make any decisions of… of _this_ magnitude until after you've thought everything through, you hear me?"

He nodded shortly, and then left the nursery. Pippa put Melissa back to bed, stroked her hair and sang softly until she fell asleep, and then retreated to her own bedroom, now empty of her husband's things.

* * *

_1991_

It was the first time John and Pippa had been on a mission together since before Sarajevo, and it had involved a kiss.

An almost-kiss, technically. Surveillance in a club had led to them dancing, pinned together on the floor thanks to all the dancers around them, as they both kept an eye on the suspects. When Pippa was knocked into John's arms, they'd been closer than they had in over ten months. The distraction was enough to draw attention to their part of the dance floor, which led to John dragging his lips over Pippa's until the attention was safely diverted. She'd wanted to press into it, but he'd shied back, the asshole.

Now she was left post-debriefing with a nervous bundle of tension inside, and she _knew_ John felt the same way. He kept side-eyeing her, and after they left the room she made sure to head in the direction of empty offices. She knew John was close, and when he was near enough she slipped into a disused room. He was on her in seconds, plastering her against the wall and grinding his hips into hers. Pippa gasped sharply, and John growled as he undid his belt buckle.

"Keep your hands where they are," he said. She obeyed, worried that she might never get this chance again. John unzipped his pants and released himself, then raised her skirt and yanked her underpants out of the way. He thrust in without ceremony, and she was so desperate for him that she didn't care, close to the brink with one stroke, tipping over the edge after one more, and crying out as her head fell back against the office wall. John hoisted her up under her knees, ploughing in and out, and Pippa tried to take him as deeply as she could. He thrust like a machine, avoiding her kisses, but she seriously didn't care. Her husband was back inside her again, holding her close like he used to, staying inside her as he finished. She kept her legs locked around him, trying to catch her breath, and whining when he inevitably pulled out. She secured her underwear in place, resolving to get into bed as soon as possible and keep a pillow under her hips. Or maybe it wouldn't be necessary?

"Will this change things?" she asked, hopeful. John finished righting his clothes.

"…I don't know," he said.

* * *

He didn't come back to bed, to Pippa's disappointment. She hoped that might change when she gave him the good news.

"Well, we said two or three," she said, handing him the results. "Three, as it turns out."

John read over all the information, and then handed it back to her. "I see."

"So…"

"So what, Pippa? You're pregnant again. I'll be there for the kid." His sharp eyes wandered over her. "Did you do this deliberately to make me stay longer?"

"What? No! I haven't been on contraception because we haven't been having sex, John. It seemed pretty pointless. Can you blame me for getting out of the habit? Besides." She cradled her stomach. "Maybe this will fix things? Another baby? You'll be a father again. I don't need another soulmate; I've already got you."

"We're not doing this again," he said. He still hadn't regained his old spirit, not around her. "After this one is old enough… or if you get another soulmate and—"

"_John_!" Pippa wanted to stamp her foot in frustration. "You're my husband. You're my soulmate. You're the father of my children. And while you're making it goddamned difficult, you're _the man I love_. We have a new baby on the way." She followed him to the living room, where Melissa was colouring in pictures in an activity book, and Bradley was playing with toy trucks. John reclined back in his armchair.

"Things change," he said.

"_I_ don't," Pippa said. She looked at the two children, and seeing that they were far enough away, she knelt beside John's armchair. "I didn't tell you…"

"You didn't tell me what?"

"After the… the mission where you got hurt." She swallowed. "All that stress, worrying about you during your recovery… I didn't even know I was pregnant until I lost it." He looked down at her, turning pale. "Don't you see why I _needed_ you to be close? Don't you see why I need you _now_, more than ever? I can't lose this one. If it's the last child you ever give me, I… I can't _lose_ it, John. I love you so much, and I need you."

"_Pippa_." He sounded anguished, but when she glanced at him again, he looked colder than ever. "I'll take care of you, baby bird. I will."

* * *

_Years later_

Three days after Lauren's sweet sixteenth birthday party, Pippa was sent to talk to Tony Stark about his captivity Afghanistan. Melissa visited from college for the party, but Bradley was abroad, so they had to use Skype. John was there, even though he only lived with his family part of the time now. Pippa tried not to let it show how much this was killing her. The further he pulled away, the more it hurt.

It didn't help that after Melissa left home, leaving only Lauren with their parents, Pippa received a new soulmark. It was on her other breast this time, over her heart, but she felt she was getting too old for new partners. She loved John, denied that her feelings faded a bit more each time he pulled away. He knew about her new mark. It said 'I'm Captain America'. She'd told him as soon as she received it, pointed out how ludicrous it was since Steve Rogers had been declared dead.

"I won't go to any fancy dress parties, either," she said. But he just gave her soulmark the strangest look, and then left.

Meeting Tony Stark was anticlimactic. Having a meeting about Obadiah Stane with Pepper Potts, however, was anything but dull. Iron Man announced his identity to the world – which, in hindsight, she should've seen coming – and her life became infinitely busier. Stark's breakdown, Justin Hammer being an asshole, the Hulk creating bedlam, a mythical hammer appearing in New Mexico. Juggling all that with Project TAHITI was getting to her, and resigning from it was not only a matter of principle, but also practicality. Bringing the Avengers together was more than enough to stress anyone out, even though Lauren was an absolutely angel, and John helped sometimes. He didn't know about Project TAHITI, but then he kept secrets from her, too, just like they had always done.

Then Steve Rogers was found, and she was both exhilarated and terrified, all at once. He was _alive_. Her biggest hero of all time was alive, and in the same city as her. She would get to work with Captain America himself!

But… but what if he was her soulmate? Apart from being the most intimidating concept ever created, she would also lose John. Her only hope was to say something which wouldn't lead to him saying those words.

"Captain Rogers, my name is Pippa Coulson. Would you come with me, please?"

"After you, Agent Coulson."

She sent a message to John, telling him that the real Captain America WASN'T her soulmate, so could he please get his head out of his ass? But it was no use. There was no reply from him, and she confronted Loki with a heavy heart, grateful that if things went wrong at least Lauren was only a matter of months off her majority.

* * *

Glaring at a blurry Nick Fury, Pippa opened her mouth.

"Garrett knows you're alive, and your children know you're alive," he said.

All she could say was, "Good."

"They know you went to Tahiti."

"It's a magical place…" She yawned, and nodded off to sleep again.

* * *

HYDRA.

Pippa was torn. She had to get her team to safety – had to _find_ all her team, and a safe place – but she was also desperate to call her children. Bradley was thirty, and the girls were in their twenties, but that didn't make them any safer. Not as the offspring of two high-level SHIELD agents.

"I'm not leaving it to John to call them," she murmured to herself. She got to her office, opened several screens at once, and she used three of them to place a conference call to her children. They all picked up quickly.

"Now you're all on," she said, "I need to tell you this. HYDRA is in SHIELD. We've been searching for The Clairvoyant, and he – or she – must be HYDRA. In the meantime, get yourselves to safety. Keep your SIM cards, but destroy your phones, and get new numbers as soon as you can, okay? You know your pass codes."

"You're serious, aren't you?" Melissa said, staring at their mother. "This isn't a drill."

"I thought HYDRA was gone?" Bradley said.

"So did I," Pippa said grimly. "I have a lot to do, and I'll feel a hell of a lot better if I know you're safe. Your father's nearby, so don't worry about us. But send at least two messages an hour. Stagger the times. I won't get anything done if you're not…"

"Aware of the situation," Lauren concluded. Pippa nodded. "Okay, Mom. We'll get to the nearest safe-house—"

"HYDRA will know their locations. Disappear like I taught you. Go somewhere no one will think to look for you." She noticed a flashing light. "I have to go now. Promise you'll keep in contact. I'll let you know when I'm safe. I love you."

She barely gave them a chance to reply before shutting off the connection.

* * *

Pippa stared straight ahead after having her fill of pizza, which sat like lead in her stomach. She wished May was still with her. Hopefully she'd see Maria soon.

It was hard enough that Ward was HYDRA. That _John_ was The Clairvoyant horrified her beyond belief. She'd had children with this man. She'd loved him. He was the only man she'd ever been with, her soulmate until six years ago. When she'd asked why he changed, all he'd said was 'Sarajevo', and she realised. Pissed off with SHIELD as he'd been, and dosed up on meds after the surgery, he could've done something extremely irrational like agreeing to join HYDRA.

In fact, when they finally had breathing time and Fury appointed her the new director of SHIELD, in charge of rebuilding the organisation she'd given her life to, she initially thought she's misheard.

"What?" she said. "Me?"

"Who else?" Fury said.

"But… but John…"

"Forgotten that you lost your soulmark?"

Pippa frowned at him. "He was _still_ my husband. I had to kill him myself, which I'll have to tell our children, _if_ they're still alive, and after telling them that he was the enemy, the man who had Skye and Blake shot, _HYDRA_. You really trust me—"

"Yeah, I do, Coulson. You did what you had to, putting SHIELD ahead of your personal feelings, and not for the first time. I couldn't think of a better placement."

She tried not to blush, but pride swelled up inside her, and she couldn't stop a grin from spreading over her face.

"Director," Fury said, shaking her hand. "Now go call your kids and tell them the news."

* * *

_Two years later_

After watching the footage for the sixth time that day, Pippa had to be dragged out of her office by her agents, who'd even flown in her children from other states to be there.

"We saw the news, Mom," Lauren said, leaning against her. Bradley was on the other side, and Melissa was cuddling her from behind. "We're so sorry."

"I knew the day would… _might_ come," Pippa said. She hadn't cried yet; as long as she didn't, then it wasn't real. "But he survived more than six decades in the ice. I guess I'd come to think of Captain America as immortal. And… most of us have come close to death, only to get through it, or come back from it. Steve Rogers… _can't_ be dead." She shook her head. "No. He can't be."

"Mom," Bradley said softly, but firmly. Pippa felt her heart cracking.

"It's so unfair," she whispered. "I'd mourn any of them, but he lost so much, and didn't get to live much of a life after he got a second chance. Barely reunited with B-Bucky Barnes, and taken from him again." Her fingers were tightly entwined. "The only memories I left with him were of me blushing and stammering, and being an awkward fan. I asked him to sign my trading cards. Told him I'd watched him while he was _sleeping_. I was relieved he wasn't my new soulmate, but… he never even knew I was alive. I kept putting off telling all of them, and he never got to know…" She bowed her head. "I have to do something. I'll… I'll tell the others. It's not fair to them." With a heavy, unsteady sigh, she stood up, her children nearly falling over. "Sorry."

"Mom?" Melissa said. "Uncle Nick once said that Captain Rogers always carried around the b-blood-soaked trading cards. He might've had them when he died. Maybe he always hoped you were alive?"

"Don't!" Pippa squeezed her fists. "It's sweet of you, but that just makes it worse."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. And… thank you for visiting. Stick around for a few days. I'll try to be better company. For now, though… I've got a few calls to make."

The very next day, they were invaded. Pippa didn't realise that telling the Avengers about her resurrection would lead to such actions so soon. But those who were available came: Pepper, Tony, Natasha, Clint, the Scarlet Witch, Vision, and the Falcon.

"Brought a couple of surprises for you," Sam said, after all the introductions had been made between the two teams, including Pippa's son and daughters.

"Your cards, for a start," said an unexpected voice. Steve Rogers stepped out of the shadows, and held out her reddened trading cards. "Sorry it took a while to get around to signing `em, even longer to get them to you."

Pippa was so shocked that May had to take the cards and tuck them into her suit pocket.

"You're… you're dead," Pippa said faintly, and she felt someone supporting her, which was probably wise.

"You're… you're dead, too," Steve replied. Pippa's eyebrows drew together when she realised that he was mocking her. "It would've been nice if you'd told us sooner. About three years sooner would've done the trick."

"I… I didn't know how to tell you," she said, and she felt Skye's hand on her arm. "I'm so sorry. I should've done it sooner. Then all I could think, when I heard you were dead, was that you never knew…" She felt dizzy, and was even more grateful for the support.

"Brought someone else to see you," Sam said, waving someone into the light. "You might recognise him."

Pippa stared at Bucky Barnes, former Winter Soldier.

"Yeah, I do," she said, and she smiled tearfully. "That's one guy I recognise. Like to know what's with the outfit, though." Because he was wearing the costume she'd designed for Steve.

"They won't know me when I've got the helmet on," Bucky said. "Still, as getting a new identity goes, it could be a lot worse." He shrugged, and smiled at Pippa. "I'm Captain America."

Oh. Oh _shit_. That was impossible.

"Mom," Melissa said. "Mom, you've gone pale."

"I'm sorry," Pippa said, unable to tear her gaze away from Bucky, "but you'll have to forgive me."

Then she passed out.

* * *

**I've got a mean sense of humour occasionally, so I'm leaving it there. I figured that I'd get requests for Bucky and Pippa to meet like I did with 'Requires Experimentation', but I think that was longer than this chapter, so I fit it in.**

**Yes, Phil and Garrett knew each other in canon, but I've written crackier pairings before, so I didn't see anything wrong with doing this. Aside from everything that happened, obviously, which is terribly tragic. You know me with angst. ;)**

**Please review!**


	120. Swapsies (Fitz x Johnny, Jemma x Steve)

"Swapsies"

"You have way too much time on your hands," Bruce said, looking at Steve and Johnny. They were wearing each other's costumes, and would be arriving at the charity gala separately, with each other's respective teams.

"More a screwed up sense of humour," Tony muttered. "Good thing their costumes are made out of stretchy material. Not _your_ levels of stretchy material, of course…"

"I don't know who's a worse influence on the other," Clint said.

"Close call," Bruce agreed.

"You've collected all the betting pool details, right?"

"Winner gets the satisfaction of being right, charity gets the money."

"The concept of capitalism really doesn't appeal to any of you, does it?" Tony asked.

"Shut up, Tony," Steve said automatically. "You sure we'll fool everyone?"

"Absolutely," Natasha said as she walked into the room. "Now get going, Storm. I mean Steve." She grimaced. "I hate you both for doing this. Even spies have limits. St… _Steve_, go join the Fantastic Four. Storm, you're with us."

"Good luck," Johnny said, shaking Steve's hand.

"You too," Steve said.

* * *

Skye's smirk was very nearly audible.

"This is so worth having to wear formal clothes," she said as the young agents all stared up at the front of the convention centre. "Where are the adults?"

"Back here," Coulson said. "Go on. We'll be right behind you."

"You _should_ be going before us," Jemma said, trying to stand aside. But Skye latched onto her arm.

"You heard the man," she said firmly. "Let's go. I got us the tickets—"

"Illegally," Coulson muttered.

"The least you can do is make a good entrance with me," Skye continued.

Jemma heard Fitz sigh on the other side of her. Skye virtually had to drag them up the stairs, while all the older agents followed more sedately. Jemma was glad that at least her dress wasn't long enough to risk tripping on it, and May had excellent taste when it came to nice shoes a woman could still run in. Fitz kept wanting to fiddle with his tie, _did_ fiddle with it every few minutes, so that there was always someone having to bat his hand away from it.

"This'll be great," Skye said. "A night where we can just drink champagne, have caviar on crackers, and meet up with the Avengers."

"Don't you _dare_ jinx us," Jemma admonished.

"Hey, I'm the last person to want that." All three, arms still linked, wandered into the ballroom, and Jemma felt Fitz tense beside her. She had feared that a situation such as this may overwhelm him, but a glance reassured her that he wasn't too bad at the moment. However, she made a mental note to keep an eye on him. "Okay, team. Let's split up and work the room."

"Split up?" Fitz replied in a sort of squeak.

"Well, _I'm_ going over here," Skye said. "_You_ can stay joined at the hip if you want, but I figured that with your soulmarks…" She trailed off, and Jemma noticed the way Fitz's shoulders slumped.

"You're right," he muttered. "I know you're right. We should be taking every chance we have. And it's not like we're not surrounded by super powered people."

"Exactly," Skye said. "So I'll see you later. Fly, my pretties. Fly." She immediately headed towards the buffet, and Jemma remembered that Skye never would have seen opulence like this as a child, not until she joined SHIELD. And certainly not the kind of opulence a man like Tony Stark could afford. She squeezed Fitz's arm, and he nodded at her before wandering off. Jemma twiddled her thumbs, and then made her way in the opposite direction. There were plenty of people around, and they were wearing trackers which would vibrate if any of them were more than a block away from each other at any given moment. It was a big room, but well within the distance Skye and Fitz had allowed in the design.

Jemma dipped a finger into the glass of wine she picked up, and the nail polish didn't change colour, so she presumed that the drink was safe. She took a few sips, taking in her surroundings, and observed a few members of the Fantastic Four. One of them, the Human Torch, was engaged in an animated conversation with someone, about space travel she could only assume, but when their eyes met she glanced away. It felt intrusive, and she drank a bit more wine. There was movement out of the corner of her eye, and she realised that staying in one place would look rather suspicious. As she began to move towards one of the tables of food – she needed to eat something to absorb the alcohol – someone stepped half in front of her. She pulled up short, and opened her mouth to ask Johnny Storm what he thought he was doing, when he nearly bowled her over.

"What's a beautiful lady like you doing alone at a party?" he asked, and he grinned winningly. Or perhaps he thought it was charming. Jemma was suddenly not in the right frame of mind to decide. She gripped her glass, grateful that she hadn't dropped it, and inhaled slowly.

"Waiting for someone to ask me why," she said, proud of how steady her voice was.

"…Oh," he said, and he blinked. "Shit. Wow, I'm…"

"You're?" she prompted, her heart sinking. His smile swiftly returned.

"The luckiest guy in the room," he said, and he held out his hand. "Hi. I'm st… so happy to meet you. S-stunned, I mean. _You're_ stunning." Jemma shyly offered her hand, still trying to work out why Johnny Storm was her soulmate. "I'm usually more eloquent than this. But you only meet your soulmate once, and… I'm doing really badly, aren't I?"

"On the contrary," she said. "You're doing very well."

"Wow," he repeated. "I must have a type. I m-mean, my first love… uh, crush, she was English. And brunette. And pretty as a picture."

"Huh." She sipped more wine. "I'm surprised. I never really thought of the Human Torch having a first love. Any sort, really. From your reputation…"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Say, you haven't told me your name yet."

"Dr. Jemma Simmons," she said, and she realised that they were still holding hands.

"A doctor. Really? You're so young."

"So are you." She reluctantly let go of his hand. "I really would have thought your skin would be warmer."

"…Wouldn't wanna burn you."

"Oh." She beamed. "That's sweet of you."

She never thought that Johnny Storm could look bashful – again, judging by what she'd heard of him, which really wasn't fair – but his cheeks definitely had a pink tinge to them.

"S-so," he said. "You never answered my question. Why you're here by yourself."

"I'm not," she said. "I came with other people. My friends are… well, they're somewhere around. I must introduce you to them."

"I need to introduce you to some people, too," he said, looking around. "Uh… oh! Let's start with… Captain America. Since he's just over there."

Jemma brightened when she saw where he was pointing. "That's Fitz with him! He's been my best friend for years." She entwined the fingers of her right hand with his left. "Two introductions out of the way at once."

"Lucky for me," he said faintly.

* * *

Fitz skilfully avoided conversation with strangers he didn't recognise, and went straight for the desserts. He could see Skye's look of amusement, but she was hardly one to talk. Admittedly, she went to savouries first, but sweets went better with champagne. Everyone knew that. Not that he intended to drink; any excuse for sweets, though. They were tiny, which meant that he could feel less guilty about trying one of everything which looked appetising, and they _all_ looked appetising.

"I'll save regret for the morning," he told himself, and he popped a mini cherry chocolate tart into his mouth. Yum. Then again, it would look odd if he skulked around the table all evening, not to mention extremely antisocial. He grabbed a few more sweets, resolved to come back later for more – unless these proved rich enough to put him off chocolate for three months – and tried not to look suspicious as he wended his way around crowds. He'd just popped some caramel concoction into his mouth whole, when he saw Captain America talking to some admirers, with possibly the most earnest expression Fitz had ever seen.

Steve Rogers was a soldier, so Fitz knew he wouldn't be as wholesome as so many Americans liked to think. That was more Jemma's type, the good-boy-with-sad-depth image, but no one could've denied that he was pretty to look at. Fitz hadn't found his soulmate yet, so there was no harm in looking, was there? And there was definitely something more magnetic about Steve Rogers in person than there was in video footage and photographs. Even better than the way Coulson talked about him, and he talked about the captain as if he'd hung the moon.

One of the… okay, the only reason they were at the gala was to make contact with the Avengers in a setting where they'd have to continue to be polite and professional, no matter how pissed off they were at Coulson. It was for charity, after all. The space would have been swept for bugs, the guest list would've been ruthlessly checked, which made it _safe_ neutral(-ish) territory. Enough for an exchange of contact information, at least.

It was _not_ for Fitz to ogle superheroes, especially ones he never thought would appeal to his appreciation for the bad boy types. (His instincts were a little too spot-on with Ward, not spot-on enough with Mack, though he'd been forgiven for the whole thing with 'real' SHIELD.)

Oops. He'd been caught staring. Fitz blushed as he looked away, and shoved the last of the mini desserts into his gob, something covered with coconut, and it sat in his cheek for a few seconds while he sucked bits of coconut off his fingers. He saw that the captain was staring at him with a wicked grin. Okay, perhaps Steve Rogers was even less innocent than Fitz had supposed. He chewed hurriedly on the coconut thing which was creating a less than innocent bulge in his mouth, and wondered whether he should get a drink to wash it down, when he noticed the captain approaching. Oh God.

Wait. Perhaps the grin was meant for someone else? He turned his head, but there didn't seem to be anyone behind him looking in their direction.

When he turned back, Steve Rogers was right there, smiling down at him.

"I wasn't staring, I promise," Fitz said. "At least not for the reasons you think. Not that I know what you were thinking."

He clamped his lips shut, glad that it was just them. If one of the team had been there, he never would've lived it down. The captain's eyes widened for a few seconds, and then his smile turned even more sly, and Fitz wondered whether that kind of smile was even legal in public.

"Please tell me you came here alone," the captain replied, and oh. _Oh_. Okay, Fitz had _not_ been expecting that, and he'd have to thank Skye for getting tickets for the whole team, not just Coulson and May.

"No," Fitz said. The smile dimmed. "I mean, I didn't. Come here alone. I'm with m-my team. Friends. But no, I mean, not… only alone in that… uh…"

"Date?"

"Yes, please!" He frowned. "Oh, no date. I don't _have_ one. Never do. Is that… What were you asking?"

The captain chuckled lowly. "You're here with a group?" Fitz nodded. "So you don't have a date?"

He swallowed. "Not at the moment." Time to be brave. "W-would you like to change that? Or… or d'you prefer a… a platonic—"

"No!" He sawed his hands in front of Fitz. "No. I've waited too damn long, and you're so cute I wanna eat you up right the hell now. Definitely not platonic."

Fitz could've swooned with the relief. "Good. I'm Fitz. Leo Fitz, but most people use my last name, so I'm used to Fitz."

"I'd make some God-awful joke about how it 'fits' you, but I'm scared you might punch me," he said seriously.

"Yeah, right," Fitz muttered. "I'd probably break my hand against you. I'll try to keep my friend Simmons away from you. She'd want to examine you, bloody bio-scientist. You're safer with me. D'you know much about engineering?"

His eyes lit up. "Yes, I do! A hell of a lot, actually. You can talk engineering?"

"More than talk. Better at building than talking, really, you might've noticed." He cocked his head. "I suppose you've learnt a lot since waking up in this century."

"What?"

Oh. Right. He probably thought Fitz was a civilian.

"I-I just meant, with everyone thinking you were dead, but you're obviously not," he said quickly. The captain relaxed again. "T-that's all."

"Of course," he said. "Uh… Maybe I should introduce you to people? My family… uh, my team—"

"No, I understand the concept of team as family," Fitz said. "Trust me."

"I'll just see… oh, look! Ca… uh, J-Johnny Storm—"

"Is with Simmons!" He grinned at his soulmate. "I have to introduce you to her. Come on." He grabbed hold of the captain's hand, which was extremely warm. Was it something to do with the serum? That was more Jemma's field of expertise, not that he was allowing her to cut up Captain America.

* * *

Steve was overcome with guilt as he led Jemma to Johnny and her friend. She thought her soulmate was the Human Torch, and he could only hope that she wouldn't be disappointed when the truth was revealed. He'd been doing a good job at 'being' Johnny Storm up `til then. Then he'd seen her, and she'd said his _words_, and it was hard to remember who he was supposed to be when all he wanted to do was kiss his soulmate, who thought he was someone else.

What a damn mess. They had to get this straightened out as soon as possible. He hoped that the look he gave Johnny conveyed that message. Then again, Johnny seemed to be trying to give him a significant look as well.

"Fitz, you'll never guess!" Jemma said as soon as they were only a couple of yards away from each other.

The curly-haired youngster beside Johnny glanced between them. "That's statistically impossible. Ah, hell, when have statistics ever meant a damn thing?"

"You're joking," Jemma said. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Oh my gosh, I'm so happy for you, Fitz!"

"You too, Simmons," he said, and they hugged. "Both of us meeting our soulmates on the same night. Who'd have thought it?" They stepped back from each other, and Steve's jaw dropped as he met Johnny's widening eyes.

"The hell?" Johnny said.

"Really?" Steve said.

"I suppose it was meant to happen," Jemma said. "We're FitzSimmons, after all."

"And our soulmates look almost exactly alike," Fitz said. "Twinsies!"

_More like 'Swapsies'_, Steve thought, trying to make his grimace look like a smile.

"It's uncanny," Jemma continued, and really, it wasn't going to be long before they figured it out. These two seemed to have their own language which just sounded like English. "Of course, I don't know how different they might be without costumes."

"And yours is probably unnaturally warm," Fitz said. Steve lowered his eyes, and wanted to kick Johnny when the Human Torch's lips quirked at the corners. "Mine feels warm, from the serum I'll bet, but yours—"

"We're right here," Johnny said. Quite frankly, Steve felt they didn't have any grounds for indignation.

"Actually, he's the temperature of an ordinary human being," Jemma said. "I was quite surprised."

"Huh." Fitz snickered. "Funny that you're the one with the Human Torch, but I'm the one whose soulmate is several degrees warmer…" He trailed off, exchanged a look with Jemma, and they both turned their full attention on Johnny and Steve.

"Uh…" Steve never said he was eloquent in social situations.

"You didn't," Jemma said in a flat tone.

"You did, didn't you?" Fitz added, looking at Johnny.

"Kind of?" Johnny said. "There's a betting pool involved now."

"So who is my soulmate?" Jemma asked, crossing her arms as she stared at Steve, arching an eyebrow. He squirmed.

"The guy… who usually wears that," he said, gesturing at the Captain America uniform with his eyes.

"Y'know, some things are starting to make sense," Fitz said.

"They are indeed," Jemma said, still eyeing Steve and making him feel uncomfortable (in more ways than one, goddamnit).

"I'd love t' go shoutin' to everyone that I've found my soulmate," Steve said, "but they'd all think you're… someone else's soulmate, which isn't fair to any of us. And it takes a hell of a long time to get in and out of the Captain America suit, I swear, it seriously isn't worth the effort when I… I mean, Johnny's gotta make a short speech, and I don't know whether he… I mean, whether _I_ have to say something to everyone on the behalf of… of his team, and we're _never_ doing this again, I swear to God, it's too confusing."

"So we got out soulmates around the wrong way when we met them," Fitz said.

"Hardly our fault, Fitz," Jemma said.

"Look," Johnny said, and crossing his arms like that made him appear more like Steve, especially when he dropped his voice. "Leo Fitz, I have your words on my body. They're not on… on _his_. You're my soulmate. This is just a stupid costume."

"Says the guy who wears the same blue lycra as the rest of his team," Steve muttered.

"At least my name isn't cheesy," Johnny countered. He shook his head. "We're getting off-track here. Look, if you want us to change in the bathroom, we can. It'll make it easier for you to tell us apart out in the future, when we're out in the field."

"I don't always wear this in battle," Steve said. "This is more for events. And you're usually on fire and flyin' around."

There was a pause, and then Fitz whispered something into Jemma's ear. Steve felt that flare of jealousy again, especially when she smiled.

"What a good plan," she said. "Very well, gentlemen. Keep up the charade for as long as you can. You will be judged on how well you do. The better your performance this evening, the better the rewards shall be. I hope you are amenable to our suggestion?"

"I'm not gonna ask where your soulmark is located, `cause it could make the rest of tonight extremely uncomfortable, if you know what I mean," Johnny told Fitz.

"Well, perhaps I'd better not tell you the kind of reward you'll get if you keep this up for another two hours," Fitz said, unblinking. Johnny looked like he wanted to devour his soulmate, and the only thing holding him back was Steve's hand.

"We're not sullying anyone's reputation by carrying on with them in public while we're wearing each other's clothes," Steve murmured. He felt Johnny's sigh more than he heard it, and didn't let go until he felt it was safe.

"Soon as tonight's over and we're in private, all bets are off," Johnny said. "Clothes, too, I hope."

"I'd never be able to look at Simmons' soulmate again if his doppelganger fucked me in his suit," Fitz said, and Steve heard Johnny's quiet whine.

"_I_ quite like the suit," Jemma said, trailing a finger down Steve's arm. He was pretty sure his and Johnny's soulmates were trying to kill them.

* * *

**Anything I tried to write after that felt clunky and awkward, so I discarded it in favour of the humorous ending, especially after the drama of the previous chapter.**

**Fitz/Johnny was for Anon. I was inspired by the Johnny/Phil/Steve chapter 'Mistaken Identity': what if they were pretending to be each other when both met their soulmates, only they didn't want to reveal what they were doing in a public place? Good thing FitzSimmons are geniuses.**

**Please review!**

**Fun fact: my mother once bought me a chocolate muffin which was so damn rich – chocolate batter, chocolate chips, chocolate syrup, icing sugar – that I was put off chocolate for three months as a consequence. Literally felt ill every time I thought about it. Good thing that wore off. :D Perhaps not so good for my waistline, but chocolate is chocolate.**


	121. Keeping Still (Bucky x Scott Lang)

**Note: Just a little rant… WHY DO SO MANY CHARACTERS HAVE THE SAME FIRST INITIAL? JUST… **_**UGH**_**! SO CONFUSING!**

"Keeping Still"

Was this the 'guy' the man with wings meant? (Sam Wilson. His name was Sam Wilson. The Asset… _Bucky_ had to remember this. Just like the other one was Steve Rogers, the one he knew. He knew him. So he had to remember him until… until he _remembered_ him.)

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Lang," Steve Rogers said, shaking the stranger's hand.

"Please, call me Scott," he said, and he glanced at the Asset… at Bucky. (Because that was his name, according to Steve Rogers. Steve.) "This is my patient?"

"Better you than Stark," Steve said, and… _Bucky_ knew that name was supposed to mean something to him, but he didn't know what.

"I'm flattered," Scott Lang said, and he ducked his head. "Here." He dropped a bag on the floor, startling Bucky. He couldn't really jump with his arm trapped like this, but he definitely skittered.

"Calm down, Bucky," Steve said.

"Sorry about that," Scott said, looking at Steve. "Uh, I'll get you to wear this." He handed over some kind of equipment. "So I can talk to you, in case I need either of you to do something on the outside while I work from the inside."

"Can't wait to see this," Steve said. "The incredible shrinking man, huh?"

"I prefer Ant-Man. It's snappier."

He stripped off his outer clothes while Steve put on whatever the equipment was, Sam helping him. Bucky wanted to watch them all, be aware of his surroundings, but once his attention was on Scott it stayed there. The man stopped at his underwear, and Bucky's mouth felt less dry as he took in all the smooth-looking skin he could see. It was… a reaction he couldn't understand. Something he was trying to remember, even though he'd never met this man before in his life. They still hadn't been introduced, and some small voice inside of him said a sly 'We'll have to change that, won't we?'.

"Take a Polaroid," Sam said, and Bucky nearly jumped again as his concentration was broken. "It'll last longer."

"He's not checking me out," Scott said, pulling on a grey-ish suit, skin tight. "He's nervous about this. Can't you see the way he's trembling?" Whatever the costume was, he dressed quickly, and Bucky felt a flash of anger when the helmet went on last of all, blocking the view. He growled, something outside of his control, and the helmet came off. Scott moved a few steps closer.

"Scott," Steve said. "Don't—"

"This is just protection," Scott told Bucky. "I won't hurt you. Just keep still, and I'll make this as quick and painless as possible." He strapped the helmet on, and Bucky missed whatever he said next. Since Steve replied, it probably wasn't meant for Bucky anyway, and he had more things to worry about. A whole other layer of worry, in fact, and he yelped when HIS SOULMATE disappeared before his very eyes.

"Where is he?" he barked.

"Relax, Bucky!" Steve said. "He's just shrunk down, that's all. He's called Ant-Man for a reason. He's gonna go inside your arm and fix it so we can free you, okay? Make sure that HYDRA didn't leave any nasty surprises."

"W-what if he gets hurt?" Bucky said, staring uncertainly. He noticed a tiny movement, and realised that Scott was somehow _flying_ towards Bucky's arm. "There might be something inside—"

"He's a highly competent, experienced engineer," Sam said. "And he ain't new to the superhero game. You've got nothing to worry about."

"But—"

"And he hasn't met his soulmate yet, so he won't die."

Had Bucky said anything to him? He'd forgotten all about soulmateship, but now it was flooding back to him, the words on his inner thigh that he'd noticed only the other week, _before_ he got trapped in here trying to find shelter from a storm. To be on the safe side, he kept perfectly still and silent, breathing as quietly as he could and not daring to even so much as twitch his fingers. It was fairly quiet inside his arm, so he could only rely on Steve's assurances and updates to know what was going on.

He had no idea how long it took before his felt the connection to his arm anew. He still refused to move it until Scott was clear, and the proud look on Steve's face made him feel warm inside for reasons he couldn't explain. When his soulmate sprang back to full-size, Bucky tested his arm, and sighed heavily in relief when he felt that it was his own again. He could move anywhere he wanted, and right now he knew exactly where he wanted to go.

Sure, Scott stiffened when Bucky hauled him in for a kiss – probably the shock – but he didn't shove Bucky back. Instead, they were separated when Steve tried to pull him away, and Bucky damn near lashed out at him. He kept hold of Scott with one hand, and refused to break eye contact with the curly-haired man.

"Hope ya don't mind me thankin' you like that," Bucky said. Something familiar and _right_ sat inside him, and he was bowled over with relief again when Scott's eyes widened and his lips parted.

"Oh," he said.

"Bucky, Scott has a daughter, so I'm pretty sure he's straight," Steve said, still tugging on Bucky's shoulder.

"N-no, y'know I'm pretty sure my soulmate could convince me otherwise," Scott said, looking dazed. Steve immediately let go of Bucky, who stepped closer to Scott. His soulmate didn't back off, so Bucky figured he wasn't too out of line.

"Well, I didn't see that coming," Sam said.

"You have a daughter," Bucky said, ignoring the other men in the room and focussing only on Scott. "Are you married?"

"Not anymore," Scott said. "We married for her sake… her mom's marrying her soulmate soon, he's a cop… kind of awkward since I was in jail, but that's another story. Uh. Wow." Bucky realised that one of Scott's hands was covering his, and the other scratched the back of his head. "You're Bucky Barnes, and you're my soulmate. I never saw this coming. _Wow_. Um…"

"If you don't want me around, I can go," Bucky offered.

"No!" Scott grabbed his upper arms. "No. Don't do that."

There were a few seconds of silence. Then Steve cleared his throat.

"We'll, uh, we'll give you a minute," he said. "C'mon, Sam."

Once they were alone, Bucky had to hold himself back from doing everything he wanted to do, which was a hell of a lot. It mainly involved touching his soulmate, every inch of him, to see whether he was real. Bucky knew he was _real_, of course, but to see if he was _real_. Real-real. It was so hard to know anymore, and if he was gonna be sure about anything it _had_ to be his soulmate.

"It's okay," Scott said, and he touched Bucky's cheek.

"Don't know what to do," Bucky whispered. "Dunno if I ever did. I can't _remember _it."

"You're not alone. You have me."

Bucky's hands shook as he tried not to touch. "Don't want you t' feel… obligated or nothin'."

"Hey, my soulmate would _never_ be an obligation," Scott said, scowling. "And _you_ are not an obligation to anyone. Do you think Steve believes that?" Bucky lowered his head, pressing into Scott's hand to maintain some contact. "Hey, wanna see my soulmark?"

It would show Bucky that this was real-real, so he nodded. It didn't make sense for Scott to hesitate, not when he'd offered, and he would've had to change back into his normal clothes anyway. But there was some pink on Scott's cheeks when he tugged at the side of his underwear, and Bucky saw the mark on his hip. He couldn't help smiling when he saw that it _was_ his writing, or at least what he was pretty sure his writing looked like.

"S'it yours?"

"Yeah," Bucky said. He traced the letters of his flippant, flirtatious remark with his metal fingers, and revelled in the shiver along his spine.

"Can I see mine?"

That was a reasonable request; yet Bucky was sure his cheeks turned bright red when he remembered where his soulmark was, and what it would mean. He stepped back quickly, and knocked into some machinery. He steadied it with unsteady hands, heart pounding wildly and head spinning as he tried to work out how to break the news.

"Uh…"

"You _do_ have a mark, don't you?" Scott said. Bucky noticed his confused look out of the corner of his eye.

"Y-yeah."

"But you won't show me?"

Bucky glanced around the room, and he _knew_ they were alone, but this was extremely embarrassing. It never would've been heard of in his day, he was sure. He'd never thought about other guys in that way, and Scott had a daughter. And Christ, what if Bucky scared her? But no, they wouldn't meet, not when Scott found out how they'd have to… _be_ to bond. He probably wouldn't wanna bond at all, knowing how messed up Bucky's head was, all the people he killed as the Winter Soldier.

"Bucky? I can call you Bucky, right?"

Bucky nodded. "Sorry. It's just… awkward place. It's, um…" He briefly met Scott's gaze, then looked at the floor again. "Leg. Upper leg. Inside. H-here." He gestured discreetly, before locking his fingers together and fidgeting as he waited for some kind of reply or rejection.

"…Okay, so I guess that kiss should've told me something," Scott said after an infinite pause. "Think I should tell you that, yeah, I did time, but I don't have… _that_ kind of experience."

"S'all… academic, anyway," Bucky said. "Not like you'd wanna bond with me or—"

"Where'd you get that idea?" he asked. "I'm not married anymore. My little girl will love you, by the way. She'll go crazy over your arm. But of course I'd want to bond with you. You're my _soulmate_, Bucky. What did you think that meant?" Bucky shrugged. "If you don't have any objections…"

"N-none."

"Then I don't see what the problem is."

Bucky could see plenty of problems. Wasn't this Scott guy supposed to be smart?

"Look," Scott continued. "We'll take it slow. Maybe ease up on the surprise kisses, `cause that scared the hell out of me for a second there. Now I know the reason… well, I'm flattered." His grin was infectious, and Bucky felt his lips tug up at the corners. "Just don't expect too much too soon. We're both new to this; there's no need to rush… that aspect of it."

"Okay," Bucky said quietly, relieved and terrified all at once. He couldn't… he _wouldn't_ screw this up.

* * *

**I can't wait for 'Ant-Man' to come out on DVD so I can get better at writing Scott Lang. Since this was from Bucky's confused point-of-view it was hard to do anything much in the way of analysing people with any accuracy. Had to rely on dialogue. I hope it didn't suck too much.**

**Please review!**


	122. Long Time Blanks (Pietro x Skye, Others)

**Note: 'Agents of SHIELD' is returning to American TV in less than a week, and I'll have to download the episodes since it'll probably be weeks before we get it here. So I'm trying to finish up the chapters-in-progress before it comes back, and while I'm still on holidays. This one took awhile to work on, and there are a number of pairings, so I apologise in advance. I tried to keep Pietro/Skye as the main one.**

"Long Time Blanks"

It was true that some people didn't get their soulmarks until after a major event in their life. Phil Coulson was surprised that his many near brushes with death in the course of his duty as a field agent never triggered even a single word. In the end, after leaving the field and becoming a handler, it was actual death which brought not just one, but _two_ marks. He didn't recognise the writing, and as insanity seemed imminent, he wasn't eager to find his soulmates. After HYDRA took SHIELD down, and Fury handed the reins to Phil, he all but forgot about the words on his skin.

No. If he found them now there was no way anything would happen. He had to keep his agents from too much danger, and keep the world safe from the likes of HYDRA.

If only he'd kept Trip safe. He honestly thought that since half of his original team were Blank, they'd make it through. Ward was marked, May got her mark after Bahrain (part of what led to the breakdown of her marriage), FitzSimmons were as close as soulmates, but only Fitz had words, and Skye was unmarked. Of the newest recruits, Hunter wasn't marked, and Bobbi and Mack were platonic soulmates.

So with several unmarked agents, and those marked not entirely happy, and being split apart by various difficulties… there was no time for nonsense like waiting for his own happily ever after. Too much to do. Too much angst to deal with.

"Do we still have a soulmark register?" Skye asked out of the blue, making Phil jump.

"What?" he said.

"Just wondering whether we still had to note down our soulmarks," she said.

"I thought you were Blank?" Phil said.

"Not after… the thing," she replied. "The cave-in, when Trip…"

He bowed his head. "Yes. But you're marked now?" She nodded. "I'm happy for you, Skye, I really am. Do you recognise the writing?"

"No, but it isn't in English," she said. "I'll have to find out what language it is."

"Right. The procedure is that you note down the first word of your mark, take a picture of the first word at least two letters long, and add it to the file. No one will look without your permission." He rifled through a drawer and pulled out a form. "You'll need a physical copy of the image; use my fax machine to print it out. I won't look, I promise."

"Just as well, considering where it is," she muttered. "DC, do you have any…?"

"Two of them," he said. "No idea who they are. I don't even think about it."

"Why not?" she said.

"There are more important things to worry about than—"

"Whatever Fate has planned for you?"

He exhaled heavily.

"Never mind," he said. "It'll happen when it happens. Can I ask something?"

"You want to know why I've waited this long," Skye said.

"Frankly, yes."

"Jiaying is dead, and Cal is gone," she said. "I don't have to worry about my crazy parents scaring off my soulmate. I've only gotta worry about my crazy co-workers scaring off my soulmate."

"Who are you calling crazy?" Phil asked, smiling.

"Not my definitely-not-crazy boss."

"Very diplomatic of you. Now go record your soulmark."

* * *

Wanda stroked her brother's hand, tears in her eyes.

"He had no soulmark before," she said. If the previous trauma in their life had not caused it, then he must have believed that he would never have a soulmate to find, leading to his reckless behaviour in Sokovia.

"Then you know he'll pull through," Fury said. "I've got somewhere else to be. Take care of him. Good luck, Miss Maximoff." The last was in Sokovian, to her surprise.

"Thank you," she said. Fury nodded, and he strode from the room. Wanda leaned forward in her chair, and pressed Pietro's palm to her cheek.

"We will find your soulmate," she said. "We _will_, Pietro. If it is the last thing I do, I will find the other half of your soul."

"We need an app for that," Stark muttered from the doorway. Wanda tightened her grip, still aggravated by the billionaire. Even though he offered them a place to stay, Wanda was reluctant to accept. Clint explained Obadiah Stane's deception, but the name Stark would never separate itself from the horror of that day. She regretted her actions in helping Ultron, and should have seen the kind of man Stark was when his worst nightmare was losing his friends. Yet it did not say much that it was only his new friends, not Colonel Rhodes or Miss Potts, who were among the dead, and she wished she had the courage to confront him about it.

Then again, perhaps her own powers had limited her to those she had seen. He was the one she hated the most. Had she unconsciously influenced his hallucinations? Regrets were no use to Pietro, nor Wanda's new mission.

"We're going to have some visitors," Steve said. Wanda looked over her shoulder, avoiding Stark's eyes. "Agents of SHIELD. Hill was just telling me about it."

"When?" Stark said.

"No idea. We're all busy. I guess it'll just be a matter of waiting for the right time."

"Unless one of them is Pietro's soulmate, I do not care to know," Wanda said.

"Better than a random citizen having to be drawn into our crazy life," Stark said.

* * *

Ward. He just wouldn't leave well alone. Now he was blaming May for him turning evil and taking over HYDRA, or whatever he'd done. He'd put those bullets in his girlfriend, believing her to be May. If he hadn't been so impulsive… but he was still in the habit of blaming other people for his own actions.

Skye gritted her teeth, reloading her gun while Ward shouted for May to show herself.

"She's not here!" Skye called back. "We told you. And no, we're not telling you where she is, either, `cause we don't know. Just leave us alone, and put HYDRA back in its box where you found it, okay? The world doesn't need any more jackasses. Like you," she added under her breath.

"Language, Skye," Coulson said over the comm. unit. She rolled her eyes.

"I said 'like you'," she said.

"Keeping mission transcripts clean, that's all."

"If you're sending them to the military, think again. They're army, Coulson. They swear like… like soldiers, I guess."

"That's no excuse," he said.

Skye ducked around the car, its occupants long gone, and took a few shots at Ward's lackeys, since he was still out of sight. They'd set off a series of bombs in Washington DC, too close to the White House. Fitz and Mack were working on disabling as many as they could remotely, a good distraction from the rock conundrum. Lincoln was with them, ready to fry any circuits as soon as the bombs were down. No kill like overkill.

She had to fall back behind the car when guns were turned on her.

'Son of a bitch' sounded so cool in Sokovian. Coulson couldn't complain about swearing as long as it was in another language, right? She ran from one hiding place to another, wishing that Bobbi was up and running, and that May was back. Down two field agents; not a good thing when the nation's capital was at stake. The leader, too. He was in some underground bunker, but that didn't keep him out of danger. Skye was pretty sure she'd read about some mutant dude lifting the presidential hidey-hole out of the ground once.

"Got Ward's location, but he doesn't stay in sight long enough," Hunter said.

"There's probably an exit out back," Coulson said.

"Nah," he replied. "He's making sure we can still see him. Either it's another bloke with a mask, or he's taunting us. Distraction?"

"Could be."

Skye took a few more shots, even hit a HYDRA sniper who was aiming at Hunter. Now that she knew where he was, she hurried closer.

"What the hell are you doing, Skye?" Coulson said. "Stay down!"

"I wanna see where Ward is," she said, poking her head around another vehicle. She saw a flash of his dark hair and pale face, recognised the profile immediately. "I've got him. Want me to take a… shoot." He'd disappeared again.

"Now you see my problem," Hunter said dryly. "Go back to your corner and cover the van. This is why you're not allowed near Ward."

"He's the reason Bobbi got herself shot, and he broke her leg," Skye reminded him.

"You're not helping, Skye," Coulson said. "We all hate him equally. He just creeps you out more. Now get back to your place, _carefully_."

With a huff, Skye moved. She was nearly back to her spot when there was a snapping sound and the pain of a burn on her shoulder. Something bowled her over, and she caught sight of the blood spreading from a bullet graze. Damn. It'd probably caught her bra strap, and it was hard to find good sports bras when on the run from HYDRA. She must've started swearing again, because there was a deep chuckle to her right, and she looked up into blue eyes. Silvery-white hair framed a tanned face, and her breath caught.

"They got you, but it does not seem serious," he said. In Sokovian.

"Good to know," she replied in the same language. "Thanks for saving me."

After a second, he smiled widely, and Skye couldn't help smiling back. But his eyes strayed back to her wound, and his lips tightened so much that they turned as white as his hair. Skye touched his arm, returning his attention to her.

"You should get back out there," she said, in English this time. He understood, at least.

"You are American," he said.

"Who started to learn Sokovian after she got a mark in a foreign language. Yeah."

He hummed. Hunter swore. Skye twisted around, and saw Ward stride out into the middle of the street, hands in the air. It was so tempting to shoot him down, but there were probably people around filming it, and SHIELD didn't need to be seen as the bad guys gunning down someone who was surrendering. If only they knew what a sly, slimy organisation HYDRA could be, they wouldn't be so quick to judge. Skye fingered the barrel of her gun anyway, and felt her soulmate tense beside her.

"I'm open to negotiations with the president!" Ward called. "By the way, there are ten more bombs around the city."

"There aren't anymore," the white-haired guy whispered. "Tony Stark has finished taking them all out. He's letting HYDRA think that they're still active."

"So technically we could take Ward out, as long as it was provoked," Skye said.

"We're not taking him out," Coulson hissed.

"This guy says… what's your name?"

"Pietro Maximoff," he replied. "Some call me Quicksilver."

She gaped. Her soulmate was an Avenger. Whoa.

"Tony Stark's disabled the rest of the bombs," she said. "Fitz, are you listening?"

"Heard you loud and clear, Skye," he said. "Just got a message on the screen from Tony Stark himself. I'm trying to stay calm, but… it's not working. Oh my God, a personal message from _Tony Stark himself_!"

"I'm gonna trigger Ward to attack, and then someone can take him out," Skye said.

"Are you crazy?" several people said at once, but Pietro's was loudest. Ward looked over in their direction, and Skye got an idea.

"Give it up, Ward!" she said. "I don't think you ever entirely got over me. Too bad for you, because I've met my soulmate, and he's a hero. A real, honest-to-God superhero. What are you? The bad guy. Again."

"Nice try," he said loudly. "Bit convenient for you to announce it now, don't you think?"

"Only just met him. It's not like we do much more than fight HYDRA these days. When else am I supposed to find my soulmate? He rescued me when one of your lackeys hit me in the shoulder. Ow, by the way!"

It looked like he _wasn't_ entirely over her, judging by his reaction to her words. He swung around, raising his wrist to his mouth and probably chewing out whoever shot at her. Skye heard the others debating over the comms, but she was distracted by Pietro, who was stroking her arms from behind.

"I will do whatever you want me to," he murmured. "Just say the word, Skye."

She was getting slightly distracted by the accent, and wondered whether swooning into his arms would be possible later, since now wasn't the best time. If the bullet wound was more than a graze, at least blood loss would've been a good excuse. Oh well. Better than the last time she was shot.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said.

"Screw it," Coulson said suddenly. Skye's eyes widened. "Carpe diem. Let's take out the son of a bitch. I'm tired of this."

"…Who are you, and what've you done with Coulson?" Mack said, sounding suspicious, and Skye honestly couldn't blame him for that.

"The Avengers will know I'm alive by now," he said. "Sooner we're done here, the sooner they can get their yelling over with and I can get on with work. `Sides, my arm's itching, and I can't scratch it. And there's a _Supernanny_ marathon that I'm gonna miss if we don't get a move on here. Let's just deal with him, okay? I…" He sounded weary, and he sighed. Skye's heart broke for him. "I'm tired. We're here, the Avengers are here. If this is all that's left of HYDRA, let's kill them. Now."

It was worse than Skye had thought, if Coulson was this depressed. Usually he'd be the benevolent leader, but Jemma's disappearance, Bobbi's injuries, and using TAHITI on Cal must've hit him hard all at once. He'd barely taken a break since then. He was only human, and he'd even given up on the idea of finding his soulmates, which was so incredibly wrong. Skye felt tears prickling her eyes.

"Sir, what're you doing?" Hunter said. Pietro pointed, and Skye gasped when she saw Coulson walking into the middle of the road, stopping only a few yards from Ward.

"You wanted to negotiate," Coulson said. "Negotiate with me."

"So one of your team can try to kill me again?" Ward said, shaking his head. "You're losing your touch."

"Kill you again? How could…? Oh, you mean try _again_ to kill you."

Ward huffed. "Like Simmons. She used to be such a good girl."

"If she changed it's because of you and HYDRA," Coulson said. "Now, here's how it's going to pan out. You'll surrender, and air your grievances to General Talbot from behind bars. I'm sure he'd like to see one of the people responsible for infiltrating his base to release Bakshi, and make sure that you're properly punished. If, however, you decide to co-operate, I'm sure we can strike some kind of deal. A cell with a window, halfway decent food, maybe even some musak piped through the walls. Oh, and a book. I'm sure you'd love to read some depressing Russian literature, wouldn't you? Then you could say 'woe is me' along with the characters."

"This is all bravado," Ward said. "You don't have a leg to stand on, Coulson."

"Correction: I have two legs and one arm. Plus this." His left hand shot out and he caught Ward's throat in his metal fingers. "This injury wasn't HYDRA's fault, but I'm taking advantage of it. You see, we have the Avengers. The stupid risk part is me coming out here to you, knowing one of your lackeys could shoot me where I stand. But I have a few things on my side. One, the Avengers have secured the president's safety, freeing some of the army personnel and my agents to find all your snipers. Two, I've got guns trained on you, so if either of us makes a wrong move, that person will be shot down. The odds are in my favour, though. I still haven't met my soulmates yet."

"You're lying."

"Does that hurt your feelings? Oh, I'm so sorry. Actually, I'm not. Say hello to a broken windpipe again." Skye looked away, scouting the area. She heard a choked sound from Ward, clear through the comms.

"Are all the HYDRA agents down?" she whispered.

"Romanov and Barton are doing a personal sweep, just in case my tech doesn't pick up everyone," Iron Man said, and Skye fell onto her ass out of shock. "Hey, you're Skye, right? I think you tried to hack SI once."

"You broke my hard-drive," she said, blinking.

"That's one I haven't heard before," he said in a deeper voice. "I think Agent's actually about to kill that guy. Can someone… y'know, stop him?"

"I'll go," Pietro said. Then he dashed off and pulled Coulson away from Ward, who sank to the ground, visibly wheezing. May would hate to have missed it.

"So that's it?" Fitz said.

"Not counting chickens or anything," Skye said. "Where's Talbot? What happened to the snipers?"

"I explained everything to Agent over the comms," Iron Man said.

"I didn't hear—"

"Sweetheart, you have a lot to learn. I blocked the other channels from hearing us."

"Don't call my soulmate 'sweetheart'," Pietro said, obviously also hooked up.

"Sorry, Quickie."

"I'm sure super-speed has its advantages in the bedroom," Skye said. "Just think how fast certain body parts can move."

"Skye, I didn't need to hear that," Coulson said dryly. She blushed.

"_That's_ what you chose to relay to everyone else, Stark?" she said.

"You've got terrible timing," Iron Man said. "Agent, don't think you're getting away."

"He's the director," Mack said, which made Coulson smile as he hauled Ward along.

"May's gonna be pissed when she finds out we did all this without her," Skye said.

"It's her own fault for taking a holiday," Coulson said. "Not that you're going to tell her I said that. Iron Man, I need to see Thor. He might be able to help us with this extra-terrestrial problem we have."

Skye assumed that the conversation continued, but she was kept out of the loop. Pietro held out a hand and helped her stand up, even though she didn't need any assistance. But it was a chance to touch her soulmate.

"You work for SHIELD, so I hope my powers do not frighten you," he said softly.

"I know a bit about powers myself," she said. "I'm not scared of you, Pietro."

He kissed her hands, and Skye melted. "Thank you," he murmured.

* * *

Thor stared at the inky substance in the glass case, fingering Mjolnir where it hung down his side.

"I have not seen anything like it before," he said. "And I do not believe that Jane's research covers a phenomenon such as this."

"One of our scientists is stuck in there," Phil said. "She's one of the few people I know who could find the answer."

"If only we knew where Dr. Banner is," Thor said.

"He's a specialist in gamma radiation, not alien artefacts."

"True, but has he not had contact with Loki's sceptre before?" Phil didn't comment; it was bad enough that the last time he'd seen Thor it was just before he died. In fact, he was the third last person Phil saw. "Son of Coul?" A large hand squeezed his shoulder, surprisingly gentle. "I apologise for bringing up the past."

"Not a problem," Phil said. "Our current problem is Simmons's disappearance."

"Simmons?"

"Jemma Simmons. That's her name."

Thor stared at him for several disconcerting seconds.

"Hmm," he said noncommittally.

"Any idea what we should do next? Would it help to ask your father?"

"I do not know how far Odin's knowledge extends," Thor said. "Seeing this reminds me of the Aether." He shivered. "It was terrible to witness Jane's torment."

"How is Dr. Foster?" Phil asked, his eyes still on the box. "And her colleagues?"

"They are all well. Jane is happy with her soulmate in London, and I visit when I can. I tend to keep away from Greenwich."

Phil winced in sympathy. "Yeah, it was fun cleaning that up. I can't imagine what it was like being part of the destruction. Good thing you weren't tearing up an Oxford college, or there'd be definite retaliation."

"Sir?" Fitz said, poking his head into the room. He still hadn't ventured close, likely because he was the one who accidentally opened the box in the first place.

"What is it, Fitz?" Phil said. He glanced at Thor. "This is Leo Fitz, our engineer. He's like a younger, Scottish version of Stark. Fitz, this is Thor."

"A-a pleasure to meet you, your highness," Fitz mumbled, staring at Thor with widening eyes. "Uh, sir? I was wondering how it was going."

"We still haven't decided on a course of action."

"Oh." Fitz drooped, and turned to leave.

"Halt!" Thor said, making everyone jump. "Come back here."

"Thor, you can't tell my agents what to do!" Phil said, exasperated.

"He _is_ a prince," Fitz said, and he crept a few feet into the room. "Can I help you? I have some experience in fixing Asgardian objects—"

"What does your soulmark say?" Thor asked. Fitz's face turned red.

"That's none of your business," he retorted. "Besides, I can't even read it."

"Yet perhaps this is your writing," Thor said. He was wearing casual clothes, so he just pulled his t-shirt off. Nobody in the room could've resisted a look at those abs, although Fitz's attention was arrested for another reason entirely, and Phil knew why. That writing matched every form Fitz had signed, and a quick look confirmed that Fitz was blushing.

"Uh… looks like it," he squeaked.

Thor chuckled. "You can take a closer look if you wish."

Fitz almost stumbled as he hurried forward. Thor caught him before he could fall flat on his face, and Fitz steadied himself against Thor's chest. He yelped, and lowered his hands, flailing as he tried to find an appropriate place to put them. Phil was torn between face-palming and laughing.

"We'll leave you alone," he said.

"Son of Coul," Thor said. "Perhaps it would be advisable to call Lady Pepper and tell her that it may be her soulmate trapped in that rock."

Phil blinked. "What?"

"She has been looking for a Jemma Simmons for some time. It could well be her."

Slightly dazed, Phil led the team out, and left someone on guard outside, so Fitz and Thor could leave without having to remember to shut the door. And spray them with cold water if things got heated, because Fitz looked like he wanted to devour Thor.

"I'll… make that call, then," he said. "Uh, Skye? Could you find…? Wait, no. Simmons doesn't have a soulmark, or she would've registered it."

"Maybe this is the traumatic experience she'll go through to get her mark?" Skye said.

"Or maybe it's not the right Jemma Simmons," Phil said grimly, "and she won't be back to get a mark at all." Like Trip.

* * *

Pepper's hands shook as she hung up the phone. She'd been told that Phil was alive, but it was one thing to know it, another thing altogether to hear his voice. Tony had already arranged a ride out to the SHIELD base for her.

Because the other reason she trembled was the idea that her soulmate was there, trapped in a giant black rock which no one knew anything about. Thank goodness Thor had promised to ask his father as soon as he tore himself away from _his_ soulmate.

"Happy?" Pepper called. Her bodyguard jumped into the room.

"Yes, Ms. Potts?" he asked.

"I'm taking a short trip… I hope."

"You _hope_?" he said.

"Thor may have found my soulmate, but she's in trouble. Tony's sending transport; it'll be here any minute."

"You're closing up shop early."

"Yes," she said. "I'm going to need your help—"

"Whatever you need me to do, Ms. Potts."

It was nice having trustworthy employees. Happy sneaked Pepper out, leaving her assistant to clear the afternoon schedule and be ready to move other appointments. The rest of security made sure no one would know that Pepper was leaving until long after she'd gone, and since she didn't even know herself where the base was there were no co-ordinates to keep from anyone. Happy went with her, and Maria promised to organise an overnight bag for Pepper if it became necessary.

By the time she got there, it was hard to know whether it _would_ be necessary.

"You mean I missed all the action?" she asked, standing beside Phil, her arms crossed as they stood just outside the door to the ward.

"It was pretty anti-climactic," Phil said. "Kind of disappointing. Still, I can't call it a waste of a visit for Thor, considering that he and Fitz found each other. And that you and Simmons might be…" He glanced at her as he trailed off. "She didn't have a mark before she went in, but Skye checked, and she has one now. She showed me, and it matches your writing. Of course I can't tell you what it says…"

"Understandable," Pepper said. "I didn't get my soulmark until after I was infected with the Extremis virus and…" She cleared her throat. "Killed Aldrich Killian."

"Don't feel badly about it."

"I try not to, but…"

He patted her arm. "I know. Look." He pointed. "She's waking up. I'll check on her first. If she's coherent, I'll bring you in. Okay?" She nodded, and he entered the room and approached Jemma's bedside. On the other side of the room was another bed, occupied by a disgruntled man called Hunter. Apparently the woman in the chair beside him, her leg bound in a cast, was his ex-wife Bobbi. She was still reaming him out for jumping into the rock to save Jemma.

The way Phil told it, when Thor said that Odin was busy at the moment, but he would look into the rock as soon as possible, Hunter grabbed rope and a crossbow, secured one end of the rope to a pole in the room, and then opened the door of the box. He let the waves pull him in, somehow found Jemma, and shot a line into the wall above her. He sent a pulley along it, and she travelled back across the line to him. Then they'd used the rope around his waist to find their way out again. All because his ex had told him that she couldn't keep doing 'this' – which he took to mean their on-again-off-again relationship – and decided that since he didn't have a soulmark he had nothing to lose. It was brave and stupid, and exactly the kind of thing any of the Avengers might've done, so it felt startlingly familiar to Pepper.

"Oh my God, you're Pepper Potts."

She turned her head and saw Pietro with his soulmate. Pepper held out her hand, and the young woman gaped back at her.

"Hello," Pepper said. "You must be Agent Skye."

"Yeah. Oh man, I never thought I'd meet you. This is a huge honour. I mean, I'm a hacker, so I'm a Stark girl all the way, but you're seriously cool. If you were a SHIELD agent, I'd aspire to be like you. Still, May's an excellent role model and I'm rambling."

"Yes, you are," Pietro said, and he kissed her on the cheek. Pepper turned back to the doorway when she heard someone murmuring in a British accent.

"You're lucky," Skye said. "She's on the good stuff at the moment, so she won't be super-intimidated. Or I guess not. I haven't seen her medicated before – she's usually the one patching us up – but if she's kinda out of it… actually, I'd pay to see that."

"It is a private moment, Skye," Pietro said.

"Our moment wasn't private!"

"Yes, but our moment was in Sokovian," he replied. "How many people do you know who speak Sokovian?"

"…Point."

Phil was beckoning, so Pepper hurried to the bedside, in no fit state of mind to pay any more attention to the debate behind her. The pretty Englishwoman gazed up at her blearily, and smiled when Pepper took her hand.

"We haven't met," Pepper said, and she rubbed the cool skin of Jemma's thumb. "I'd say it's about damn time."

"I'm… Jemma Simmons," Jemma said. "It's lovely to meet you."

"You too," Pepper said, and she sank onto the chair Phil carefully slid behind her.

"You seem… familiar." Her voice was a little slurred, which Pepper could understand; she was being monitored after being in the rock for weeks. Even Hunter was being monitored, and he'd only been in there for five to ten minutes.

"I'm Pepper."

"Huh." Jemma's eyes fluttered as she smiled tiredly. "Like Pepper Potts. Even have her hair. So pretty. So…" She yawned, and then drifted off. Pepper stayed where she was.

"It's her," she said. "Those were my words. Does she… would she only want a platonic bond, or would she be okay with something… less platonic?"

"That's something you'd have to discuss with Simmons, not me," Phil said.

"Do you think there'll be any more links between SHIELD and the Avengers?"

He snorted softly. "I highly doubt it."

"And what about you?" Pepper tilted her head, but she couldn't take her eyes off her soulmate's peaceful face.

"Me?"

"Your soulmate?"

"…Huh. I always forget about them."

Pepper frowned, squeezing Jemma's hand. "How could you _forget_ your _soulmate_?"

"I have two soulmarks, and I think I'm a bit too old and weary for that kind of thing anymore. They'd be better off without me, whoever they are."

"That's not true, Phil. That's not how Fate works."

"Even though all our soulmarks have been brought on by trauma?" he said. Pepper couldn't think of a good answer for that fast enough. "I'm going to file the paperwork for this. If you need me, I'll be in my office."

* * *

Skye wasn't there when Simmons woke up lucid and found out that Pepper Potts was her soulmate. According to Hunter it was 'extremely entertaining' (i.e. _hilarious_), but Bobbi had vetoed anyone accessing the security footage of the moment. Since Skye couldn't find it, she presumed that Stark had deleted it himself, more considerate than most people would credit him for.

And wow, she was sharing breathing space with the Avengers! And one of them was her soulmate! Okay, not one of the ones who'd saved New York from aliens, but her own European speedster with enough facial hair to give her some nice stubble burn and silver locks long enough to scrunch her fingers in when she tugged him in for a smooch. (She was right about the benefits of a fast tongue.)

But it was stupid how Coulson kept avoiding them. He'd greeted most of the Avengers, especially Pietro and Wanda, and begged Thor not to be hard on Sif the next time he saw her. But he hadn't seen the others yet, and some were still missing.

"How's your sister?" Romanov asked the second Hawkeye stepped into the room.

"Hi, Natasha," he said. "How are you? I'm fine, thanks for asking." She didn't reply; only arched an eyebrow. "Laura's okay. So is her husband and the kids. They all send their love to you, and to Phil. You know, when we finally see him. Say, has Cap arrived yet? He's bringing Barnes. I think they want to get him checked out here. Has Bruce showed up?"

"No," she said. "You're the first to come today. No word from Banner."

"Clint!" Pietro piped up, squashed into an armchair beside Skye. She was sort of half sitting in his lap, and blushed when Clint looked over at them. "This is my soulmate, Skye. Isn't she beautiful?" Great. That made Skye's cheeks even redder.

"Very," Barton said. "Nice to meet you, Skye."

"Likewise," she managed, poking Pietro in the stomach. Damn, was he seriously pure muscle under his skin? That was so unfair.

"Barbara?"

"Hello, Clint," Bobbi said. "Long time."

"Heard you got married."

"To Hunter, but it didn't last," she said, tilting her head towards Hunter. He was still supposed to be taking it easy (ha!), but instead he was watching Mack and Stark play video games in the corner. "Hey, Hunter! You remember me talking about Clint?"

"Every other week while we were married," he muttered, loudly enough for the rest of them to hear. Skye noticed Barton and Bobbi wince at that. He spared Barton a quick once-over. "Hey, mate. How's it going? There. Small talk over with."

He'd been a bit pissy since everyone gave him hell for undertaking what could've been a suicide mission when he rescued Simmons. It was pretty hypocritical considering the number of times they'd done stupid things like that, so Skye could understand his irritation. She was more surprised by the dumbfounded look on Barton's face.

"You're a great conversationalist," he remarked slowly. Hunter made some dismissive sound and returned to watching the game.

"When you're not always heard," he said.

"How long have you had your soulmark?"

There must've been some kind of crash in the game, because as one Stark and Mack dropped their controllers and everyone stared at Barton. It took longer for Hunter to register what Hawkeye had said. When it did, his head whipped around and he stared at the archer, mouth dropping open.

"I… I found it yesterday," he said. "I think… probably since I came out of that rock, like Simmons. Didn't have it before, and nothing traumatic has happened to me since. Well, except for being chewed out by everyone."

"Did I say your words?" Barton said. Hunter nodded.

"There's another link between SHIELD and the Avengers," Simmons said, curled up beside Pepper, who'd stopped whatever she was working on to watch the scene as well.

"Even better," Skye said, leaning into Pietro's hold. "Another reason for us to move closer to the Avengers base or Stark Tower."

"Or move in," Stark said pointedly.

"I'll go where you go," Pietro told Skye. She kissed him quickly, overwhelmed by affection.

"Good thing Thor lives on Earth," she said. "It'd be hell to split up FitzSimmons."

"We're two independent people," Simmons protested.

"Moving on," Barton said. "Hunter, is it?"

"Lance Hunter," Bobbi added.

"Can I talk to you somewhere more private? Without a peanut gallery?"

"Um, yeah," Hunter said, sliding off the stool he'd been perched on. "Follow me."

"Sure is an excellent view," Barton said as Hunter walked past, his eyes trailing down Hunter's body. Okay, Skye didn't need to think about that; Hunter was like a brother to her, so no matter how hot Hawkeye was, her mind wasn't going there.

* * *

This was probably supposed to be what family was like. Pietro had come to forget what it was like to have anyone on his side other than Wanda. Now they were surrounded by secret agents and superheroes, chatting loudly, some of them arguing. Soulmates were side by side, rarely not touching. Pietro had his arm around Skye's waist, letting his attention wander from the debate she was having with Barton and Hunter, and taking in all the groups around the meeting area in the Avengers Headquarters.

Fitz and Thor were a strange pair, the Asgardian often grinning down at his soulmate, while Fitz shuffled in place and shrank back into Thor's side. Sometimes Pietro saw him pinching his arm before looking up at Thor again, as though he couldn't believe it was real. They were a contrast to Simmons and Miss Potts, who had learned to communicate silently in very little time, and Hunter and Barton, who were as bad as each other in some ways, and deeply affectionate when they thought no one was looking.

There were two noticeable people missing. Coulson had muttered something about Captain America wanting to draw out the suspense as punishment when Rogers and Barnes didn't show up on the ship. Wilson had arrived without them, and blamed the bond between Barnes and Rogers as the reason they kept being late. 'Getting distracted by one another' was the implication.

"Fuck this," Coulson said, and everyone who heard stopped talking and stared. Pietro had no idea why; they'd all heard him swear before. "When he… they're ready to see me, tell them to make and _keep_ an appointment. I'm returning to base."

"Phil," Barton said. "They'll be h—"

The doors opened, and Skye tensed as Rogers and Barnes strode in, imposing even in casual clothes. Rogers headed straight for the director, and Coulson stepped back. Pietro didn't blame him; the captain looked like he was torn between throttling or punching the man. He wasn't sure when he started moving, but he ran ahead of Skye and stood between Coulson and Rogers. The captain pulled up short.

"He matters to my soulmate," Pietro said. "And the soulmates of our team-mates."

"I guess you have the right kind of friends, don't you?" Rogers said, glaring over Pietro's shoulder at Coulson.

"DC, what's the matter?" Skye said. She was at Pietro's side again.

"N-nothing," he replied quietly. Pietro looked back over his shoulder and noticed how pale Coulson's face was. Again, he couldn't blame the man for his reactions to Captain America being threatening.

"I hope you've explained yourself to the others," Barnes said.

Instead of answering, Coulson nodded, and backed up further. May – who terrified her team's soulmates when they finally met – stopped him mid-step.

"Really, Phil?" she said, keeping a hand on his back.

"Gotta sit down," he said. "I'll… be with Lola." (And if Pietro could fall in love with anyone who wasn't his soulmate, he'd probably lose his heart to that car.)

"Rogers's type must be people with metal arms," she remarked. Pietro heard Simmons gasp, and saw her cover her mouth.

Skye must have realised at the same time as Pietro, because she whispered, "Holy shit!"

"What?" Rogers asked, and he peered at Coulson. Pietro edged in front of him, still protective, even though it was becoming obvious that Rogers and Barnes had said Coulson's soulmark words.

"I'm gonna go," Coulson said, trying to pass Pietro.

"Steve," Barnes said suddenly, and he tugged Rogers's sleeve.

"What is it, Buck?"

"I… think we might've said his words."

Pietro sensed Coulson freezing behind him. The captain looked at him, eyes widening, and then swore.

"I'm sorry," Coulson said. "I'm sorry."

"Christ, don't apologise," Rogers said, and he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't've reacted like that. You deserve better." Coulson didn't reply. "I guess I should introduce you to Bucky."

"Not necessary. I'd see myself out… but now that you're here, we'd better get down to business. Too many of your people are linked to agents of SHIELD, and I'm not parting anyone without their mutual consent. Since I don't think that consent will be given, we need to—"

"Can we talk?" Barnes said. He was half-hiding behind Rogers. "Elsewhere?"

"I don't think that will be necessary, Sergeant Barnes. There's a conference room over here, big enough to hold all of us—"

"Don't be stupid, Agent Coulson!" Rogers snapped. There was a pause, and then Coulson straightened his shoulders.

"Director Coulson," he said softly. Rogers looked contrite, and scowled when Barnes poked him in the side.

"The three of us need to talk about this," he continued. "You and I as team leaders, and I doubt Bucky's gonna want me to see you without him."

"Damn right," Barnes added.

"So either we have it out here, or we talk in private. It's up to you, director."

Coulson glanced around at those in his line of sight, and then stepped to the side.

"This way," he said, and he led them to one of the doors. He ushered the two men into the room ahead of him, hesitating before he followed them inside and shut the door.

"They won't dare separate us," Pietro said, breaking the silence. He pulled Skye close, tucking her head under his chin. "Coulson promised."

"This whole thing has him punishing himself again," she said. "He's not gonna stop easily, especially if people keep antagonising him. But… thanks. For sticking up for him." She wound her arms around Pietro, and he smiled into her hair.

"Is it terrible that I did it all for you?" he asked. Skye hummed, tickling his neck.

"If that's the case then I'll have to punish _you_," she said. "How does spanking sound?"

Pietro blushed.

* * *

**Pietro/Skye was requested by IvyH; Fitz/Thor was requested by beauty_is_in_the_eye_of_the_beholder and elenorasweet; and Clint/Hunter was requested by sabelle67 and KTT2123. I've written background Bucky/Phil/Steve before, but it was requested by tinyballoflight with someone saying that Steve's type is people with metal arms. Okay, I'd planned it to be a bit more light-hearted, but then angst happened. The reunion between Phil and the Avengers had better be damn good, or I'm demanding my money back.**

**What's the betting SHIELD will get the last infinity stone, and they'll show up to help the Avengers in the final film? That would be so cool… and **_**way**_** too far away.**

**Please review!**

**(Did ya see the minor 'X-Men: Days of Future Past' reference?)**


	123. Outside the Pub (Peggy x Phil)

**Note: I still haven't seen 'Daredevil', 'Agent Carter', or the first episode of season three of 'Agents of SHIELD' yet, so NO SPOILERS, please.**

"Outside the Pub"

"It's reconnaissance," Peggy said, touching the door handle. "Don't leave me waiting outside the pub for too long. It will look suspicious after, say, fifteen minutes. If I'm fortunate enough to get inside, give me half an hour unless I send for help sooner."

"Careful," Jarvis said.

"You too," she said, and she slipped out of the car. She used the night-darkened window to check her hair and makeup, adjusted the tilt of her hat, and walked across the road towards the public house. There were groups of people outside, and it seemed an innocent enough cover. Too innocent, and according to her contacts known ex-HYDRA agents frequented the place. The problem was that it could be quite exclusive, and it looked as though people were being turned away tonight. She pursed her lips as she paused by a lamp-post, before telling herself that she was being ridiculous. Single people weren't being turned away, only couples and groups.

Peggy skipped neatly out of the path of those being rejected, and joined the queue. It was moving quickly, she noted. The clump of men ahead of her kicked up a fuss when they were refused entry, and slunk off to the side. Good thing, too; if she'd helped 'encourage' them to leave, it might blow her cover. She could pass for an American if necessary, but in a fight her accent had been known to slip.

"Well, hello, there," she said, batting her eyelashes at the men guarding the door and smiling. "What does a lady have to do to get inside?"

"If you wanna drop the lady part, we can give ya a _much_ better time," one of the sore losers said, leering at Peggy.

"Leave the lady alone," a stranger said, appearing at Peggy's side. "Get lost before someone calls the cops on you."

Irritated, Peggy barely retained her false accent.

"I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself," she said, slowly and stiffly. "I don't need your help."

The man snorted. "I don't doubt that, but some guys have no respect for women."

That was terribly unexpected.

"Are you one of those guys?" she said, nearly slipping and saying 'men'.

"Nope." In the uneven light, she noticed the bright teeth of a wide smile, and indeterminately-coloured eyes. She clutched her handbag.

"Did I say your soulmate words?" she asked.

"…Oh my God." He moved nearer, and she saw that his eyes were a shade of blue-grey. "I didn't think… I'd almost given…" His gaze swept over her. "This is really bad light, but I can tell you're stunning. Wow. Uh, hi." He offered his hand. "I'm… Phil. Phillip, but call me Phil. And yes, you said my words. Did I say yours?"

"Yes," Peggy said. Her heart raced, and she shook his hand. There was a beep nearby, and they both looked over at the men standing guard, who were holding an unfamiliar device, a wand pointing their way.

"They've really just met," one of them said, sounding astonished. "Jesus Christ, get them inside! Mickey, get `em drinks on the house!"

Peggy laughed shortly, grabbing Phil's wrist as they were ushered into the pub, his skin warm and tingling beneath her palm. She didn't risk looking back, her emotions in a complete jumble. She'd successfully gained entrance to a possible HYDRA meeting place, apparently thanks to meeting her soulmate outside. By chance.

Fate was clearly on her side.

"This was the last thing I imagined would happen when I came here," Phil said, twisting his hand so their fingers were entwined. Mickey left them at the bar with instructions to the bartender to give them free drinks.

"Surely you're not complaining?" Peggy said while they waited for their order.

"Far from it," he said. "What's your name?"

It was on her lips before she could stop. "Peggy."

"Peggy?"

"We have the same initials, unless you spell your name with an 'f' instead of 'p-h'," she said, hoping he didn't notice her slip, nor her nervousness. At least that could be explained away by their surprise meeting.

"Definitely 'p-h', like the prince," he said.

"Prince?"

His eyes widened briefly, and Peggy realised she hadn't studied him properly yet, nor seen his soulmark. She'd thought perhaps the darkness outside had made his eyes seem darker than they were, but under the pub lights they were plenty dark. There were faint lines at the corners, and she wondered how old he was. But there was youth there, she could see that, and kindness, the same kindness in his voice.

"Isn't… isn't there a prince named Phillip?" he said. "Or was? I'm sorry. European history was never my strong point."

Peggy smiled, and took a small sip, admiring the blush on his cheeks as he drank a third of his moonshine.

"I'm surprised," she said. "I was unaware that American schools studied European history."

"My father was a history teacher," he said. "Different school, though. I had enough of that at home."

"He doesn't teach anymore?"

He laughed shortly. "No. He, uh, died when I was…" He trailed off, and Peggy knew she couldn't press the subject.

"Thank you for speaking up for me at the door," she said, leaning closer to him to be heard over the noise. "In my job I'm so used to men looking down on me, and it never hurts any less. I just take it on the chin and give as good as I can get… without getting the sack."

"I'm sorry," Phil said, and he rested his hand over her arm. He studied her intently, and Peggy wanted to duck her head. But she held her head high, aware that he wasn't trying to intimidate, just get the measure of her. "You're even more beautiful than I thought. I'm having trouble taking this in."

"Oh." Peggy was also accustomed to getting the wrong kind of looks, but Phil's honest appreciation caused a flush high on her cheeks. She glanced away, and was jolted out of it when she recognised an agent of HYDRA at a small table by the back wall. She straightened up when he looked in their direction, and blocked his view by reaching up and touching Phil's cheek. His lips parted in obvious shock, and she wanted to giggle. _Giggle_. She refrained. "I think you're a bit of alright as well, Phil No-Last-Name."

He grinned, although his cheeks grew redder. "As long as you don't mind being Peggy No-Last-Name."

His words sunk in, and Peggy gaped.

"Was… was that a proposal?" she said.

"What…? Oh! Oh, no. No, it wasn't. I mean, not that I don't want to, because you're my soulmate, and I'd love to… but we've only just met."

"I see." _Focus_, she told herself. "The reason I came here tonight… is for work. I can't tell you who I work for—"

"Wait." He tensed, and experience taught her that he was trying not to look as though his world had been turned up on its head. "I've seen you before. Peggy… you're _Peggy Carter_?" He whispered the last part, thankfully.

"I… I don't know what you—"

"That explains the accent," he said. "I thought transatlantic like Cary Grant—"

"Cary Grant?" she said. This night had turned from promising to marvellous to horrifying in a short amount of time.

"…Oh God, please tell me he was around in the forties," Phil muttered.

"In the _f_…" Peggy tried to catch her breath, and checked around them. Everyone else was still in conversation, apparently not paying them any mind. "Perhaps we should take this elsewhere?"

"Yeah," he said. He downed the rest of his drink, and Peggy only managed half of hers, grateful that at least they were on the house. Better than wasting money. Phil raised his voice. "I should show you my soulmark." He leaned on the bar, catching the barkeep's attention. "Is there somewhere private for us to check…?" He gestured between them, and the bartender nodded towards a hallway.

"Rooms have been put aside tonight especially for people who've met their soulmates here," he said. "Only curtains for cover, so keep it clean, and leave the curtains open when you're done so other people know the space is unoccupied."

"Got it," Phil said. This time, his hand was around Peggy's wrist, and it felt far less reassuring. They found an empty cubicle, and Phil pulled the curtain across, before sitting beside Peggy on the loveseat. It kept them close together, probably just as well considering how quiet they had to be.

"An interesting set-up," she remarked softly.

"So this is when soulmate single's nights began," he said. "In the forties. I didn't think it was until…"

She cleared her throat. "Who do you work for?"

"An organisation that isn't… exactly around. It came from the Strategic Scientific Reserve, however."

"Which explains why you know my name, if you work for a branch of the SSR," she said. There was no point in maintaining the American accent, not in private with her soulmate. "What is your surname?"

"Coulson," he said. "I come from… I've just come from the twenty-first century. I'd given up hope of finding my soulmate there, and I honestly didn't anticipate finding them here, let alone it being _you_. I came here because I was following up a lead. One of my agents is missing, and I tried to follow her. Everything pointed to this place."

"You think she's here?" Peggy asked, leaning closer to Phil. Only to make sure they could keep their voices down and still be heard clearly by each other. That was all. It had nothing to do with his arm around her shoulders or how warm he was against her side. "Where?"

"If not her, the key to getting her back… or getting home, with or without her." He grimaced. "I don't want to leave her behind. But I had no idea I'd end up going back in time. She could be in a completely different era, or home already. I have no way of contacting my team." She saw moisture building in his eyes, and her heart ached.

"I can help you look for her," she said.

"I can't ask that of you. If you're here for official business… damn it, I wish I could tell you more, but I can't risk changing the future."

"I understand."

"And I wish I could take you with me, to a time and place where you'd be appreciated, but it's impossible."

"If you can't go home, you could stay here?"

"That's the thing about the future," he whispered, and he looked down at her. "I know I won't."

"Will I go with you?"

Phil shook his head. "Not unless you leave a Life Model Decoy of yourself behind."

"What's that?"

"Never mind. I don't think the technology even exists where I come from."

Peggy swallowed as she nodded, regretting that she'd come here tonight, but knowing she would always cherish meeting her soulmate, even under these circumstances. She tried to memorise his features; if he wasn't meant to stay then any moment could be her last chance. And God knows she hated missing her chances.

"Can I kiss you, Peggy?" Phil murmured. Peggy's breath caught in her throat, but she nodded, and met him halfway.

The first press of lips was soft, and she barely had time to wonder whether he was being gentle with her before he ran his tongue along her lower lip. She gasped, parting her lips like this was second nature, and soon realised exactly _why_ so many soulmates waited until they were married before kissing for the first time. Peggy wound her arms around his shoulders and he hauled her close, one arm around her waist and the other hand rubbing up and down her side. It was overwhelming, and she couldn't pull herself away, not even slap his hand as it swept down her side, under her rear, and along her thighs. He lifted her onto his lap with surprising strength, and Peggy _knew_ she was not behaving like a lady. Nor, at this particular moment, did she care. It wasn't until she registered his calloused hand on the skin of her back that she shook herself out of it.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry, I got carried away," Phil said, placing her beside him.

"No, not at all," Peggy said, picking up her hat from where it had fallen when he knocked it off. "Perhaps… may I see your soulmark?"

He coughed, looking bashful, and then stood up and unbuttoned his jacket. Peggy questioned the wisdom of her request when it occurred to her that he would likely ask for reciprocation, although curiosity won out as he opened his shirt and flipped his tie out of the way. She stood and went to him, tracing the words in her writing. They ended beside a long scar over his heart.

"What happened?" she said.

"An alien god stabbed me with a magical sceptre," he said. Peggy took that to mean that it was classified. While she was peeved about the obvious lie, she understood that questions about the future were dangerous.

"Of course," she murmured.

"I… I won't ask to see your mark. I can only guess where it is…"

Peggy summoned confidence, and met Phil's eyes as she shrugged off her coat. Then she slowly unbuttoned and peeled off her blouse, and turned so that he could read her soulmark. She shivered when he ran his finger over the letters, and he kissed the back of her neck.

"I wish…" He trailed off again.

"What do you wish, Phil?" she said, turning her head slightly.

"That this moment could last forever."

Bowing her head, Peggy whispered, "So do I."

In the distance, there was music playing. Peggy slipped her clothes back on while Phil tidied himself up. There was work to be done, and they'd wasted enough time as it was. (Not that Peggy could ever think of it as a waste, but she had a job to do, and getting cosy with her soulmate was not part of the plan.)

"I need to find the rock," Phil said.

"Rock?"

"The one that swallowed s… my agent. I let it take me so I could find her, and ended up a few miles away. As far as I can work out, it was moved here. If only I'd brought the kind of equipment I'd need to track it. If she's in her right mind, she'll have followed the trail here as well."

"I can keep an eye out for her," Peggy said. "At least let me do that much for you."

"No, Peggy. You do what you came here to do. And in case I don't see you again… take care." He squeezed her hand, but seemed to think better of kissing her. With a final, sad smile, he parted the curtains, looked both ways, and stepped out of the recess. Peggy followed him, holding back from catching his hand.

"Sir?"

"Simmons?" Phil glanced back at Peggy once, before heading towards a lost-looking young woman, whose jaw dropped when she saw Peggy. "Thank God. We thought we'd lost you. Fitz didn't give up hope—"

"Sir, isn't that—?"

"Yes, now be quiet."

Simmons gave Peggy a small wave over Phil's shoulder, and Peggy couldn't help the surge of jealousy she felt as he grasped the woman's elbow. She jumped when she heard shouting and banging from the bar, including some familiar voices. She thought she heard Simmons mention HYDRA, and chose to pursue her soulmate and his agent. If she'd seen former members of HYDRA then… well, Peggy needed something to show for her evening.

Had it really been more than half an hour?

"Here it is!" Simmons said, pulling Phil into a large room. There were other people milling around a glass case with a large rock inside. As she watched, it turned to liquid, beating against the walls…

The rock. This was the one Phil had referred to.

"It's the SSR!" someone called from the next room, and Peggy bit her lip, torn between guarding the rock and helping her colleagues.

"This must be how shield got it," Phil said. "Come on, Simmons."

"Sir…"

"Look, we have to do this if we want a chance of getting home. Are you with me or aren't you?"

"…Yes, director."

Director? Peggy's soulmate would become director of something? Well, well. She smiled bitterly, wishing she could see it for herself. Would she lose her mark after he left, and possibly gain a new one? Generally people received a soulmark for life, but anything could happen.

"Goodbye."

She looked over her shoulder, meeting Phil's eyes for the last time.

"Goodbye," she said. He nodded, and opened the door of the cage.

"Make sure it closes behind us," he said.

"I will."

Peggy watched in horror as the rock became liquid again and sucked in Phil and Simmons. But, as per his request, she leapt forward while it was still solid and latched the door of the cage firmly shut. Then the room was being overrun by her co-workers, and she stood beside the glass case, waiting to be acknowledged.

She hoped Phil would find his way home.

* * *

"You've given up on the flying car?" Peggy asked Howard. He shrugged.

"It was more of a cover and a stunt than a real dream," he said. "The future is in weapons, so that's what I'm working on."

"Howard… would it be possible to create a… a copy of someone, like a clone?"

He eyed her. "Is this academic?"

"Remember the raid last week?"

"Yeah."

"I only gained admittance because I met my soulmate."

Howard straightened up with a beaming smile.

"Congratulations, Peggy!" he said. "Bring the guy round sometime so I can meet him. Make sure he's good enough for you."

She rolled her eyes. "The problem is that… he went home."

"Then he's an idiot not to take you with him."

"He _couldn't_," she said. "He was from the future. He came through the rock, and went back the same way."

His smile fell. "Ah."

"Yes. He flippantly mentioned a Life Model Decoy. I can only presume that it acts as a convincing clone. He said that I stayed behind. But if I left a double in my place, perhaps I could find him? My soulmark is still there, Howard."

He hummed. "A double, huh?"

"Do you know if anyone is designing them?"

"Not that I've heard." He put down his tools. "Well, someone's going to start now, and that someone is me."

"No, Howard, I'm sure you have better things to be doing—"

"If it makes you feel better, I'll develop it on the side. Like I just told you, I've given up on making cars fly. Any idea what I should do with the plans?"

Peggy smiled, hope giving her a spark of mischief. "Leave them with the SSR in a file only to be opened by Phil Coulson."

"That's the name of your soulmate?" he asked.

"…Yes."

"I'll keep it a secret, I promise. Anyway, Life Model Decoy. Sounds like a good name for a rainy day project."

Peggy hugged him on impulse. "Thank you, Howard."

* * *

_Six years later_

"What if he's moved on?" Peggy asked, staring at the doppelganger wearing her clothes. She'd given Howard any biological samples he had asked for, and he created another LMD, one who was Blank, for Peggy's clone to marry one day. Her LMD was Blank as well, because no one but Fate could create a soul.

"From you, his soulmate?" Howard said. "If you've got your mark, he's probably still got his. Trust me, he'll be waiting."

"I hope you're right." She had a bag with only the essentials. No doubt fashions had changed, which meant that most of her wardrobe was out of the question. But she was taking anything which held sentimental value.

"I'm a Stark. I'm always right."

"Don't pass that hubris of yours onto any of your offspring," Peggy said.

"Please. Can you see me as a father?"

"I'll try not to."

"But…" His hands hovered over the controls for her LMD. "If I have any kids? If you see them, make sure they're doing okay, will you?"

"Of course." Peggy gave him a one-armed hug, and stood nearby. "Fire her up."

He activated the Life Model Decoy, and Peggy interrogated it until she was satisfied that the clone could pass for her.

"She won't last forever," Howard said. "Her mind will eventually deteriorate if I'm not there to perform regular maintenance, and the same with the other one. That includes any spark or conscience."

"I have faith in you."

"You're taking a huge risk," he warned her.

"Fate gave me a soulmate," she said, and she touched the door to the glass case. It was in Howard's lab between bases, the official excuse being that he was improving the locking mechanism. "So I'm going to find him. I refuse to believe that the sole purpose of our soulmateship was to infiltrate a HYDRA base and retrieve this."

"If I'm still alive then, look me up, not just my kids," Howard said.

"You can count on that," Peggy said. She kissed him on the cheek, and then opened the door of the case. Howard stood on the other side, and Peggy closed her eyes as the black rocky waves pulled her in.

Barely any time passed before she was being thrown head-first into light, bumping against something hard on the way past, and would have hit the ground if someone hadn't caught her around the waist. She tried to steady herself, grateful for the helping hand.

"And who're you?" a deep voice asked. Peggy looked up, startled, and took in the tall, dark-skinned man glaring down at her with clear suspicion.

"Peggy?"

She turned around. "Phil!"

"You followed us?"

It was _wonderful_ to see him again after so long. And he looked no different from when she had last seen him.

"It took awhile, but yes," she said. "I had some help."

"Help?" Phil looked around, and Peggy noticed the agent – Simmons, if she recalled correctly – being embraced by a young man.

"Howard Stark."

Phil cupped her cheeks, and Peggy hoped he ignored the tears she felt forming.

"You look different," he said softly.

"I should hope so. It's been six years, Phil." She laughed warmly. "You haven't changed a bit, though."

"No," he said. "I wouldn't have. Peggy, it's… it's only been… less than a _minute_ since I saw you."

"…That's impossible," she said.

"Oh my God, it's such an honour to meet you, Miss Carter," Simmons said, shaking Peggy's hand enthusiastically from the side.

"Not at all," Peggy said, barely noticing anything else now that she was so close to her soulmate again. Honestly, six years had felt like six decades. "I hope you're not disappointed, Phil."

"Disappointed?"

"I've aged six years—"

"And you're still physically younger than me. I'm not getting the short end of the stick here." He kissed her on the cheek, far more sedate than the last time they'd kissed. "I haven't even gotten a chance to miss you yet, and it's been six years for you. Come on." He linked their arms together. "The three of us should probably get to medical. Then maybe later I can show you to a guest room?"

"That would be lovely," Peggy said.

* * *

**I don't know what made me come up with this pairing, but then I say that about so many of the crack ships I write. Part of the way through this I remembered the Dub Smash War, and giggled at the thought of Coulson and Peggy being soulmates while all that nonsense is going on. Team Carter-Coulson. With Howard thrown in for good measure, and brief Jarvis appearance. Still haven't watched 'Agent Carter', but I saw a preview, and Howard was in 'Cap 1'.**

…**Yeah.**

**Please review! I hope you enjoyed it. I know, I'm utterly crazy, but then we all already knew that.**


	124. Games (Daisy x Rhodey)

**Note: I've watched the first episode of 'Agent Carter' and the first two episodes of season three of 'Agents of SHIELD', so that's progress, at least. Please don't tell me any spoilers. For the purposes of people getting along, 'Age of Ultron' didn't happen, but Skye has decided to go with her birth name, so she's going to be referred to as Daisy.**

"Games"

Daisy couldn't believe she was _finally_ here. When she was a kid, she never expected to be hanging out with Tony Stark. She knew she'd have some kind of contact with him, at least according to her soulmark, but to actually be in Stark Tower, in the presence of the Avengers, was mind-blowing.

"This is Sk… uh, Daisy Johnson," Coulson said, introducing her to Stark. "Our computer specialist. We first met her after she hacked SHIELD."

"Really?" Stark drawled, sizing her up. "You hacked SHIELD?"

"I got caught," Daisy admitted. "And it… kind of wasn't the first time. What can I say?" She shrugged, looking him up and down in return. "I like a challenge."

"Is _that_ a challenge?" he said.

"Now I'm wishing I'd never introduced you," Coulson muttered. "I should've known this would happen. I'm going over here before I develop a migraine. Please don't take over the world or bring it crashing down while I'm not here to supervise you."

"Got it, DC," Daisy said, saluting. He walked off, already wincing, which seemed unfair. Then Stark smiled at her slyly, and she understood why the director would worry about what they might get up to.

"So, who else have you hacked before?" Stark asked. "Here, let me get you a drink. You're old enough to drink, right?"

She rolled her eyes as she followed him to the bar. "Yes, I'm old enough to drink."

"Good, because any sensible bartender would ask the same question," he said. "I really don't want to face a fine – or Coulson's wrath – for supplying a minor with alcohol. Although I guess it's okay in the home." He paused, cocking his head, and then retreated behind the bar. Daisy perched on a barstool. "What's your poison?"

"Bit early in the day for me," she said. "Got any orange juice?"

He snorted. "Yeah, got some for mixers. Sure you don't want anything stronger?"

"I need to keep my wits about me, and my powers under control."

"Fair enough," he said, though he made a face. "Hope you don't mind if I drink."

"Not at all." She watched as he poured her a juice, and then a scotch for himself. He sat beside her, and they silently watched their respective team-mates interact for a few minutes.

Eventually, Daisy broached the subject which had been on her mind since Coulson told them that the Avengers knew he was alive, and that he was taking some of his team to meet them. As backup, he'd said, which Daisy could understand after the yelling started. It was all she could do not to bring the building down by accident, and Hunter actually had to be restrained when he leaped to Coulson's defence.

"Say, I was wondering," she said.

"What's that?" Stark said.

"Whether… I _could_ challenge you?"

He snickered. "You looking to lose, Agent Johnson?"

"You can call me Daisy," she said. "And who's to say I'd lose? I think I have a pretty good chance of winning."

"Against _me_?"

Okay, so she'd known he was arrogant, but it was another thing entirely to see it up close and personal. She glared at him.

"Let me make this clear, Mr. Stark," she said. "I don't actually care whether or not I beat you in a hack-off, if I can call it that." His eyebrows rose, and he inclined his head.

"So what's in it for you?" he said. "Experience? A chance to pick up techniques?"

"Nope," she said.

"Then what?" His eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't let you try hacking SI. We'd start with something like… I don't know, whatever's left of Hammer Tech. Something that doesn't matter."

Daisy glanced around. She chugged down the rest of her orange juice, and put Stark's drink on the bar beside hers. Then she dragged him to a corner, her back to the room, and raised the front of her shirt to bare her stomach. In writing as familiar as her own was scrawled '_Did you really out-hack Tony Stark?_', and she sighed when he began to chuckle, and then laugh fully. She let her shirt drop back into place, and crossed her arms while she waited it out. Instead, he just laughed harder, and had to rest against the wall, nearly bent double.

"Wow, you're a lightweight," she remarked acerbically.

"Just…" He waved his hand, catching his breath, and then straightened up. His lips twitched at the edges, but he seemed more composed. "Let's get to it."

"Wait, what? Now?" That was fast.

"I can't think of a better reason," he said. "I'm not gonna make it easy—"

"I'd be offended if you did," Daisy said, but she wasn't annoyed. Instead, she was nearly vibrating with excitement. "Just as long as my soulmate thinks I beat you, so he can say those words."

"Damn," Stark said, pouting. "Just think how hot it would've been if your soulmate was a woman." She nearly punched him on the arm for that.

"Who knows?" she said. "I'm into guys, and the writing looks more like a man's, but maybe I'm only supposed to have a platonic soulmate? And soulmate relationships don't always work out…" She trailed off, thinking about her parents. It _had_ been a loving relationship, she guessed, and it only went sour thanks to Whitehall. And most of the people she saw in relationships nowadays involved secret agents. May and Andrew, Coulson and Audrey, Hunter and Bobbi… yeah, not the best examples.

"No," Stark said slowly. "They don't. But they _can_. And if I help you find your soulmate that's at least one good thing I can do to make up for my shitty past. So c'mon, Daisy Johnson, or whatever Agent was gonna call you before. Let's get a couple of tablets and… you called it a hack-off? Yeah."

Spontaneously, Daisy hugged him. She stepped back quickly, but couldn't stop bouncing in place.

"You are seriously awesome," she said. "Thank you so much for this, Mr. Stark."

He coughed, shrugging.

"Call me Tony," he said.

"Don't think I'm not still pissed at all of you for shouting at DC, though," Daisy said as they returned to their drinks. "He hasn't exactly had it easy since coming back to life. And I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him."

"Then I guess we'll have to be grateful for that," he said.

"You'll… still let go up against you?" she said.

"What, d'you think I'm gonna stand in the way of Fate? Hell no. Soon as I've finished this…" He held up his glass and drained it. "JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir?" the AI said.

"Set up a challenge for us, would you? Let's say… White House security. Whoever hacks the president's personal emails first."

"Wouldn't that get us arrested?" Daisy said, suddenly questioning the wisdom of challenging Tony Stark to a hacking competition.

"Only if we get caught," he said. "JARVIS will hide our tracks, won't you, J?"

"I am certain Director Coulson would not approve if Agent Johnson were arrested for hacking President Ellis," JARVIS said.

"Then it's settled." Stark… Tony, she guessed, put their glasses in the sink and left them there. "Are _all_ the Avengers in the building?"

"Yes, sir."

"Can I use my laptop?" Daisy asked.

"Sure thing," Tony said. "Go get it. I'll make an announcement."

The 'announcement' was grandiose even by Tony Stark's standards, and Daisy hoped she wouldn't embarrass herself too much by not living up to expectations. Just as long as someone she didn't know thought that she won, well, the rest didn't matter.

Sure, the challenge itself was more than she could've dreamed of, but that it might lead to finding her soulmate was more important than anything else. If only she could tell her dad about it… but she couldn't.

With a sigh, she set up her computer and found the connection without JARVIS's help. She and Tony swiftly established rules of the contest, and Daisy smiled when her friends and team-mates cheered her on. Then the timer began, and everything else faded out as she put all her hacking skills to the test against the supreme hacker of any generation to date. She wasn't just doing this for herself, but to find the other half of her soul. With that seated at the back of her mind, her fingers moved faster, were more sure, and she allowed herself no time to second guess her instincts as she hacked through the White House's tight security until she was staring at President Ellis's junk mail, including the obligatory Viagra emails.

"I did it," she said, and she glanced up at the others. "I actually did it."

"Damn, and two seconds ahead of me," Tony said. He grimaced. "I need to spend less time engineering and more time brushing up on my skills." He reached his hand out and Daisy shook it, stunned. "Fairly won, Daisy. Congratulations. I'll be able to rest easy knowing Agent's got someone with of your talent working for him."

"Thanks," she said weakly. "You didn't… _let_ me win, did you?"

"Where would the fun be in that?" He brightened as he looked over her shoulder, and Daisy quickly left the president's account before the hack could be traced to her device. "Hey, Rhodey! I just got out-hacked! Only by two seconds, and I'd recruit her if I could, but I don't think SHIELD's gonna let her go without a fight."

Daisy gulped, shutting her laptop quickly. Colonel Rhodes worked for the president, after all; she hoped Tony wouldn't tell him _exactly_ what they'd been hacking.

"Did she really?" Rhodes said, approaching them. Daisy realised just then – and kicked herself for not noticing sooner – that he was only wearing an undershirt and gym pants. And his arms were glistening. It was like a living wet dream.

"Daisy," Tony said, "this is my best friend, James Rhodes. Rhodey, this is Daisy."

"Please, God, don't let them really be on first name terms," she heard Coulson say.

"Did you really out-hack Tony Stark?" Rhodes asked, looking amused.

…Well, shit, this explained Tony's grin.

"You bet your sweet ass I did, soulmate," she said.

"Ha!" Tony crowed, and he jumped to his feet. "This calls for a party."

"Soulmate?" Simmons exclaimed.

"Sweet mother of God," Coulson said.

"Wow," the colonel said, staring at Daisy.

"I am the greatest," Tony sank, making his way back to the bar. Daisy put her laptop aside and stood up.

"Hi," she said, holding out her hand. "Sorry. Uh, like Tony said, I'm Daisy. I mean, I went by Skye… the name Skye for years. But my birth name is Daisy Johnson, so that's what I use nowadays. Um… you can call me Daisy. If you want to."

"Call me Rhodey," he said, shaking her hand. He didn't let go right away. "Everyone else does. You look so young… it makes me feel like a lech. And so damn lucky I should feel ashamed."

"How do you feel about people with powers?" she asked. She noticed that he still hadn't let go of her hand, but it felt so right that she wasn't going to complain.

"What do you do?" he said.

"I make things… vibrate," she said. He grinned, all pearly white teeth and eyes crinkling at the corners.

"I can imagine some of the uses that could be put to," he said.

"None of that!" Coulson called. "Not until you make your intentions clear."

"Oh my God, DC," Daisy moaned, hiding her face with her free hand.

"Is Coulson your dad?" Rhodey asked, his eyes widening.

"_No_," she said. "And the less said about my biological parents, the better. Trust me."

"…Right." Daisy tried to pull her hand back, worried that she'd scared him off with a few ominous words. But he wouldn't release his hold, and stepped closer. "I think we should continue this somewhere we won't be surrounded by spectators."

"Yeah," she said. "Um… I'll see you guys later."

"Take your time!" Simmons said cheerfully.

"Not _too_ much time," Tony said. "Or we'll be starting the party without you."

Daisy nodded, and smiled up at Rhodey as he led her to the elevator.

"I wouldn't risk starting a party for the two of us while Coulson is armed," Rhodey assured her, squeezing her hand.

"You wouldn't hear me complaining," she said. "Can I see your mark?" He lifted his undershirt, and Daisy traced the letters. "This should totally have said 'sweet abs', because that would _also_ be true."

* * *

**Yes. Yes, it would. Hang on, do we ever see Rhodey shirtless? If we don't, that's a crime. Just sayin'.**

**Please review! Sorry I haven't been updating as often as I should, but I've been a bit listless lately. And school on Friday drove me to drink. Literally. I bought a bottle of vodka on the way home and drank half of it. (Fear not; it was a 50mL bottle.) I've started work on the next chapter of the head canon continuations, but damn it, I keep going over the previous chapter in my head and what would happen after that. The head canon for that one is getting severely out of control.**

**Edit: pairing requested by kogouma and a guest.**


	125. Super Soldier Serum (BuckyxHunterxSteve)

**Note: Haven't caught up with the latest episodes (5 and 6) of 'AoS' so far, so please no spoilers. This is (presumably) canon-divergent in that HYDRA captures Hunter in revenge at some point, and doses him up with the same serum given to Bucky.**

"Super Soldier Serum"

"Quick! While he's dazed!"

Hunter stumbled upon leaving the chamber, and lurched into waiting arms. He felt clumsy and awkward, his limbs slow, and it was easy for his captors to strap him to a table. The hard cuffs seemed a bit unnecessary, and much too tight, but they kept him from sliding off. Almost a pity.

"Well, he actually made it through," Ward said, moving into his line of sight. Hunter gritted his teeth and tried to pull at his restraints. He still felt drained from whatever they'd done to him, and Ward's laughter didn't help. "Even Steve Rogers was weak as a lamb after he got the super soldier serum. He came out looking a lot bigger, though. Which makes me wonder whether this even worked, or if, like Bucky Barnes, you'll be stronger without changing. You don't look any different. Kind of expected you to go all Red Skull."

"Like hell," Hunter spat, and he renewed his struggles.

"A merc who's never found his soulmate, who killed so many man to avenge the ex-wife he pines over like some pathetic loser—"

"Who wants to protect his friends from deluded bastards like you! But you wouldn't know what it's like to have friends, would you, Ward? Anyone who pretended to be your friend is dead, and anyone who actually thought you were their friend is either dead or _hates_ you!"

Ward's jaw tightened.

"Let's see whether your super-healing has kicked in yet," he said. "Or whether you're the next Bruce Banner."

"No thanks," Hunter said. "Green isn't my favourite colour."

"What is?" Ward asked conversationally, picking up a nasty-looking implement which wouldn't look out of place at the dentist. The tool fell from his hands as an explosion rocked the building. Hunter smirked; it wasn't as quiet as SHIELD would usually be, but marybe they were making a statement? Or worse, thought he was dead and intended to bomb the place to kingdom come. Not so good.

Of course, it turned out _not_ to be SHIELD. Captain America burst into the room, shield on one arm and gun in his other hand, mowing down the HYDRA agents trying to flee.

"Stop there or I shoot him," Ward said, pressing a gun to Hunter's temple.

"Is that Lance Hunter?" the captain asked.

"Seems the Avengers are here to break me out," Hunter said, mentally preening. "Have you ever known them to lose?"

"Lose people sometimes," Ward said. "This time it'll stick, though. No more TAHITI to bring you back."

"True, Coulson and Skye used the last of it," Hunter muttered. "I mean Daisy." The captain gave him a strange look.

"Let him go," Rogers told Ward.

"What's it to you?" Ward said. "I thought Coulson was avoiding the Avengers, which means you're here for something else."

"Heard HYDRA was trying to replicate the super soldier serum. Figured they should be stopped."

"Worked out just fine for your buddy the Winter Soldier," Ward said. That was a low blow, and if Hunter wasn't tied down he would've hopped up and decked Ward for that alone.

"Leave Bucy out of this," the captain growled. Hunter tried yanking at his bindings again, letting out a soft 'Ha!' when he felt the hand ones start to give. He gathered his arm muscles, ready to pull hard.

The next sixty seconds were quite busy; and it was one hell of a minute.

First, Hunter tore his hand restraints away, and Ward's eyes widened like a cartoon character's. Hunter paused to grin. Captain America's shield whipped past, knocking Ward's gun away (and breaking his wrist, if the crack was anything to go by). While the captain and Ward duked it out, Hunter sat up carefully. He was relieved not to feel dizzy. Then he yanked off the steel bands around his legs and ankles. It was too easy. When he looked around, he saw that Ward was on the floor. Huh. His chest was still moving, and his breaths were uneven and rattling, but he didn't look good.

"Everyone will be glad to see you're still alive."

He looked up with a jerk, and saw the captain holding out a hand.

"Red, white, and blue," Hunter blurted out. He'd later claim he was addled by the chemicals and procedure.

"W-what?" the captain said, wide-eyed.

"My new favourite colours," Hunter said. He tried to slip off the table, only to miscalculate the distance slightly and stumble into the captain's arms. Couldn't complain about the result.

"Whoa, there. Take it easy." There was an arm around his waist, and Hunter was happy to lean against it. He met the captain's – his soulmate? – gaze. For a few, charged seconds they stared. Then their mouths came together, and Hunter found another reason entirely to hold onto the captain's shoulders.

"Steve! What're you doing?"

They pulled apart, although Hunter kept one hand on the captain's upper arm. The Winter Soldier was standing in the doorway, scowling at them.

"Bucky," Steve said. "I—"

"What the hell is going on here?" the soldier said, this time focusing on Hunter.

Well, he had an answer for this one.

"What do you think, love?" he asked, leaning against the captain. The soldier's jaw dropped, and he stepped into the room, closer to them.

"Oh," he said. "That's okay, then."

Hunter snorted, and then rubbed his aching temples. He summoned his strength as… he guess he should call the captain Steve… led him to their third. It really _was_ them. Who'd have thought it?

"I can't believe this is happening," he grumbled half-heartedly. "First time we meet and you're saving my arse. Should've known from your words." He tipped his head towards Steve, and half-smiled at the soldier. "What do I call you, sunshine?"

The soldier's cheeks pinked. "Bucky."

"Wanna give us a kiss, Bucky?"

"Yeah." He seemed shy as he pressed his lips against Hunter's, and he was more than happy to have a new person to lean against when his legs trembled.

The first time he kissed Bobbi was the day they met, even though they knew they weren't soulmates. Bobbi said her soulmate was platonic, and Hunter was sure he was part of some cosmic joke, so he didn't care about marrying her so quickly. Now that he'd found his soulmates, he _really_ didn't care about kissing them within minutes of speaking each other's words. It felt right like it never had with Bobbi, and only Steve pointedly clearing his throat drew him back from Bucky. The former assassin whined, but then there was another explosion somewhere – maybe the Hulk smashing something? – and all three of them sighed.

"Better get going," Steve said. He raised his wrist to his mouth. "Extracting Agent Hunter now. Captain out." Then he was nudging them both along the corridor, a trail of unconscious bodies their guide out. "And maybe you'll tell us whether this 'Coulson' is _Phil_ Coulson. The guy supposed to be dead."

"You mean he didn't call you in?" Hunter said, glancing over his shoulder at his blond soulmate.

"No. Some woman named Barbara Morse. Friends with Barton and Romanov."

"Bobbi?"

"Know her well?" Bucky said.

"My ex-wife." When both men looked set to ask him questions, he jumped to explain himself. "I saw documents in your writing in a museum when I first came to America. Exact matches for the writing I'd been born with. Took pictures of them, and my marks, and sent them for analysis. Ninety-something percent match, although the analyst said that, personally, she thought they were a hundred percent matched. What was I supposed to think? _You two_ were MIA, presumed dead! Bobbi and I had already split up before you turned out to be alive."

"What about her—"

"Here's the exit," Bucky said, and he steered them out. Hunter blinked against the harsh light to his newly-sensitive eyes. Super soldier serum. And it _worked_ on him. What HYDRA was trying to accomplish… he'd probably never know. It was obviously an experiment, but why him? Maybe they thought he _would_ become the next Red Skull. Good thing he'd been thinking positive thoughts while he was injected with the serum.

"Tell us more later," Steve said. They both kept hold of Hunter – he wasn't exactly going anywhere – and led him around the corner of the building to a Quinjet.

"Does SHIELD know you've got me?" he asked.

"They do now," a red-haired woman said. The Black Widow. "How's it going?"

"Mixed feelings," Hunter said. "Been dosed with something, but I found my soulmates, so I can't complain too much."

She studied them, the flicker of a smile as she looked at the two men flanking him.

"Congratulations," she said. "I'm sure the director will be happy for you."

"How did you know about Coulson?" Steve asked. Her almost-smile disappeared.

"Coulson?" she said sharply, before turning a much harsher look on Hunter.

He sank onto a seat and hoped they'd be quick about it.

"Uh… I think he can explain better than I can. I missed most of the mental breakdown while it was happening."

"Breakdown?" Bucky said.

"Jesus Christ," Steve swore.

"_His_ resurrection was shorter than Coulson's, to be fair," Hunter said.

"I'm calling Stark," Romanov said.

"Coulson's gonna kill me," he muttered.

"Not if we can help it," Bucky said, and he strapped himself in beside Hunter, Steve on his other side. "Let the others know we're ready to go."

"I think they're about to blow the shit out of the place," Romanov said. Hunter didn't pay much attention while she reported to the other Avengers. He was trying to get his head around everything which had happened in the past… however many hours it'd been. Half a day? A day? Maybe two? He shook his head.

"This is insane," he said. "I guess I had it coming to me, after screwing up trying to get revenge for Bobbi. Screwed up a lot of things."

"You wouldn't be working for a guy like Phil Coulson if you'd never made the right call before," Steve said. Couldn't deny that, sure, but…

"You're my soulmates," he said, raising his head. The full impact was only hitting him now.

"What'd you do in a past life to get landed with us?" Bucky said. It was probably meant to sound joking, but there was a strain to his voice. Hunter reached out and touched his knee, just as the others began to board.

"Something very good, obviously," he said softly. He felt Steve's arm settle around his shoulders, and Bucky's metal hand covered Hunter's still resting on his knee.

* * *

**Sorry! I know it's taken ages for me to get around to posting again! I honestly had the best intentions of writing something earlier, but I've been in such a state of meh lately, and then worrying about work. Still. Just a bit over a month to go, and then the holidays. Canberra! And yes, this is a short chapter, but since it's one ship this time around it shouldn't have to be too long. (Ignoring chapters like 'Requires Experimentation' and 'What I Am'.)**

**Please review, even though I don't deserve it! Feel free to chastise me. Several hundred words of this were gradually scribbled down in a little notebook I carry around with me, so I was transferring it bit by bit.**


	126. Could Be Worse (Darcy x Tony)

"Could Be Worse"

Darcy was picking up coffee (for herself) and snacks (for her baby scientists) when Doom decided it'd be a fun time to attack. Still in the same city as the Fantastic Four, but closer to Stark Tower than the Baxter. Much closer. Pulling pigtails, indeed.

With a sigh, mourning the loss of the coffee – now all over the floor – and the pastries – also on the floor – Darcy sank behind an upturned table to make sure her taser was loaded. She had an actual setting on it for rogue robots. Such was her life that she needed a setting other than 'stun' or 'kill'. Not that she'd asked for any fancy upgrades to her things; it was just a cool side effect of living in the same place as Tony Stark, and being an honorary Avenger.

Actually, she hadn't met him at all, not said even a word to him. She knew that it was Bad to interrupt Science!, so she did her silent intern thing where she bought stuff, distributed it at the regular feeding time she'd established, and trusted JARVIS to let her know when things were about to go tits-up. (She loved that expression ever since she heard it in London, and used it whenever she could, sometimes with her own variation 'boobs-up'.)

"Everyone, just get down behind stuff and stay where you are!" she hollered over the screams of the customers. While they either obeyed or didn't – those who ignored her advice were better out of the gene pool, anyway – she pulled out her cell phone. No way JARVIS wouldn't have detected Doom's attack by now, and alerted the Avengers, but she wanted to make sure. "Yo, J!"

"Assistance is on its way, Miss Lewis."

"You're the best, bro. Darcy out."

She hung up, resting her head back against the table for a few moments to compose herself, and then turned around. Sure enough, attracted by all the shouting, there were three robots headed their way. The few clear-headed people in the room who were armed pulled out their weapons and fired, but the bullets just dinged off the metal of Doom's latest efforts. Darcy smugly extended her hand over the top of the table and fired her taser at the leading robot. With a great burst of static, it blew up, and Darcy went to reload.

"If anyone else has got tasers, use them!" she said. This time people seemed more willing to listen, and a couple of women began digging through their handbags. "And keep down, okay? The Avengers are on their way, and we're close to Stark Tower. It shouldn't be long before—"

A cloaked figure landed, riding on the back of a couple more robots, with a metal mask concealing his face. No guesses.

"Hey," Darcy said. "Victor von Doom, right?"

"You should be less regular in your habits, Darcy Lewis," he replied.

…Oh shit. Yeah, Natasha may've mentioned that once. But this'd been Darcy's routine for _months_! Why strike now, when her guard was down…? Oh yeah. Good point. She winced, shrugged, and fired at one of the robots holding Doom up. He fell to the ground with a clatter, and Darcy snickered, reloading. She'd have to ask Iron Man (through JARVIS) to make her taser fire more rounds without having to reload, since that seemed way more important than any other functions.

"Here!" a woman called. Darcy looked up, slightly distracted by Doom struggling to his feet, and a stranger slid her taser across the room to Darcy. True, she had a better view than most people, and clearly needed more help since this seemed personal.

"Thanks!" she said. She aimed and struck the other Doombot beside its creator, throwing him off his feet again, then slid the taser back across to its owner.

Then help arrived!

"Friggin' finally," she muttered as Iron Man blew up the two remaining robots, then landed beside Doom. He raised his gauntlets.

"Give me a reason not to blast the hell out of you," he said. Doom sneered.

"Such fuss over a coffee girl?" he asked. "Her soulmate must be _very_ important if she's living with the Avengers."

"Haven't met my soulmate yet, asshole," Darcy piped up. Doom and Stark looked at her, and then turned back to each other.

"She's the official scientist handler, actually," Stark said, and Darcy felt something glowing in her chest. Pride? "She keeps the brains of the operation alive. I don't know what we'd do without her, and I have no idea how either Bruce or I survived this long without her care." Okay, so maybe he _shouldn't_ have been revealing all of this where anyone could hear it, because Darcy was pretty sure the risk to her life just tripled at _least_. But whatever. It sounded like he respected her, which was totally worth the danger. "In other words, Doom, by going after her you're making a _big_ mistake. I don't think Asgard would take it well if Thor's friend was threatened. Could be bye-bye, Latveria. So why don't you surrender like a good little despot, and maybe Thor won't fry your brains when he gets here in t-minus five seconds."

There was a huge crack of thunder, making Darcy wonder how the hell Stark timed things so well. Probably over the comms, but the magic of Stark was equally likely.

Thor arrived, and very nearly strangled Doom before flying him away. Stark waved as they took off, and then walked towards Darcy's table.

"He came here for _you_?" a customer said. Darcy grimaced, and glanced over her shoulder at the café's owner.

"I'm so sorry about this," she said. "I'll pay for the damages, I promise. Or hack Doom's bank account and make him pay for it."

"I can do that," Stark told the owner. His face-plate retracted, and Darcy relaxed.

"It's things like that which make me question my life choices," she said. Stark froze mid-step, and looked her over.

"Huh," he said. "Okay, well, I expected much worse."

"…Ex_cuse_ me?"

"In my defence, I thought I'd be speaking first." Darcy looked at him blankly, reeling at the revelation that _Tony Freakin' Stark was her soulmate_! "Think about it. Your first words to me were you questioning your life choices? Not exactly getting positive vibes."

She snorted, gathering her feet under her and slipping her taser back into her purse.

"And your first words to me were saying that you 'expected much worse'," she said, "so I'm pretty sure we're even."

His right gauntlet flew off as he strode forward. "I can't believe we haven't met until now. You really haven't said anything when you've left food on the desk in my workshop?"

"I thought it'd be rude to interrupt," she said, accepting his helping hand. "Hi. I'm Darcy Lewis."

"Tony Stark," he said, keeping hold of her hand. "Let's get you back to the tower. Bruce will want to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine—"

"And I want to get you in private as soon as possible after that." He leered, and Darcy rolled her eyes. She stepped around the table, swapping hands with him so they could walk side by side.

"I think we'll need to skip coffee today," she said.

"That's alright," he said. "We're going to spend the rest of the day going over how to upgrade your security. I'm assigning you a bodyguard for when I'm not around. Maybe I'll clone Happy? No! I'll make you a suit. Body armour."

"I can be Iron Woman?"

"If so, I'll need your measurements. _All_ of your measurements." Tony took his hand back and cocked his fingers, summoning the gauntlet. Then he tugged Darcy against the suit. "How would you like to fly home?"

She hooked her hands behind the neck of the Iron Man suit. "I'd love to."

"…Shit. I just realised that I'm going to get the shovel talk from Thor about not hurting his Sister in Lightning."

"You think you've got it bad? I'm gonna have Pepper Potts threatening me!"

"Elopement is sounding better and better."

"Why, Mr. Stark, are you proposing to me?"

Instead of answering, he took off into the air, and Darcy yelped, tightening her hold on him. He surprised her with a kiss, the best distraction in the world, and Darcy sighed through her nose. She had no idea how high they were, and didn't want to know. She spent the rest of the ride looking into her soulmate's eyes, occasionally pecking him on the lips, and kept it cleaner than she wanted to. Better to be safe than sorry when she was who knew how high up.

"We're here," Tony said, and they settled on a balcony. Darcy looked around, and felt the tension bleeding out of her. She wrapped her arms around him and settled against the metal body, wishing the suit wasn't between them but relieved to be home.

"Thank you for rescuing me," she said. "I don't know how long I could've handled the situation, especially when it became clear I was the target."

"I thought my soulmate was going to be disappointed in me," he confessed. "You're better than I deserve, but damned if I'm losing you."

"Got it right there, buddy."

He led her inside and straight to the elevator. While she stayed on the medical level, with a promise to see Bruce, Tony continued down to the workshop to get out of the suit. Darcy hopped up onto the examination table, opening her mouth to protest the mother hen routine, but a look from the doctor shut her up.

"Talk me through what happened," he said.

"A bunch of robots, a dictator, and a superhero land outside a café," she began. "Stop me if you're heard this one before."

"Something about a scientist wrangler being targeted by a supervillain. I believe that's how the story goes? What happened to the wrangler? Is there any cut glass involved? Splinters? Stubbed toes or bumped elbows? Concussion?"

"Soulmate," Darcy said. That made him pause.

"You met your soulmate," he said.

"It's Tony. We were never introduced, and he saved my life."

"Who spoke first?"

"…You know his words, don't you?" she said. He nodded jerkily. "I did. I was referring to Doom targeting me. My words have always been just as much of a blow to the self-esteem."

"I hoped there'd be another meaning to them," he said. "For Tony's sake."

Darcy's swung her legs back and forth while Bruce set up the blood pressure monitor.

"I thought the person I had to fear the most was Pepper Potts, but I'm kinda scared about the Hulk's idea of a shovel talk."

"The Other Guy would give _both_ of you the talk, about each other."

"Aw. You're melting my heart here, doc."

"You're our handler, Darcy. Of course we care about you. We _all_ do, not just Jane, Thor, and Selvig. We should say it more often, I know, but at least half of us are emotionally constipated, and half the remainder are putting on an act."

Darcy quietly considered this while Bruce continued his examination, giving short answers to his questions. She perked up when Tony joined them, perching on the opposite bed and watching Bruce like a hawk.

"I think we'll have to have our first date in tonight," he finally said. "I don't want to take you out before we've established a proper security detail for you."

"Seriously, I'll be fine," she said.

"You haven't been on social media since you got down here, have you, Darcy?"

"Nope."

"Because our interaction is already making the rounds."

"…Oh."

"Now that it's out there, we don't have to worry about how to break it to the world," he said. "That we're soulmates. And I definitely want to get to know you. But you have to decide whether you want a relationship with me. People will already be speculating, so if you want out… tell me now, so we can squash any rumours before people accept them as fact. You'll be in danger anyway, but if people believe we're not together then it'll avert at least some of the bitchiness headed your way."

"Hey, I've had plenty of bitchiness from kids at school about developing early," Darcy said. "Do… you not want me?"

Tony stood up and took her hands, looking her right in the eyes.

"I've always believed that my soulmate would take one look at me and decide that I'm not worth it," he told her. "So I've always been prepared for rejection, especially considering the age difference between us."

"I'm not gonna reject you, Tony," she said. "Ever. You're the other half of my soul, not to mention that you're super hot and a genius to boot. And a _superhero_. I expected a jerk for a soulmate—"

"And you got one."

"_No_. Your words were totally justified, now that I understand. I'm not abandoning you, not ever." She squeezed his hands. "You're stuck with me for as long as you can put up with all of this."

Tony's smile was the most genuine one she'd ever seen, so happy that it nearly bowled her over. She saw him swallow, and he took a few breaths.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"Y'know, Doom was right about one thing," she said, and his eyebrows scrunched together. "My soulmate is someone pretty damn important."

He rested his forehead against hers, still beaming. "So is mine."

* * *

**Another shorter chapter for a single ship, but I don't care, and I hope you don't mind, dear readers.**

**Now I'm going to make what I hope isn't a terribly unreasonable request: please don't submit any more pairing requests, not even as we get more new characters in 'Agents of SHIELD' and MCU in general. I've had heaps of suggestions, and come up with ideas of my own, so I really don't need more things to be keeping track of. Thank you for all previous suggestions, and I might resume asking for requests when I feel less overwhelmed. Also, please double-check that I haven't already written a pairing before requesting it.**

**Please review!**


	127. Thursday (Fitz x Thor)

**Note: This is set in season one, the episode just after the Dark Elves attacked Greenwich and Thor &amp; Co had to save the day. Hence Ward's unquestioned presence and Coulson being an agent, not the director of SHIELD.**

"Thursday"

"You're not at all concerned that Thor will see you here?" May said dryly. Coulson shrugged as he helped shift some of the debris in the middle of Greenwich, and Fitz was torn between the conversation and watching the DWARFs.

"He'll be too busy with Dr. Foster before he leaves," Coulson said.

"Even though they aren't soulmates?"

Fitz pretended to be concentrating on his work and not eavesdropping.

"Thinks might work differently with Asgardians. It never came up with any of the conversations I had with Thor or his Asgardian friends, and I never got the chance to speak with Loki until…" There was a long pause, and Fitz wished that he had a mirror. May would've glared it into breaking as soon as she noticed him trying to snoop, so it was probably just as well. They ran into enough trouble on their missions without adding another seven years of bad luck into the mix.

"So they _could_ be soulmates?" she said.

"I'm counting on her being enough of a distraction until we can get out of here."

"Sir?" It was Ward who walked into the room. "I don't think you can count on that anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because Thor's headed this way."

Coulson dropped something on his foot and immediately grabbed it, trying to keep steady against an unsteady column. Ward leapt to his side in case their boss needed sturdier support. Fitz cast an uneasy glance at the ceiling, hoping it would hold.

"Gee, I think I need medical," Coulson said. Considering he'd dropped heavy plaster on his foot, the pain on his face was probably genuine. "Someone get Simmons for me, please? Fitz, carry on your work. If Thor comes here first, just… get him out of here, would you?"

"Yes, sir," he said. Ward went to fetch Simmons while May saw Coulson safely out of the room. He was pretty sure she was rolling her eyes, as much as ever Melinda May rolled her eyes.

Loud footsteps approached within seconds, and he glanced up in time to see a familiar, fair-haired face through the cracks in the stone of the building. Coulson wasn't all that far away, so Fitz had to move fast. He leapt over Grumpy and various bits of debris, and skidded to a stop in front of what was left of the door.

"I'm sorry, Prince Thor, but this area is off-limits right now," Fitz said. "Which is really your fault… no disrespect intended. Your highness."

The God of Thunder – or whatever he was supposed to be – stared at Fitz. If it wasn't for his boss's look of worry in the back of Fitz's mind, he would've been close to caving, but he couldn't do that to Coulson. It would be going against orders. He straightened his back and looked the Avenger straight in the eye, waiting for an argument or a bolt of lightning or… well, anything other than a searching gaze.

"How fascinating," Thor said. "I never expected to meet you here."

Fitz sank to the floor in a daze.

"What?" he said.

"Fitz, Ward just told me…" Simmons trailed off, pausing behind him. Fitz glanced up at her, and noticed her reddening cheeks. "Oh. Hello."

"Good morning," Thor said, though he didn't take his eyes off Fitz.

"What brings you here?" she continued.

"My friend, the Lady Jane, is occupied with her soulmate," he said. "I did not wish to intrude upon her happiness, nor her hospitality; and if I can make amends for the destruction caused here I would be happy to. You are native to this city?"

"Jemma's English, I'm Scottish," Fitz said. "Uh, hello."

"Fitz, why are you sitting down?" Simmons said.

He realised that he _was_ on the ground, and swiftly stood up again. "Simmons, shouldn't you be seeing to… the boss?"

"Ah, yes," she said, nodding. "Very well. Sir, this area is off-limits."

"So I understand," Thor said. "Does that extend to your friend's soulmate?"

Simmons's jaw fell. "S-soulmate?"

"He said my words, Jemma," Fitz said quietly.

"What?" That was a high squeak, and he winced. Thor laughed.

"And your friend said mine," he added. "The soulmark I was born with gave me my name. Perhaps I was a little more destructive than necessary growing up, and no doubt the words 'Your highness' contributed to my arrogance. I hope I am worthier of being your soulmate now."

"Always," Fitz said. The dazed feeling wouldn't leave him.

"Wait a moment," Simmons said, and her eyes widened astronomically. "You called him Thor!"

"Prince Thor, yes."

"Giving him the name Thor when he was born."

"Yes."

"Fitz, _think _about it. Who is Thursday named after?"

"…Oh hell." He could've been knocked down by a feather.

"You're the reason for Thursday being called Thursday!"

Thor laughed, while Fitz buried his head in his hands.

"Simmons!" Ward called.

"Coming!" she replied. She patted Fitz on the shoulder. "I'm so happy for you. I hope we shall see you later, _Prince_ Thor."

"We shall," he said. She hurried after Ward, and Fitz rubbed his eyebrows before meeting his soulmate's gaze again.

"I'm working," Fitz said. "Erm… perhaps you could wait elsewhere? My bots… they're still working, and I have to supervise them. I'll find you when I can."

"I will not stray far from here," Thor said. "Your name is Fitz?"

"Last name. My first is Leo. Uh, short for Leopold. That's why people call me Fitz. I prefer it."

"Leopold is a name fit for a royal consort." Fitz stopped breathing for a few seconds as Thor looked him over, the implication of the words setting in. "I wish my mother were alive so that I could introduce you. I shall have to be content with introducing you to my father. I had planned to return to Midgard, if I can be of assistance. Your work is here, and your friends; I would not wish to part you for long."

"Thank you." Fitz was still reeling, but at least he'd remembered how to breathe.

"Once your work is concluded, please come and find me," Thor said. "I wish to get to know you better, my soulmate."

"Of course."

Thor smiled charmingly, and walked off, barely sparing a glance for anyone else working in the vicinity. Previously working, to be more accurate. Fitz startled when he felt his phone buzz, and hurried back to work, checking his messages.

**Skye** You go, Fitz! You get the McDreamy of superheroes.

**May** Now you've seen those arms up-close, is Hill right about them?

**Ward** Way to go, Fitz. Going to introduce us to your guy?

**Agent C** We need to talk about this. But I really am happy for you. And please tell Simmons I don't need an injection. She listens to you.

Fitz typed a quick message to Simmons, asking her to be gentle with their boss, made a mental note to get on with designing a tricorder the next time he had half an hour spare, and turned back to the DWARFs' readings. The sooner he got done, the sooner he'd get to see his soulmate again.

And then… _what_ then? The soulmate of an Avenger? Of a long-lived demigod/alien who didn't know that Coulson had been revived under mysterious circumstances? Of someone whose (non-euphemistic) hammer could only be wielded by the worthy, the crown prince of another galaxy?

Shit. This was too much pressure to handle.

Most of Fitz's SHIELD experience was at the academy, and despite the dangers they'd faced so far, he'd never really been in a life-or-death situation, certainly nothing which could give him genuine PTSD. But people could suffer panic attacks from anything, so he curled up behind a large pile of rubble with the DWARF kit, ashamedly grateful that Coulson really did need medical attention, taking Simmons's presence away. He breathed slowly, letting his brain oxygenate, and tried to concentrate on the readings the DWARFs fed him. Things went relatively back to normal once he worked his way past the walls he'd felt closing in on him, and forced himself to focus on work. He even began going over specs in his mind for a medical tricorder like the ones on _Star Trek_, and as time passed Simmons returned. He deflected her questions until she got the hint, and actually managed to forget about Thor until they were packing up, and he felt a delicate hand on his arm.

"Do you know where he is?" she asked.

It took a few seconds to work out what she meant, and he kicked himself for forgetting, even though he'd needed to so that he could work.

"Nearby," he said. "He promised he wouldn't go far."

"Agent Coulson has given you the rest of the day off," she said. "It's regulations."

"It's also regulations to notify SHIELD of my soulmate's identity."

"I'm sure SHIELD already knows." At his panicked look, Simmons shrugged. "We were discreet, those of us on the team, but there were others around. And don't you think it's likely that Thor told his friends? Skye had to get another agent to type her message. The more people who know, the less it stays secret. What you and Thor need to talk about is what happens next. Present Director Fury with a fait accompli."

She was right. It didn't make Fitz feel any less nervous.

"What if I screw this up?" he whispered.

"Anyone would be lucky to have you, Fitz," she said gently. "Everyone is born with their soulmark, and he's lived for centuries, as far as we know. A long time to wait and reflect, and know his own mind. You and I, we haven't been alive for three decades yet. But surely you know what you want with your soulmate?"

"A superhero?" Fitz glanced back over his shoulder, as though he could see Thor from there. "Everything. I don't know whether I can handle it, but I'd try. If he really wanted… me, I'd…"

He trailed off. Simmons mistook his silence, and hugged him.

"I'd miss you, but you'd be happy working with Tony Stark, I'm sure," she said.

"I'd miss you, too, Simmons. We're jumping the gun here, though. I haven't even spoken to him in…" He checked his watch. "Hours."

"Then go and get a move on." She pushed him away. "Go on. Keep in touch, and try not to get into _too_ much trouble."

"If you've jinxed me, Simmons, I swear…"

"Go, Fitz!"

* * *

Had Thor had Mjolnir to hand, he was sure he would have sensed his soulmate's approach sooner. However, something inside of his soul alerted him, calling for its mate. He took notice of his surroundings, and was prepared when he saw Leopold walking his way. Thor was quick to stand, although he allowed his soulmate to come to him. He was used to being taller than nearly everyone of his acquaintance, and did not wish to overwhelm the smaller, curly-haired man.

Perhaps it was as well that he intended to leave Asgard in his father's hands for a time, as there was no chance of an heir being soon produced. Since his time on Midgard, Thor had studied much – he needed something to fill the hours when he could not slumber – and discovered that Midgardians had surrogacy. Thor was fairly certain that his soulmate would not wish to undergo a procedure in Asgard to be able to carry children… a discussion best left until after they were wed.

And he certainly intended to marry his soulmate, if Leopold would have him.

"Hello again," he said, stopping in front of Thor. "I've got the rest of the day off, so where would you like to go? Still on Earth, I mean. Wouldn't want to lose track of time. My team needs me."

"I am sure they do," Thor said, holding out his elbow. Leopold flushed as he hooked his hand around Thor's arm, and not-so-discreetly squeezed. Thor smirked at him, and began to lead him away from Greenwich.

"My co-workers want to meet you."

"And I wish to introduce you to my friends," Thor said. "When I mentioned your name in my missive to the Man of Iron, he was most insistent. Apparently you are well-known in your field, and work for SHIELD?"

Leopold lowered his head, but not before Thor noticed his proud smile. "Who else d'you think cleans up after alien messes?"

"Did you ever meet… Phil Coulson?"

"N-no. Not while I was at the academy. I've only been going into the field for… not very long. I never met him before he died."

"The doctor Banner would also like to meet your other half… _platonic_ half, I hope. Jemma Simmons. She is the young woman I had the pleasure of meeting?"

"Yes," he said. "On both counts. She's my best friend." He chuckled. "It's weird… well, not weird, but surreal. We'd all been talking about you only a few minutes before. The women on the team are… terribly appreciative. Of you. Your form, more specifically. Prepare yourself for ogling when you meet them later."

"And what of your family?" Thor asked.

"Only my mother, and she'll want to spoil you dreadfully. Perhaps we could go to Scotland while we're still in the UK?"

"That…" He swallowed, remembering the last time he saw his mother alive, and when her boat was sent out into the night. "That sounds wonderful."

"Hey." Leopold leaned into his side, and Thor sensed his gaze. "I can feel your sadness, and we're not even bonded. My father walked out; he's not dead."

"No; however, I lost my mother within the last few days. She was defending the Lady Jane from Dark Elves. She received a warrior's farewell, but her death is fresh."

"Oh. Oh God, I'm so sorry, Thor. I didn't know… the way you said it, you were sad, yeah, but I didn't realise it was that recent." Thor felt the echo of Leopold's sorrow for him along an invisible string. "You can tell me about it, if you want. Or not, if you don't want to talk… The point is, I'm here for you. However you want me."

"And if I wish to be everything to you, Leopold?" Thor said. "If I wish you to be everything to me? Would you accept that?"

Leopold peeked up at him. "Yes. I wasn't sure how far… but you did mention my name being fit for a consort. I don't need expensive gifts, just my tech… and you, obviously. I really do prefer you to call me 'Leo', though. Only my mother calls me 'Leopold', and pretty much everyone else calls me 'Fitz'."

"We should learn more about each other, I am aware. Perhaps I can take you back to Jane's apartment?" In truth, Thor was curious to see how Mjolnir would react to his soulmate. A truer test could not be arranged, not even by Odin or Fury.

"And then we could go out for lunch… or dinner, I haven't adjusted to the time difference yet, and we've been working for a long time. Did you remember to eat lunch? I've heard that your appetite is… appropriate. For someone with your physicality. And pro-proportions." He cleared his throat, cheeks turning redder. "So to speak."

Thor smiled slyly. "I do indeed consume more than most mortals. It is necessary to maintain the same high level of… stamina." He paused just long enough to set the word apart from the rest, and the way Leopold… Leo stumbled was gratifying, although it did cause him a moment of panic and then regret. "I apologise."

"Well, that makes things clear," Leo muttered. "Right. Back to Dr. Foster's place, you said?"

"I believe I am getting accustomed to the Tube."

"Goodie. I just need an Oyster card, then."

* * *

**Why are they called Oyster cards, anyway? If it's supposed to be a reference to the world being a person's oyster, that doesn't make sense. Britain is tiny, and Oysters aren't used outside of the UK. At least our Go cards make more sense, since you can, y'know, GO places. Oyster? Really, people?**

**Anyway. Please review! And definitely no more pairing suggestions, okay? Just in case someone missed the previous announcement.**


	128. Context (Phil x Steve, Daisy x Lincoln)

**Note: Canon-divergent in that Rosalind Price didn't accept Phil's offer to join forces. This takes place sometime after that, and the events of 'Civil War'. Yes, I know it hasn't been released yet, so this is also screwing with the timeline. As with most of my fan fiction, this is just for fun, and necessary for this particular idea. And I still haven't seen episodes 5-7 yet, so again, no spoilers.**

"Context"

Thank God he'd sent Lincoln to spy on Rosalind Price's team.

Phil read over the notes and transcripts, fiddling with the index finger of one of his broken prosthetic hands. He'd heard about the war between Team Rogers and Team Stark over the registration act. Phil was very much on the fence about it, like any good SHIELD director would be. On the one hand, he understood the importance of accountability; on the other hand, people _did_ have a right to their privacy. And what about their loved ones? What about Barton's family?

He sighed. Rogers was being damned stubborn. It was admirable, but when Stark had apparently offered to cover damages to keep his former team-mates out of jail, even the superheroes he'd never met… Rogers had refused to accept it. True, he was unlikely to be in much danger at jail, but the president could hardly be seen to be sending America's national treasure to prison. Instead, he was serving some parody of community service with the ATCU. Catching Inhumans.

Alright, Lincoln had been a sacrifice to keep S… Daisy safe. A useful sacrifice, after Rosalind refused Phil's offer of himself, and when Lincoln found out the reason for the exchange, he was happy to do as Phil asked. (Once this was over, Phil got the feeling he was going to have to have a 'talk' with Lincoln, make sure that he wasn't going to break Daisy's heart. Soulmates or no.)

And now the ATCU had gone back on their word – surprise, surprise – and were sending Captain America after Daisy.

"Prepare ammunition which will take down a super soldier," he told Fitz.

"Barnes?" his engineer asked. Phil exhaled slowly.

"No," he said. The pause was long, and when he looked up he saw Fitz's astonished expression. Phil was still having trouble believing what this had come to. Had he known about the deal in time, he would've contacted the Avengers and offered a place at SHIELD for the captain. Instead they were at odds, or soon would be.

"Yes, sir," Fitz said.

"As soon as possible. The ATCU doesn't know where we are – I hope to Thor that they don't – but Agent Johnson has to leave the building sometime, so we have to make sure the circumstances are in our favour."

"Does she know yet?"

"I've asked her to meet me in my office in ten minutes."

"Right." Fitz bowed his head. "I'll get right on to it, sir. Maybe up the voltage on the ICERs…"

Phil left him muttering to himself, and returned to his office. He steeled himself for what could become an awkward conversation. Daisy hadn't spoken to him since he sent Lincoln to the ATCU, not once.

She was waiting outside for him, and he gestured her in first. She sat down, still not speaking, and Phil's heart sank. He perched on the edge of his chair.

"Lincoln's informed me that the ATCU still wants you," he said. "I don't think they'll be prepared to make an exchange this time. I have Fitz working on a weapon to fight against whoever they'll send after you—"

"What about the human porcupine?" she said, interrupting. It was almost nice to have her talking to him again.

"We still don't know enough about him," he said. "If it's even a man."

"Right." Daisy didn't continue, so Phil resumed the conversation.

"I was thinking that since the ATCU went back on their word, we should extend Ms. Price the same courtesy. You'll be bait, Lincoln will organise to be there when the ATCU descends, and we'll take him back. Both of you back at the base, where you belong. If Lincoln wants to be relocated, I'm sure we can manage that. Again. Maybe a little makeover first, fake his death so he's no longer a fugitive." He swallowed before adding, "And if you want, you can go with him. Be happy. While the haircut's nice, you might want to change your look slightly as well."

"Fake my death, too?" He couldn't read her expression. Damn May and her lessons.

"If that's what it takes, yes. I want you to be happy."

"You shouldn't have made the exchange in the first place, Coulson."

"I regret nothing," he said. "I did it to keep you safe from them. Now that that's changed, you and Lincoln can be reunited. If only we could send you to Asgard."

"Yeah, that'd be a bit of a bust," Daisy said, stretching back in her chair. "You're really do this for us?"

"Of course I would."

"And who'll you be going up against?"

"The ATCU."

"Yeah, I realise that. But the bald guy who sounds like he's had a tonsillectomy?"

"I think they'd send in the big guns for you… metaphorically speaking. I hope."

"Great." She smiled insincerely. "New identities. I'm used to it."

"Lincoln won't want to stay here, and he's your soulmate. I'm giving you the option of going with him. I know… you don't trust me anymore." _Even though I was doing it for you, Skye_, he thought. "I'm lucky that Mack stayed behind, really lucky. Hell, I could arrange an interview for you with Pepper Potts, through Maria Hill. You could work for Stark Industries. Fitz would be jealous as hell."

"True." She nodded. "Give me a minute to think about it?"

"You have until Fitz has finished work. I'll make plans, talk to Lincoln. Organise something. You just play your part when the time comes. If you decide to leave SHIELD, then you'll just need to run to May and she'll fly you and Lincoln wherever you want to go. Leave the ATCU to me."

Daisy frowned. But she left the office when Phil gestured to the door, and he picked up the phone to call Lincoln. He'd also contact Maria, confident that Daisy would take the chance to be free. Maybe she and Lincoln could live in Wisconsin and get a dog? They knew a good vet.

* * *

Steve looked over the files Rosalind had given him, studying the picture of the young woman he was supposed to track and take in. Or take out, but the ATCU preferred her alive, and so did Lincoln. He didn't have to say anything; Steve was observant enough to know that the young man cared about her. Whoever the director of this new SHIELD was, he'd given Lincoln to the ATCU to save Daisy Johnson.

Guy sounded like a jerk, keeping two soulmates apart. If Steve had a soulmate, he never would've stood for it.

It's not that he didn't have a soulmark. But it was only a few years old. It still gave him comfort, sometimes echoing his feelings, or influencing them. He'd never heard of any cases like that, so he figured it was a super soldier thing. If only he'd had the chance to talk to Bucky about it, before…

He'd been angry as all get out when Steve agreed to work for the government in exchange for his friend's freedom. Stark never would've looked after Howard's possible killer, even if Steve begged. Sam promised to take care of him for Steve while he worked off the debt to society.

Assuming he was ever able to work it off. In the meantime, Bucky was better off working things out with a trained counsellor. Sam had even mentioned getting in touch with a friend of his, a Professor Garner, for advice. The fact that Natasha agreed with his recommendation should've been suspicious, but Steve was just grateful, and figured that she'd had him checked out first.

"There's been a sighting," Rosalind said, walking into the room and interrupting Steve's reverie. Lincoln was hovering at the back of the group, and Steve got to his feet. "Suit up, private." (Well, technically he'd never been promoted to captain; he'd stolen the title… sort of.) "We'll have a limited window of opportunity before the other guy catches up to them. I still have my reservations about you going with him." This time she spoke to Lincoln, who stared straight back.

"I'm sure he'll be helpful," Steve said. "She wouldn't hurt him." He really hoped the young man wasn't going to be used as bait. "Who else is going?"

"The two of you, but they'll be backup. Co… the director has located another Inhuman, so if we're lucky, we'll be able to net two of them." Acting like Lincoln wasn't an Inhuman. Steve gritted his teeth behind a close-lipped smile, and followed their boss out of the room.

Throw her in a boxing ring with Natasha, and see who lasted longer. The thought made Steve's smile slightly more genuine, which was sometimes necessary.

On the journey, he kept his arms crossed, one finger stroking the place where his soulmark was located several inches below his left armpit. It matched his agitation and nervousness; his soulmate was either reflecting his feelings, or also felt anxious about something. This would've been a really good time to have some support. Less than a week after the battle of New York he'd received his mark, and at first the feelings he got from it were pain, making him wonder whether his soulmate had died and been brought back to life. (Either that or he was in for a long wait.)

He never told anyone, not even his friends, about his mark. They weren't supposed to be empathic, as far as he could tell. Feeling his soulmate's pain, then relief, panic, lethargy, and happiness in the week following had kept him awake at night. When SHIELD fell, there was worry, sadness, and fear. Had his soulmate worked for SHIELD? Or worse, for _HYDRA_? (No. That was impossible. It wasn't Bucky, so it was impossible.) He'd once lived for the happiness he'd sensed, and now those times were few and far between. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt anything resembling happiness from his soulmark. Only loneliness and despair.

_I hope I find you soon_, he thought. _I wanna make you happy. I wanna make you proud. Please don't be disappointed when we meet. Please?_

"We're here," Lincoln said, stopping the car. Steve had barely noticed when they got into their own vehicle, leaving the rest of the ATCU to track New SHIELD from another direction. They both climbed out, and Lincoln squatted down to rest his hands on the ground. "I can feel… yeah, they're nearby. They'll know we're here when we get close enough."

"Because you're soulmates," Steve said. Lincoln nearly fell over as he stood up, and looked at Steve wide-eyed. "Son, don't ever go into espionage. Could be down to my enhanced senses, but I can tell when you lie."

Lincoln didn't reply. His expression closed up, and he silently led the way through the trees in the thickest woods surrounding the public park.

"I understand," Steve said, trying to provoke some reaction. "She's your girl, you never got your chance together. I've got my own regrets. Peggy and I weren't soulmates, but there was something between us. And maybe I'm wrong, and you and Johnson aren't soulmates. But there's something between you, stronger than there was between me and Peggy, or even me and Bucky. You deserve the chance to explore that together, and I'm sure the ATCU—"

"Shut up, unless you want them to hear us," Lincoln said. That was better than the silence, at least. "You're lucky we're not on comms."

"You said no tech, in case Johnson did something to it."

"She could." Lincoln halted, and Steve pulled up short beside him. The young man sent a sparkle of electricity through the ground, but it didn't touch Steve. He was always amazed by Lincoln's control over his power, and what it could achieve. What he _had_ achieved, despite the odds.

No wonder he empathised with the boy; they'd both been fugitives from the law because of crimes they didn't commit. In Lincoln's case, he'd been taken off the wanted list, but enough people knew his name. Surprisingly, he'd rejected changing his look. Then again, he didn't go out.

For that matter, neither did Steve. If only he could grow facial hair. At least Lincoln had that option.

"She's here," Lincoln whispered. "They both are. And there's…" He smiled slowly, and Steve felt uneasy. The anxiety in his soulmark didn't help, made him feel more paranoid. He looked around, and realised that he could only see trees, nothing of the outside world aside from the sky.

"Lincoln!"

They both turned towards the voice, and Steve wished he had his shield. But he'd left it in Bucky and Sam's care, knowing that he needed to separate himself from Captain America for God knows how long. Maybe forever. He tensed as Daisy Johnson appeared through the bushes, carrying a tote bag.

"Daisy," Lincoln said, stepping towards her. Steve recognised that he was right to be paranoid, and glared at the Inhumans.

"You tricked me," he said.

"The ATCU is _not_ getting their hands on her," Lincoln said. "My bag's in the trunk."

"We'll get it. May's picking us up near there. Come on."

"I can't just let you two go," Steve said, looking from one to the other. "It's my job to bring you in."

"It's your duty as Captain America to let innocent people go free," Johnson said.

"I'm not Captain America anymore!" Steve snapped. The weight of his words hung over him, but it didn't stop him from reaching for the gun strapped to the inside of his jacket. He'd barely drawn it before Lincoln had blasted it out of his hand, and Johnson's hands were up. He could feel vibrations pushing him backwards, but damned if he was going down without a fight.

Then someone else walked out of the bushes, and Steve was nearly knocked off his feet when he was confronted with the ghost of Agent Phil Coulson.

"Daisy, Lincoln, go now," the ghost said. He looked flesh and blood, and sounded like the Coulson who sometimes haunted Steve's dreams, whenever he dreamt of his failures as a leader and a symbol.

"Come on," Johnson said, grabbing Lincoln's hand. She dragged him in a different direction, and Steve had to focus all his attention on the clone in front of him. It couldn't be the real Phil Coulson, because he was dead. Had been for three years. And he never would've aimed a gun at Steve.

"This is so damn hard," the Coulson copy said.

Steve's world froze, like he was back in the Atlantic, or seeing Bucky's face for the first time in seventy years, or facing off against Howard's son in battle.

"Not the context I was expecting," he admitted.

"…Shit."

"You can't be Phil Coulson. That's impossible."

"When will you start believing that nothing is impossible?"

Okay, that was a good point. Steve gulped.

"You're really… Agent Coulson?"

"No." Damn it. "I'm Director Coulson of SHIELD, and I have to ask you, very nicely, to stop going after potential assets. And current assets who've had a crappy life and deserve a long, _very_ long, vacation."

"You're Phil Coulson? The guy who died when Loki stabbed—"

"Yes, Thor's brother killed me, but I got better."

A lump formed in Steve's throat. "How…"

"When the director of a spy organisation likes you very, very much, he'll go to extraordinary lengths to resurrect you. Perks of being Fury's one good eye."

"So… can we address the fact that we're soulmates?" he asked. Coulson pursed his lips, and shook his head.

"I wish we'd gotten to you before the ATCU," he said. "You could've… but now that's all over. I'm sorry, I truly am, but I need you to leave now. Pretend this never happened. If you need help hiding from the government, please tell Maria Hill. Or Fury, next time he pops out of the woodwork. Don't come looking for us, though. Our location is secret for a reason, and that reason is for my people's safety."

"How am I supposed to believe this is real?" Steve said.

"You could try taking it on faith, if finding out that Norse gods are real hasn't shaken your previous beliefs."

This Coulson was so different from the one Steve had seen before… more like the one Clint and Natasha had talked about. Cold, indifferent, as unfeeling as a robot, and highly competent.

Unfeeling…

Steve paid attention to his soulmark. He wasn't getting anything from it, maybe because Coulson simply… didn't feel anything for him, now that he knew who his soulmate was. Oh wait. There it was.

_Disappointment_.

He stumbled back a couple of steps, clenching his fists. Coulson lowered his weapon, smiling ruefully, but it was all an act, wasn't it?

"You were alive all this time," he said slowly.

"Most of it, yes."

"It's… it's been three years, Coulson. Why didn't you come forward?" Suddenly furious with the deception, Steve stalked towards him. "Why—"

Something hit him in the chest, a flash of blue from Coulson's weapon the only visual of the ammunition. As Steve hit the ground, he felt a hint of regret from the soulmark, and tried to raise his head. Why did he feel so damn tired? Why wasn't there pain?

"I'm sorry, Mr. Rogers," Coulson said. Steve tried to fight his closing eyes.

"Take… m'with…"

He couldn't even get out one sentence before everything faded.

* * *

"You tased Captain America."

"No," Phil said indignantly. "I _iced_ Captain America."

"Don't you think that's inappropriate?"

"I really regressed to my childhood, when I started helping my mother make my birthday cakes," he continued. May frowned; she still hadn't talked about Hunter yet, and Phil knew Bobbi was getting antsy. This vendetta against Ward was ridiculous; it could easily spiral out of control, and then where would that leave them? Where would it leave _Hunter_, if he came back? (If he survived?)

"I took Daisy and Lincoln to—"

"Don't tell me. The fewer people who know, the better."

"So." May crossed her arms. "What're you going to do about him?"

She indicated Captain Rogers, who was stretched out on one of the hospital beds. The scratches from the bushes he'd landed in had already healed up, and Phil had cleaned his face and hands personally. He resisted the urge to check for a soulmark, and kept away from the spot on his right arm where his own mark was printed.

When it showed up after his death, Phil thought it was strange that the writing was so similar to Captain… to Steve Rogers's handwriting. It was part of the reason he was happy to stay away from the Avengers; either he'd be disappointed to find out that it _wasn't_ the captain, and he'd have to keep looking, or he'd be disappointed to find out that the hero he admired would hate his guts for not revealing himself sooner. Lose-lose situation. He was getting remarkably used to those.

"I should leave," he said. May arched her eyebrows. "I know that doesn't solve the problem of what to do with him. We'll need to sedate him again, and move him somewhere he can be picked up—"

"By whom?" she asked. Phil floundered for a moment.

"Friends," he said.

"You're not giving him a choice."

"I can't afford to. I'm the director of SHIELD—"

"And he's Captain America."

Phil stared through the glass. "He's my soulmate. I thought… I'd never get one. I waited so long that I figured I'd be a mentor figure to my much younger soulmate, or die in the field. Then I got my soulmark, and now I don't know what to do. If I'd received one when I was still a young man I would've done everything in my power to hold on. Now… now I have to let go." May didn't reply, and Phil lowered his head, unwilling to translate her non-expressions. He was too damned tired. "I need to figure this out. Make sure he can't escape when he wakes up."

"We both heard what happened when he _did_ wake up after more than sixty years," she said. Phil paused at the door.

"Then tell him I'll talk to him later, if he wakes up before I return."

"Yes, sir."

He ignored the sarcastic tone and returned to his office.

* * *

Steve catalogued what he could tell of his surroundings before slowly opening his eyes. He noticed an Asiatic woman beside him, probably older than she looked, and noted that she had no visible weapons. He was on a hospital bed, no Peggy look-alike, and tried to recall the last thing…

A dead man. Coulson.

"_This is so damn hard."_

Steve had told the truth; he didn't expect that context, i.e. being held at gunpoint by someone whose funeral he had attended. Was that a lie? Did he ever really die, or was it all a trick? A trick that worked, but he'd regretted the man's death.

Why did his soulmark show up nearly a week after Coulson was stabbed by Loki?

…No. No, no, no. Impossible. He must've coded a few times, temporarily died on about the fourth or fifth day post-surgery, and then survived. That was the only possible, logical, _humane_ explanation.

"You think loudly," the woman said, startling Steve. He realised he was scowling, and tried to smooth out the lines on his forehead.

"Phil," he croaked, and then cleared his throat.

"May," she said. "Director Coulson told me to inform you that he would speak with you later. Being his messenger isn't in my job description, at least not this kind of message."

"Where is he?" Steve said, sitting up carefully. He swung his legs around, watching her as much as she was watching him. Live and work with Natasha Romanov long enough, and you know better than to underestimate female SHIELD agents. If she was his sole guard, wherever they were, she had to be good. Especially if Coulson left her on guard.

"His office," she said. Steve glanced around.

"We're on a ship," he said.

"I can't confirm that."

"Of course," he muttered. "Can you point me the way?"

"Just wait here. The director will see you when he's ready."

"Did he tell you that we're soulmates?" She inclined her head the barest inch, which he took to mean 'yes'. "What about the ATCU?"

"They double-crossed us," she said.

"What?"

"It sounds more dramatic."

"Look, Agent…?"

"May."

"Agent May," since that was apparently her surname, "I was there on condition—"

"Coulson is sorting it out," May said. "You won't have to return to them."

"You don't know them—"

"But he does, and you don't know Phil Coulson."

"Do you?" he said.

"Better than most people," she said. "He never stops giving up everyone he loves for SHIELD. His girlfriend, the young woman he considered a daughter—"

"Daisy Johnson?"

Again, she didn't confirm it. "If you turn out to be immune to that, it's not because you're soulmates. It's because you were once a SHIELD agent, and could be again. If you don't work for us, you won't see him again."

"That an ultimatum?"

"It's not up to me to give an ultimatum," she said. "You'll see that I'm right, because I know Phil Coulson. You don't. I know about the cards – everyone does – and it would be a mistake for you to think that being his soulmate makes you special."

That set Steve's teeth on edge. He opened his mouth to chew her out, but she walked out of the room. She massaged her jaw, but he hadn't seen a mark. Maybe she didn't bruise? Or just didn't talk much. He snorted at the thought, and stood up.

Time to prove her wrong.

And then the moment he set foot out the door, alarms started sounding off. He looked up, and saw a red light flashing above the doorway. Goddamnit. With a sigh, Steve retreated to the room. Knowing SHIELD, it would be a maze out there, and he didn't wanna be shot again. Maybe he should call Bucky or Sam?

No phone. Double damn it.

A screen lit up on the wall of the room, and Steve perched on the edge of the hospital bed as Coulson came into view.

"I'm sure Agent May told you I'd visit soon," he said. Steve glared at the image.

"What can I say?" he said. "I'm an impatient guy, at least where finally meeting my soulmate is concerned. Not like I could call you."

"One of my agents took your phone apart before we brought you back here, to make sure any tracking chips were removed. If it's any consolation, we dug the one out of your arm, as well."

"Arm…?" Steve stared at him. "I never consented to a tracking chip."

"Was there ever a time when you were unconscious while in the ATCU's custody?"

"…Fuck."

"Language, Captain Rogers."

Steve nearly gave him the finger, but restrained himself. He clutched the edge of the mattress, fighting nausea. How did they manage to implant a tracking chip without his knowledge? Super-healing would have concealed it, but knocking him out hard enough in the first place? Maybe it was similar to whatever Coulson used?

"What do you intend to do with me?" he asked, drawing into military stance and using his Captain America voice. There was a flash of excitement across Coulson's face, so brief he might've missed it, before the man disappeared behind the stoic exterior of Fury's replacement. Steve bet the former director hand-picked Coulson, and he probably couldn't have done better. But now they were both in an awkward position.

"I can call in some favours," Coulson said, and Steve should probably have thought of him as Phil, but it was hard to when this wasn't the Phil Coulson he'd met. "I think you should know I've also contacted the original Avengers I was able to find and informed them of my… return. It's only fair that I tell you what I told them—"

"`Specially seein' as how we're soulmates," Steve said. Coulson hesitated, and then launched into a horrifying account of the TAHITI procedure, the madness that began to set in when a memory machine helped Coulson recall begging for death, the alien writing, and finding the temple at San Juan… Half of that while he was trying to revive a fallen secret organisation with scant resources and personnel while keeping under Tony Stark's radar.

"So now you know," he finished.

"Yeah," Steve said quietly. "Shit, Coulson."

"If I'd known for sure you were my soulmate… I thought the writing was similar, but it's been PT, then 'hit the ground running', not searching databases."

He mulled over this while Coulson typed something. It seemed a bit slow, and when Steve gave the video screen a second look he noticed…

"You've only got one hand," he said.

"It was that or my life, so one of my agents decided to save me," Coulson said.

"When?"

"Not long ago, so please limit the jokes."

"I'd never make jokes about… about _that_ kind of thing."

Coulson stopped typing and glanced at Steve.

"I know," he said.

"What are your plans for me?"

"Send you into hiding, with the story that you're working off your debt undercover. We leave SHIELD's name out of it, though I wouldn't mind spreading the story that the ATCU inserted a tracking chip into your body without your consent. So long as we can do it without mentioning that they were able to render you unconscious."

"Wanna piss them off?"

"They messed with my… they were in the wrong."

It gave Steve some hope – not much, but some – and he moved closer to the screen.

"What if I stayed _here_?" he said. "Undercover?"

"Captain…"

"Sir, with all due respect, we're soulmates." He pulled off his shirt without preamble and turned so that Coulson could see the mark better. "You said my words, and you haven't denied it yet, so I'm guessin' I did say yours. You wouldn't be tryin' t' send me away with a cover story unless you wanted to keep me safe. So I'm thinkin' that Agent May doesn't know you as well as she thinks she does, because if I wasn't your soulmate, hero or not, you'd treat me like anyone else. You'd actually make use of my… abilities, not try to shelter me. It wouldn't work."

Coulson shifted the tiniest bit in place.

"Be that as it may," he said, "you've caused one hell of a problem for me. If you want to discuss it—"

"In. Person," Steve said.

"Then you'd better come to my office. Memorise these directions."

* * *

Phil wondered what the hell he was thinking. His childhood hero and _soulmate_ was on his way, and Phil wanted to protect him the way he'd never wanted to protect anyone before, even Audrey and Daisy. They were special, but he'd left one behind and let the other one go. From what he'd heard, Audrey had found her soulmate, Daisy and Lincoln had a new start with each other, and Phil…

He wasn't used to the idea of romance going his way. There was also little to no chance that the captain would want that with him. It would be awkward; he barely knew how to behave around the man before, made a complete idiot of himself, and now they were soulmated to each other? Not that a bond would happen. Probably the only reason they were soulmates was to help Daisy and Lincoln get away (because sometimes it seemed like so much of the crazy in their lives revolved around the messes her life created). The unprecedented distraction worked, and the only reason shooting _his soulmate_ was necessary was to stop him from coming after Phil. And… he'd brought him back to base instead of leaving him for the ATCU.

After hearing that they implanted the tracker without permission, he felt vengeful.

"Come in," he said. He didn't need to look up; he'd felt the captain's presence the way he'd sometimes gotten feelings from his soulmark. He'd attributed the abnormality to the alien blood in him, maybe the madness, or maybe even the fact that at his age he _still_ hadn't met his soulmate. Could it be because of the serum? Or a combination of that and the Kree blood?

No idea, and he wasn't keen on the idea of giving Simmons his blood to examine until they were all sure she was back on form.

"I came up with my own plan," Steve said as he sat in the visitor's chair.

"Alright," Phil said. "Let's hear it."

"I pass the Captain America baton on to Sam or Bucky… maybe Bucky, because the Falcon is now an established superhero, whereas the Winter Soldier is still considered a bad guy. You take me on as an agent, or whatever position you want to give me, and… and maybe take me on as your soulmate, too." He looked uncharacteristically shy, and looked down at his hands while he waited. Phil's heart went out to him.

"In what way?" he asked. "As my soulmate?"

"In whatever way you want."

"What I want may be different from what _you_ want."

"I'll take anything," Steve said. "You dated a _female_ cellist."

Phil tried to wrap his head around what the captain was implying.

"Yes," he said. "But I've dated men as well. Not at the same time, of course."

"Of course," Steve said. "So you'd be happy…?"

"Would _you_ be happy?" Phil pressed. "You and Peggy Carter…"

"What, so you're allowed to like both, but I'm not?"

"No! No, I didn't mean that. But your almost-relationship was legendary."

"She wasn't my soulmate. We liked each other a lot, but it never went any further than a kiss."

"It's not only that," he said. "When we first met I acted like a complete moron."

"Only a partial moron," Steve said, his lips quirking up at the edges. "And if I hang up my SHIELD permanently then that won't be between us."

"I started to think of you differently after I came back to life," Phil said. "It doesn't mean I don't love… admire the legend. But I accepted that you weren't the man I'd built up in my head, and that was okay. I prefer humans to fictional characters."

"Thanks, I guess." Steve's eyebrows tugged together slightly, and Phil mentally chastised himself for putting his foot in it again.

"I'm always awkward around you," he said.

"Right now, you're being an ass, not awkward. If you don't think we can be in any kind of relationship, say so. I'm a straight-talking man at heart. It's Captain America who gives the inspirational speeches. I guess the others will have to work on that."

Phil exhaled gradually. "You really think this is the best idea?" he said.

"It's the one I prefer. Anything where you don't send me away from you is good."

"It'd crossed my mind," Phil said. "More than crossed it. While we were talking before I was even making travel arrangements for you."

"Damn it, Phil!"

Despite the cap… despite Steve's indignation, Phil smiled.

"That's the first time you've used my first name," he said. Steve looked confused for a second, and then bashful.

"Let me stay?" he said. And he turned those blue puppy-dog eyes on Phil, which was extremely unfair. He tried hard not to cave, but he was pretty sure even May would find it hard to stay strong under those circumstances. (Fine, maybe not May, but pretty much anyone else.)

"Okay," he said, and Steve's face lit up. "I need time to… plan things. But I'll cancel the travel arrangements and organise a lanyard for you. It's a formality, kind of a bittersweet in-joke between the original members of my team."

Steve nodded, and got to his feet when Phil stood. "The rest of it?"

"The rest…?"

He received a withering look, and Steve pointed at his side. Oh. Soulmates.

"Over something more casual that's not in my office," he said. Steve nodded.

"Fair enough," he said. "I'm gonna hold you to that. Then maybe I'll get to hold you against somethin' else later."

Phil sat down again to hide his reaction to that, and rolled his chair under his desk.

"Please return to the room you woke up in, and I'll send someone to meet you there," he said brusquely. Steve nodded, smirking, and gave him an informal salute. Then he sauntered out the door in a way which made his hips sway, and Phil questioned his own judgement.

Somewhere, Fate was laughing at him.

* * *

**FIRST OF ALL, ARE MY FRENCH READERS OKAY? Seriously, if you live in France, especially Paris, please tell me you're fine. Even those who don't usually review, I'd like to know whether anyone's been personally affected. And if you usually review, PLEASE leave a message saying that you're alive, because otherwise I'll worry even more. Silence is horrible.**

**This chapter was supposed to be much longer – you might notice the trails I left – but I wanted to post something. Then it was getting too late last night, which is why I'm posting this before going to church this morning. Hopefully things have settled somewhat by now, and it'll be easier for people to reply.**


	129. In the Pub (Fitz x Scott x Tony)

**Note: Set in season two, while Fitz, Hunter, and Coulson are on the run. Canon-divergent from then on.**

"In the Pub"

Fitz was tempted to compile a database of the number of pubs by country, make graphs comparing land area and population. The results could be interesting. Then again, someone had probably done it already, so it'd be a waste of time and resources.

Much like him. While Hunter and Coulson were on the run, he was drinking. Not much (sort of), but it was a waste of time and money when he should've been looking for them.

"I'm a terrible friend," he informed the hooded person on the stool beside him.

"Can't be worse than me," the stranger replied.

Fitz may've been drinking too much, when he thought about it, because while the words seemed familiar – voice, too – he couldn't work out why.

"Brain damage sucks," he said, hoping to stretch out the conversation.

"So does alcohol poisoning."

"Wouldn't know about that. I come from Scotland; I can hold my liquor." He squinted at his glass. "Usually. I prob'ly shouldn't be drinking on medication."

The stranger snorted, and tipped his glass towards Fitz. "Never stopped _me_ before."

Fitz clinked their glasses together, drained his, and signalled for another. It's not like he had to drive anywhere. The stranger also signalled for another drink, and they toasted each other's health.

After more self-pitying chatter, they stumbled out of the pub before they could be thrown out, turned into a darkened alleyway, and Fitz blew the stranger against the wall. Then the man pressed him against the brickwork, and used his hand to reciprocate while they kissed messily. Not one of Fitz's better ideas, but it felt damn good. Climax cleared his head somewhat, and he took himself back to his motel room, full of self-loathing as he peeled off his sticky clothes.

Right. As soon as he felt more sober, he'd commence evasive manoeuvres. Real SHIELD would find him, and they'd come after him when they found out the truth about Fury's cube. Better to get to Coulson as soon as possible.

Fitz checked his watch, where a little light flashed, telling him that there was vibranium nearby. That way he didn't have to check on the cube, and draw attention to its location. He'd probably check anyway, though; it seemed to be malfunctioning, because he was sure it'd been flashing earlier. While he was at the pub.

Weird. But that was a concern for the morning.

* * *

Light hurt. It was days like this where Tony wondered whether Montgomery Burns had the right idea about blocking out the sun.

Then he reminded himself that Maggie Simpson shot Mr. Burns. Due to an unrelated matter, and Tony knew better than to steal actual candy from babies, but… ugh, he was so hung-over. It felt different, and he had no idea why. Did someone slip him something while he was out on the town? Okay, he should've known better, but he wore a hoodie! The disguise worked for Romanov and Rogers; why shouldn't it work for Tony?

_Because she's a spy and Captain America wears a cowl_, he reminded himself, and he groaned into his pillow. Fame had its downsides.

"J, where's Brucey?" Tony mumbled.

"Dr. Banner is preparing coffee for you, sir," JARVIS said.

"How did I get home?"

"You walked, sir, until Mr. Hogan picked you up three blocks from the tower. You have been in worse states before. In fact…" Here, JARVIS paused. "You were happy."

"…But I'm a melancholy drunk nowadays," Tony said.

"Captain Rogers has left another card for Alcoholics Anonymous taped to the bathroom mirror, sir. And every door between here and your workshop, as well as every refrigerator."

"I have the worst friends."

"They care about you, sir," JARVIS said. Tony snorted, and winced at the resulting ache along the bridge of his nose.

"Why was I happy?" he asked, forcing himself to sit up. Slowly.

"Mr. Hogan informed me that you were saying 'I met him, I finally met him'. Then you fell asleep on the backseat, sir. Do you recall to whom you were referring?"

Tony gingerly rubbed his temples, trying to remember anything of last night. He licked his lips, crusted at the corners, and wondered what the hell he'd drunk. There was definitely a foreign taste… did he kiss someone? Was there anything on social media about it?

"J," he said, and he swung his legs around. "Are there pictures?"

"No, sir. You were not recognised; and if you were, there is no evidence online."

Tony didn't know how to feel about it. He didn't like being able to solve mysteries, so unless he had his own evidence somewhere…

"I think I kissed someone," he said. "If Happy was right, it must've been a guy. But I'm having trouble remembering."

"Dr. Banner has brought tea as well," JARVIS said. "Perhaps they will help?"

"`Kay," Tony said. He heaved himself to his feet, and then had to head straight for the en suite. Once most of the alcohol was out of his system – from both ends – he cleaned up and left his bathroom. Bruce, bless his big green heart, was waiting. Tony went straight for the tea, hoping it would settle his stomach. Bruce didn't speak until he'd drained half the mug and started on the coffee.

"Happy told me what you were saying," the doctor said, and Tony sighed after he swallowed three mouthfuls. "Do you think it was your soulmate?"

Good thing he was holding the mugs, because Tony would've dropped them.

"Oh," he said. "Yeah. Maybe." A flash of light-coloured, curly hair flashed past his eyes. The trace of a foreign accent echoed through his ears. _'I'm a terrible friend.'_ Oh. "Shit, I think so. I think I met my soulmate."

"And you didn't bring them home?"

"I… I don't think I even got his number. Or his name." Wow, he'd sunk to new lows if he didn't even get the most basic information about his soulmate, let alone remember him. And after the time they'd spent sulking together and then getting it on… in an alley. God, it was like he was living a cliché. The dictionary definition of the start of a young adult dramedy.

"Oh, Tony," Bruce said.

"JARVIS," Tony said.

"Here are your movements from last night, based on the tracking chip in your phone," the excellent AI said, producing a screen. "You attended only the one bar. Shall I access their security cameras?"

"Yep, oh most wonderful artificial intelligence."

Bruce made sure Tony ate something substantial while JARVIS found the cleanest images of the man Tony had talked with (and later jerked off, he was pretty sure).

"Do you wish me to run facial recognition?" JARVIS asked, while Tony stroked his soulmate's virtual cheek. Bruce was sniggering at him.

"Yeah," Tony said. He felt like he'd seen the face before last night, but then he was hung-over, or possibly still a bit drunk, so it's not like his memory was reliable.

"Done."

"…That was quick."

"It is Dr. Leopold Fitz, sir."

Tony nearly choked on his mouthful of pancake. Bruce patted and rubbed his back, and Tony managed to swallow.

"One of my soulmates is Leo Fitz?" he said. "Of FitzSimmons?"

"Apparently, sir. I cannot find anything on him other than the information in your personal database."

"My youngest soulmate is one of the brightest engineering minds that isn't mine," Tony murmured. "Brucey, I've gotta find him. I have to find my soulmate. He worked for SHIELD, but he… he couldn't be HYDRA, which means he's in danger from them. I _have_ to find him!"

"Okay, okay," Bruce said. "We'll start looking, Tony. But why don't you get clean first? Shower, brush your teeth, sober up. Get into nice clothes. Between us, it shouldn't take long. Maybe we'll even have his location by the time you get back out here. Alright?"

Tony nodded, and nearly tripped over as he ran back to his bedroom.

* * *

Fitz tried not to think about his shameful behaviour. The medication made it hard for him to remember anything he'd said, but the bitter taste in his mouth and ache in his scalp from someone pulling his hair made it pretty clear what'd happened. He didn't even remember much of a face – not the part of the body he'd been paying attention to – and he had more pressing matters. Like finding Coulson, and hoping he knew where Hunter was.

The function on his watch that detected vibranium was working perfectly, so last night was an anomaly. Or the trick of a drunk man's eyes. The cube was still intact, and he had an idea about how to open it. There was nothing wrong with his mind, just the nerves.

He proved it to himself by finally making contact with Hunter and Coulson. He felt a little worse for wear, and took advantage of the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. Hunter's instructions pounded through his head, and for once nerves _didn't_ make his hands shake. Fitz lost his tail, at least for a couple of hours. He knew where to meet Coulson and Hunter. It was simply a matter of getting there.

He managed to evade the Fake SHIELD agents for longer than he suspected. In fact, he began to think that he'd rejoin his boss and friend without detection… which probably jinxed him, to be honest. When he noticed that his tail had resumed, way too close to the meeting place, he began to run. Whether it was instinct or not, he got moving, weaving between people and resisting the temptation to look back over his shoulder. He heard a whirring sound getting louder, almost to a roar, and looked at the sky as something large hurtled in his direction.

There wasn't a chance for him to defend himself, and it would've been impossible anyway. Because within seconds he'd been swept into the air by Iron Man, or someone in an operational Iron Man suit. He held on tightly, determined not to be dropped by whoever this was.

"You're safe now!" the suit said. And it really did sound like Tony Stark. Fitz's eyes widened astronomically. "They won't get you!"

"W-who are you?" Fitz shouted. "You can't be…"

"Your soulmate? Tony Stark? Yeah, I think so, but I'd like to check my mark on you as soon as possible."

Fitz realised that the meeting point was fast disappearing into the background.

"Erm… I was supposed to be meeting up with someone, actually," he said. "From work? They'll probably have seen you taking off with me… that might be them calling now, in fact…"

"I'll intercept it."

"Oh God," Fitz muttered, and he held on tighter. If Stark heard Coulson's voice he might drop Fitz, which wasn't a good idea.

Instead of Stark's grip loosening, it tightened like his arms were a pair of clamps, nearly squeezing the breath out of Fitz.

"We'll talk about this later," Stark said. "Back at my place. Right now, I'm taking my soulmate home."

Fitz would've loved to see or hear Coulson's reaction to that piece of news, but he had to content himself with trying not to die. He trusted his soulmate to get him somewhere safe… although wouldn't it take awhile? He was hardly dressed for being out in the open at this altitude.

"Don't worry," Stark continued. Or should Fitz call him Tony? No, not until he knew whether they really were soulmates. "We're not flying all the way to New York. Hawkeye is picking us up on the way. Tell me you remember the other night?"

"I… some of it? My meds… they might've made it harder to remember things… and I swear I don't usually get drunk…"

"Have you met our third yet?"

Fitz shook his head. "I'm guessing you haven't, then?"

"No."

"Oh."

They were silent the rest of the way to a `jet in the sky. Natasha Romanov was there, co-piloting for Clint Barton. Fitz had met them both before, and wondered whether that was part of the reason they were there. Romanov nodded shortly when he waved to her, and said something to Barton in what sounded like Russian. The Iron Man suit peeled apart after the ramp closed, and Tony Stark stepped out.

"Is this your writing?" he asked, raising his shirt.

"You're not beating around the bush, are you?" Fitz remarked nervously, even as he stepped forward to look. He wished he could remember the meeting, hoped that he eventually would. Perhaps bonding…? No, he couldn't think like that. He ducked his head, and smiled as he nodded again. "Yes, that's mine."

"Show him yours," Romanov said.

"Might need help with that," he said, tugging at the corners of his shirt. "Hang on. I don't usually wear a suit, and my hands… after the brain damage…"

"You mentioned something like that, but I couldn't find files anywhere," Stark said, obliging Fitz by unbuttoning the lower half of his shirt. He turned around to show off the mark on his back, and pictured Stark spooning behind him, holding him close and protectively.

"Good girl, Skye," he murmured to himself.

"My writing," Stark said. He stroked the side of Fitz's soulmark, and then whirled him around. "It's you. It's… it's been a long time. I've wanted to meet you, Dr. Leo Fitz, for a _very_ long time, and you're my goddamn soulmate. One of them."

"It would be hilarious if our third was also an engineer," Fitz said, trembling as Stark pulled him closer.

"It would be terrifying for everyone if he or she was!" Barton called over his shoulder.

"Or very good for the modern world," Romanov said. Fitz felt dazed as Stark nuzzled behind his ear and pressed gentle kisses down his neck, beard scratching his overly sensitive skin.

"I-if Jemma and Banner turned out to be soulmates as well, think how much we could a-advance… advance…" That was terribly distracting, and Stark's chuckle caused his mind to blank further. "What, you can't be stopping now, can you?"

"We'd better sit down," Stark said, tugging Fitz over to the side. "And your phone's ringing again."

"Damn it."

"And there's another plane on the radar," Barton said.

"Might be… my boss," Fitz said. "Or the people who were after me. Well, the people they work for. I don't know."

"Who _was_ coming after you?" Stark said. "And do you know how hard it was to track you down? I'm just glad I was there to rescue you."

"I had it under control," Fitz grouched. "I just needed to get to the stairs and then the rooftop. I would've made it easily." Stark looked put out. "But… thank you. I'm not a field agent, so it's reassuring that you were there, in case… in case I _hadn't_ made it up there before they caught me."

"Who are they?" Romanov asked.

"They're… calling themselves SHIELD, but they're not really SHIELD."

"_Is_ there a SHIELD?" Stark said. "That would explain why _Phil Coulson_ was on the other end of that call."

"What?" Strike Team Delta chorused.

"He's the n-new director," Fitz said, feeling small as he sank back. "Of _real_ SHIELD. The other one, the fake one, is being run by Robert Gonzales."

"He's alive?" Barton said.

"And trying to access Fury's cube, which I _have_ to get to Director Coulson. Fury elected him the new director. He needs the cube." After a second's thought, something occurred to him. "There's vibranium in the arc reactor, isn't there?"

"That's…" Stark glanced away. "Classified."

"No. I've turned off the alert on my watch for now, since I know the cube's here, and it's made of vibranium. But the red light was flashing while I was in the pub the other night, and I thought it was malfunctioning. It _wasn't_, though. It detected vibranium nearby… _yours_."

"You have a vibranium detector in your _watch_?" he said.

"Better than checking the cube's location all the time, in case there was someone watching. The other SHIELD's been following me since I left. Jemma helped me smuggle the real cube out, leaving a fake behind. As soon as possible, I want to get her out of there. We're outnumbered… there's no way we can get the base back at the moment."

"You're not really going back to SHIELD, are you?" Stark said, frowning.

"It's my job."

"You said you left it."

"Well… that's true, but I'm loyal to Coulson. And Simmons… she's still there."

"We'll get her back for you, I promise. You'll both be safer with us. Work for Stark Industries. Technically you'd be working for Pepper, not me, so there wouldn't be a conflict of interest."

Fitz paused, considering it. Their work for SHIELD had taken a turn from what they'd both expected. It was mostly terrifying, and full of betrayal.

"I think May's co-operating, but I'm not sure why," he said. "Simmons is covering for me… we need to rescue her. I can't abandon Director Coulson if he's going back to SHIELD, or Hunter. We've all been betrayed by those we trusted one too many times. In my case, I nearly died for it." He clenched his fists, and Stark… Tony covered one of them and held on.

"What happened?" he murmured.

"Nearly drowned. Jemma saved me, but I… have problems. My hands shake, and words… sometimes…"

"Can I get Bruce to have a look at you? Please. It'll make me feel better. I'll get the best doctors I can—"

"I'd prefer to heal slowly than risk my brain in someone else's hands," Fitz said.

"Okay. That's fair enough. And we'll pick up anyone you want us to. Coulson was supposed to be our handler. A step down from director of SHIELD, but we have to do a lot of yelling at him. We'll collect all your friends for you." He squeezed Fitz's fist. "I promise. I'll do anything for my soulmates, so until I've got both of you prepared to be shamelessly spoiled."

He half-smiled. "I can live with that. For a little while."

"So tell me about yourself, anything SHIELD didn't have on record before your files went missing."

"Before Skye deleted them. Oh hell, we have to find Skye. Coulson and Hunter don't know where she is!"

"And we'll keep watch for her as well," Tony said. "But come on. I'm trying to get to know you here."

"You'll have to reciprocate, y'know," Fitz said. "I refuse to believe everything that's been written about you in the tabloids."

"…Really?"

"Yes. Can I see the Iron Man designs as well?"

He laughed. "Of course."

* * *

_Two months later_

The last several weeks had been hectic. As soon as they'd returned to the tower, they'd met up with Coulson, Hunter, and – Fitz was ecstatic to see – Mike Peterson. They were all immediately offered a place to stay, and Tony demanded to examine Mike's enhancements, with Bruce's help. This was after the Avengers spent nearly an hour chewing out Coulson for not telling them that he was alive, followed by him explaining everything which had happened to him since then.

After that, he introduced Hunter and Mike to the Avengers, and Tony showed off his soulmate to those he'd never met. JARVIS (and Fitz was possibly the most excited about meeting _him_) informed them that Pepper Potts had approved Fitz and Simmons working for Stark Industries in the science division. Coulson was adamant about restoring SHIELD… until he was swayed by Captain America's earnest puppy-dog eyes. Hunter said he went where Coulson went, so they organised a meeting for him with Maria Hill.

The next day, Fitz woke wondering whether it'd all been a dream, until he realised that he wasn't on a SHIELD base, wasn't in a cheap motel, but was instead in a literal bed of luxury. A guest suite in Stark Tower, because he refused to go straight to bed with his soulmate, especially since they hadn't met their third yet. Once one pair met, it usually didn't take long to find their third.

They didn't expect the circumstances.

Hunter had currently joined the hunt – and yes, there were jokes about that – for Bucky Barnes. Tony said that Steve and Sam clearly thought they were being covert about the search for his parents' possible killer, but they really weren't. Coulson and Hill had talked for a long time, both about his position as Avengers' handler (she promised to contact Fury for him) and Hunter's position as Coulson's assistant off the field, and civilian wrangler on the field. It was made official by the time Barton and Romanov infiltrated 'real' SHIELD and rescued… _evacuated _Simmons.

Tony's prediction came true.

"Hello, Dr. Simmons," Bruce said, shaking her hand. Jemma beamed.

"I've read all your works, and I'm such a great admirer," she babbled.

Tony guffawed. He knew Bruce's words, he managed to tell Fitz between giggles, which explained the baffled look on the doctor's face. Simmons was delighted to find her soulmate, and Pepper and Coulson were simultaneously hopeful that they wouldn't be bad influences on each other, and dreaded the possibility that they might instead bring about the end of the world through Science!.

Skye was spotted in Wisconsin the next week, with her father of all people, and JARVIS had contacted her on the phone she appropriated. He'd told her where to wait, and when the no-eyed man tried to take her he instead disappeared with her father, while she made a run for it. The available Avengers picked her up and brought her back to the tower for a relieved reunion.

Hill hadn't heard back from Fury, which meant they hadn't. And then Tony picked up Ultron, and he and Bruce tinkered with it while old New SHIELD caught up with each other. Mike was still with them, and was surprised when, like Captain America, he managed to move Mjolnir the tiniest bit.

Which was when Ultron chose to make his appearance, one month to the day after Tony and Fitz met. It was war, with fighting amongst the Avengers as much as against Ultron. Skye used her powers to shake the robot apart before he could escape.

"Told you I had them under control," she said. Simmons hugged her.

The living room was broken, and there were some minor injuries, but the threat had been stopped before it could wreak havoc on the world. Skye and Tony spent a few good hours making sure Ultron hadn't managed to infiltrate the internet.

JARVIS… well, it was a good thing both Fitz and Skye kept backups, otherwise they'd have lost him altogether. Tony was working night and day restoring him when Gonzales contacted Coulson through Fury, to say that Coulson could come back to SHIELD since it turned out that he _was_ supposed to be in charge.

"No, thank you," Coulson said. "I'm happy here. I'll even send you the cube. Good luck figuring out how to open it, by the way." Then he hung up, before turning to the team. "Alright, Wilson and Rogers sent me a message last night to say that they found… the Winter Soldier—"

"I know it's Barnes," Tony interrupted. Coulson paused, raised an eyebrow, and Tony raised his hands in surrender.

"And they want to bring him in. Until a decision has been reached, they're keeping him at the same facility where the Maximoff twins are being held until they've gotten a handle on their powers." With Skye's help, of course. "Wilson's still administering therapy to them part-time. He also wants to introduce you to Ant-Man, who helped them rescue Barnes from where he was caught in a machine. You may've heard of him. Scott Lang?"

"Name sounds familiar," Tony said, already on his StarkPad.

"He was arrested for exposing company fraud," Natasha said. "That's what it boils down to."

"He stuck it to the man and got punished for it," Skye said. "Sounds right."

"Ah yeah, another engineer," Tony said. He showed Fitz, who was cuddled beside him, the screen with his dossier. "One of many I've looked at hiring before, but then he was in prison and… well…"

"You'd heard of me," Fitz said.

"It's easier to poach SHIELD agents when you work with SHIELD, or have before. I expected to meet you sometime. Wait, Ant-Man." He frowned. "As in Hank Pym? He knows _Pym_?"

"Wilson wants to bring him here," Coulson repeated. "I don't know whether he's thinking about as a member of the Avengers, or simply a potential ally. Either way, what do you think?"

"Hey, one more brain to pick, right?" Tony said. Fitz cleared his throat. "And any friend of the Falcon…"

Coulson nodded. "I'll let him know."

In retrospect, they should've seen it coming. But honestly, who could predict what Scott Lang's first words would be when he met Fitz?

"Hi, how are you doing?" he asked, shaking Fitz's hand firmly.

"I'm… fine, thanks," Fitz said. They were expecting to meet their soulmate soon, but another superhero? Intimidating. Tony wasn't close enough to hear the conversation, and Lang's eyebrows were rising. "Let me introduce you to our third… I hope."

"Wow," Lang – Scott – said softly. "Okay."

"Tony!" Fitz called, and Scott's eyebrows shot up further. His jaw dropped. "Come over here!"

"Coming, cupcake," Tony said, strolling over and eyeing Scott up and down. "I wasn't expecting you to be _that_ shocked when we met."

"You have no idea," Scott said, and he glanced at Fitz. When Tony's eyes widened and he also looked at Fitz, he nodded, trying not to grin too widely.

"A trio of engineers," he said. "Who's going to tell Coulson?"

"Ooh, let me do it," Tony said, a wicked gleam in his eyes. He stole Scott's hand from Fitz. "Tony Stark. It's a pleasure to meet you, Scott."

"Pleasure's all mine," Scott said. "Um… I hope you don't mind kids. My ex-wife has custody of our daughter, but if I had a job and was living with my soulmates I might get partial custody. She's at school, elementary school. I'm sure she'll love both of you."

"I'll get on and design a floor for her," Tony said. "I have plenty of spare ones. You can have one of your own, if you want, or share with her for however long you want."

"You were married?" Fitz said.

"Became a necessity," Scott said. "Neither of us had met our soulmates, and we married for Cassie's sake. Now Maggie's found her soulmate…" He shrugged.

"The number of partners I've been through is the stuff of legends," Tony said, "so I don't have any ground to stand on."

Fitz felt the pressure when they both looked at him questioningly. He hadn't even discussed this with Tony. A passing mention of his former crushes on Simmons and Mack, and that was all.

"I'm still young," he mumbled. "Wanted to wait for my soulmates."

"You're adorable, and I should feel more ashamed of myself for wanting to drag you straight to bed," Tony said. "But I'm respecting your decision."

"I need to tell Cassie and Maggie about this first," Scott said. "And… you want me to move in here?"

"You can work for Stark Industries," Tony said. "For Pepper."

"No conflict of interest that way," Fitz added. Scott looked relieved.

"Thank you," he said.

"And we can discuss the rest over a drink," Tony said.

"Not the kind which occurred when _we_ first met," Fitz said.

"You're gonna love this story, Scott."

* * *

**I know, I haven't replied to all the reviews on the previous chapter yet. I'm so relieved that many of my French readers were able to reassure me that they were okay, and their families and friends as well.**

**Okay, so I've worked for this on a few days, but I had an epileptic seizure this morning. It meant I had the day off work, but I'm never in the best state of mind afterwards, and definitely couldn't have written anything. It's late at night here, so I'd better get on and edit and then post before bed.**

**Please review!**


	130. Reawakened (Audrey x Natasha x Phil)

"Reawakened"

_2012_

Natasha Romanov could not afford to get drunk. As in she literally did not have sufficient funds for the amount of liquor required to intoxicate her. And there was no way she was giving Stark the opportunity to test her limits by opening half the bars in New York to her. 'For science', he would no doubt say, and she questioned whether Dr. Banner would be any good at dissuading him. Unlikely.

The reason that Natasha was considering this… was her soulmark. She'd received two new ones within a week of the battle of New York, perhaps one right after the Hulk jumped ship. The other was a handful of days later, an itch during the night that had her tossing and turning until she woke.

It was in Coulson's writing, or something very like it. Which was why she was sitting at a window in the middle of the night, staring out unseeing at the stars and hoping that it _wasn't_ Phil Coulson's handwriting. Because that would mean another of Fury's lies, and SHIELD was home. Not Stark Tower, no matter what Stark had planned. SHIELD was home and family and friends all in one, and while she may never trust any of them fully – except Barton – she had to believe that Fury would never keep her from her soulmate if it _was_ Coulson.

If he'd somehow survived, coded, then survived again, bringing on a new soulmark… and if they were each other's soulmate, not one-sided… and he definitely knew her writing… If he didn't approach Natasha first, she would either have to assume that her soulmate was a stranger, or that Coulson didn't want her and the red in her ledger, and was avoiding them for that reason.

'_What brings you here?_' In his writing.

Her other mark said '_I recognise you from somewhere_.' It was a more feminine hand, which made Natasha nervous. She'd only ever been involved with men. Both marks were equally dark, meaning it was supposed to be a non-platonic relationship. With a _woman_? Natasha had never considered that.

She had never had a soulmark until this week, and now she had two of them. Was it Coulson's cellist, or someone else? Who was it, if Coulson wasn't their third?

Natasha rested her forehead against the cold glass of the window, her gentle breaths creating a mild fog on the surface.

"Agent Romanov, are you unwell?" JARVIS asked softly.

"My first soulmarks," she told him. "Two of them this week. I wonder if the third one is free?"

She didn't know whether it was impressive or creepy that Stark had included laugh capability in the AI running his life.

"Congratulations, Agent Romanov," he said after a brief chuckle. Natasha stared at the ceiling. "Would you prefer to keep this between ourselves?"

"…For now," she said. "I'll probably tell Barton, but not yet. Don't let him fool you into telling him, either."

"I promise, Agent Romanov. Your secret is safe with me."

She returned to her introspection until slivers of dawn appeared. Time to exercise.

* * *

Audrey's soulmark never really faded, even when a new one formed. That's why it took her a few days to accept Phil's death; the mark was pale, but still there, at least if you studied it with a magnifying glass in a certain light and dried your eyes first.

It was a hell of a shock when she checked it again one night and saw the words as dark as before, like they'd never faded at all. There was no pain accompanying their formation, not like when she received her new mark.

'_You need to come with me_.'

Sounded like another SHIELD agent, to be honest. Could Audrey do that? Go with another SHIELD agent and forget what Phil meant to her? And what if, somehow, he was still alive? Maybe he'd been in intensive care at first, on the brink of death, but they revived him? Any day now, surely, they'd call to say that he was fine, that they were sorry about lying but they didn't want to get her hopes up.

If that was the case, why the speedy memorial service Fury had set up? No, there was _some_ kind of mistake. Or it was a cover-up. That had to be it! Audrey didn't know how many people had known they were soulmates, and if Phil had to go into witness protection surely they'd have sent her as well?

So she waited. And played with the orchestra. And waited some more.

No one ever called.

* * *

Phil had given Audrey an out by not revealing that he was still alive. Prolonged contact increased the risk to her, and he couldn't allow that. Plenty of people got by without their soulmates, and surely his death had wiped her soulmark off? Not from him, obviously, but then again it was up to him to make the first contact, and he had no intention of putting her in further danger.

So his original soulmark remained dark. It was the other soulmark which gave him additional pause. '_Explain yourself_.'

He'd known the Black Widow's writing anywhere.

Maybe he should've told Fury as soon as he noticed, but surely the director saw it himself? Either way, he was put on a different team. If he revealed himself to the Avengers now, it would only be fair to tell Audrey that he was alive, and she'd be at risk again from past enemies. Just because her stalker was behind bars in a SHIELD facility didn't mean that she wasn't…

Although Natasha Romanov would make an excellent bodyguard.

Phil shook his head, chastising himself for the thought. He'd known Natasha a long time, certainly found her aesthetically pleasing – who didn't? – but she never showed interest in having a relationship with anyone, long- or short-term. He was fond of her, yes, so it was reprehensible that he could consider 'arranging' for them to meet so that Audrey would be adequately protected when Phil revealed himself.

Hell, Natasha had more enemies than he did, most likely, which would put Audrey in even more danger.

So he kept his resurrection quiet. His soulmates could be used as leverage against him, and he couldn't be as impartial about them as he could be about his team. He didn't want to put Audrey in danger, and he didn't want Natasha ever to be in a position where she put her job ahead of her soulmates. She could carry that guilt to her grave, and she didn't deserve that.

As for Phil, he could only hope that they would all be retired from their respective jobs before they met.

* * *

_2015_

Natasha was attending the ballet for reconnaissance, not to enjoy herself. She could appreciate the skill and hard work of the dancers, the beauty of the music, but she could not ignore the threats inside the theatre. HYDRA agents, looking for Barnes.

More fool them. He was at the new Avengers base with Rogers and Wilson. With Barton back at the farm helping with the new baby (and continuing renovations) there was no one for Natasha to drag along with her. As soon as she heard about HYDRA agents looking for a man, she knew that it was important, and that they most likely had a trail on Barnes. When she followed them, however, she was led to a concert hall, and now she was wondering what their game was.

"I didn't realise she was in the _orchestra_!" one of the men hissed to another at interval. Natasha had changed her hairstyle again, dark on top and blonde underneath, and she was squinting at the name plate on a landscape. Weren't they after Barnes? A man, at least?

"And he isn't here," another said.

"We don't _need_ him to be here, we just need his soulmate as bait."

Natasha new that pretending to be short-sighted was a bit of a cheap trick, but it usually worked. She buried her face in the programme and looked at the orchestra list, hoping to pick out a familiar name. Portland Philharmonic…

Portland.

_Portland_?

There it was. Audrey Nathan. She sidled closer, heaving an aggravated sigh behind the programme before turning her back and peering at another painting. The HYDRA agents were still talking.

"Ward doesn't want Coulson to find out the danger in advance like last time," the first one said. "We grab the cellist when she's leaving afterwards, so she won't be missed until tomorrow. Go stake out the exits. Surveillance ain't gonna be enough if SHIELD finds us first."

The others grumbled as they left, and the first guy went to the restroom. Natasha knew that if they had surveillance outside, any outgoing messages might be detected, causing them to act early. Even a coded message might be suspicious, and Barton was too far away to be of any help. JARVIS might've been useful, but now that he was mostly gone Natasha had to get used to the new AI, and didn't want to rely on a virtual (on more than one level) stranger.

The simplest thing to do was swap seats with a woman who was more than happy with the better position, so much so that she didn't question Natasha's lame explanation of wanting to appreciate the performance from a different angle. The orchestra played for the curtain calls, and Natasha was out before the leads made it as far as the stage. She'd already looked up the escape plans of the theatre beforehand, and was easily able to find the orchestra.

Coulson once showed her and Barton a picture of the cellist, making it child's play to pick her out. Natasha waited in the shadows until Audrey had packed up, and then darted to her side.

"You need to come with me," she said without preamble. She swiftly hauled up the cello – it was heavier than she'd imagined – and steered Audrey from the obvious doors. The cellist moved around to Natasha's other side and tried to take the handle of the case.

"I recognise you from somewhere," she said. When the words hit Natasha, she nearly dropped the cello, saved by Audrey gripping the handle beside her. She met the woman's eyes and swallowed.

"Oh," she said.

"Maybe we should take this someplace else?" Audrey suggested. Natasha nodded, and insisted on carrying the cello.

"We need to hurry, because there are men after you," she said. "It's why I'm here."

"Did Phil send you?"

"He's alive?" Natasha asked sharply. "How did you find out?"

"His mark never disappeared," Audrey said. "It just faded for a few days. I _do_ know you from somewhere, don't I? The hair doesn't seem right, but—"

"I'm Natasha Romanov."

"…The _Black Widow_?" she hissed. "You're my soulmate?"

"At least you've confirmed my suspicion that Phil's alive, considering I never had any marks until yours appeared, and then his a few days after. I recognised the writing, but he never made contact."

"I'm not a hundred percent sure," Audrey said. "But the mark is clear. And when my stalker returned for me, I could've sworn Phil was there with SHIELD. I was knocked out, and I thought he spoke to me, but then he was gone before I reawakened properly."

"It seems he _is_ alive, if the conversation I overhead tonight is anything to go by," Natasha said.

"I wonder if he thought he was protecting me by staying away."

"Or both of us. Protecting _you_ from both of us." Natasha grimaced when Audrey gasped. "He didn't tell you anything of my history?"

"All I know is that you're an Avenger who once worked for SHIELD, and that you're our soulmate. That's good enough for me."

"Great." Natasha glanced left to right. "Now let's get out of here before the bad guys catch us, alright?"

"Are your plans usually this… detailed?" Audrey said, raising her eyebrows.

"Oh no," she said. "Sometimes I have to improvise."

* * *

Phil wasn't expecting the angry call from Barton. Or Rogers. Or Stark. Or Pepper. After all that, he _definitely_ expected an angry call from Romanov.

And he did. It just wasn't over the phone.

"What brings you here?" was all he had time for before Natasha slapped him across the face. He rubbed the aching spot as she glared at him.

"Explain yourself," she said.

So it _was_ her writing.

"It seemed safer," he said. "For all of us."

"Including me?" came a familiar voice. Phil looked around Natasha and took in Audrey's beloved face. He smiled, unable to help himself, and his cellist flew forward into his arms, smothering his face with kisses.

"Hi," he said, proud that he managed that much in a steady voice. He met Natasha's eyes. "I gather you two have met?"

"Saving her from HYDRA," she said. "Some guy named Ward… not _Grant_ Ward?"

"Yes."

"What?" Audrey said, trying to pull back. Phil wouldn't let her out of his arms.

"He turned out to be HYDRA," he said. "Now he's in charge of it. We thought we'd squashed them, but sometimes their motto seems a little too apt."

"HYDRA wanted to use her as bait," Romanov continued. "You're lucky I tailed them, thinking they were after Barnes."

"Thank you," Phil said. "Though you realise it was Fate, not luck, right?"

"I don't know how much I trust Fate," she said. Audrey turned her head, while still clinging onto Phil's jacket.

"We still haven't talked about the fact that we're soulmates," she said. Phil noticed Natasha's shoulders move a quarter of an inch down in a silent sigh.

"Do you think it's a good idea?" she asked.

"I lost my chance to bond with Phil once, and I'm not losing it again, if he'll have me," Audrey said.

"This life is dangerous—" he began.

"And look what happened when you _weren't_ around!" she said. "Now that people know I'm associated with you they'll keep coming after me. At least if we bonded you'd know where I was if I went missing. People don't die as a consequence of their soulmates dying, so don't try _that _excuse. Assign me a personal bodyguard if it makes you feel better!"

"Maybe that's what Fate intends me to be," Natasha said.

Phil remembered considering that himself, and found it hard to meet Natasha's eyes as Audrey protested loudly.

"At the very least she could teach you self-defence," Phil said, and Audrey quieted down. "I'd feel better knowing you were both as safe as could be. I find it hard to be objective when I truly care about someone, and I love both of you. I don't know what your plans are now, but if they include me then we should discuss this in my office before the rest of the Avengers fly in and physically assault me, too."

"They wouldn't dare," Audrey said firmly, and she threw herself into Phil's arms again. "Now show us to your office."

Phil slipped an arm around her waist, and then held his free hand out to Natasha.

"Coming with us?" he asked. She tilted her head, and then nodded, but chose not to take his hand. Phil heard Audrey's soft sigh of disappointment, but led them away without further comment. No matter what Natasha decided in regards to them, Phil had the woman he loved back in his embrace, and damned if he was letting HYDRA get their hands on her. On either of his soulmates.

* * *

**Protective!Phil is protective.**

**And if he gets together with Rosalind Price in 'Agents of SHIELD' I will be supremely pissed off, and possibly stop watching the show. I already think that Bobbi and Hunter's relationship borders on toxic at times, and we don't need another antagonistic-turned-romantic relationship on the show. It sends the wrong message, in my opinion, that hate/mistrust can lead to a satisfactory romantic partnership.**

**(Damn it, I really need to catch up on the latest episodes. Sigh. Please don't tell me any spoilers.)**

**Please review!**


	131. Not Mine to Claim (Bucky x Edwin Jarvis)

"Not Mine to Claim"

_Christmas Eve, 1990_

Assassins rarely knocked, but that was no excuse for slackness. Edwin Jarvis ensured that his bullet-proof vest sat comfortably, noticed that Tony was hard at work on a circuit-board between bites of dinner, and made for the side door of the house.

He missed Ana, even before her death. He'd released her from their marriage as soon as she found her soulmate, once they were sure she would not be ostracised from society due to some ridiculous double-standard. Now that he no longer had her to talk to over the phone, he was glad of Tony's company. Not quite the festive atmosphere Jarvis had expected, but it was better than that oily Stane, or the gradually increasing frostiness between Howard and Maria. Peggy seemed distracted lately as well, and he wondered why. The forty-fifth anniversary of Captain Rogers's plane going down had been a few months ago, and it was hardly the most significant anniversary. In another five years, perhaps, but this year?

He sighed, and smoothly opened the door. As Howard's son was staying, secret though it was, Jarvis should probably have increased his security measures. The masked man on the other side of the door even raised his eyebrows, as though to say 'Really? This is the best you could do?'

"It isn't much, but it's home," Jarvis said by way of explanation. The stranger fumbled his gun, drawing attention to it, and Jarvis tensed.

"I know those words," the man said. He had an accent, but it was hard to place.

"So do I," Jarvis whispered. He could hardly believe it. His soulmate _couldn't_ be the man here, obviously to kill Tony.

"Hey, what's going on?" Tony called from the dining room. The gunman snapped to attention, releasing the safety on his weapon. Jarvis moved in front of it.

"Stay there!" he snapped. To both of them, and he hoped they would both obey, though he knew better than to expect that of Tony.

"What's going on?"

"Stand aside," the gunman said. His voice shook slightly, and his creased forehead was a dead giveaway that he was frowning.

"You're my soulmate," Jarvis said.

"…Your what?"

"The other half of my soul. You said my words, and judging by your reaction I said yours. I can show you my handwriting, but not while you're pointing a gun at me."

"Is…" The gun lowered slightly. "Is that what they mean? I've seen `em before, but no one told me…"

Jarvis had no idea what had happened to this man, potentially his soulmate; either that, or someone had discovered Jarvis's words and were using them against him. Tony was his priority, however, and always would be while his parents weren't around.

"Put that away," he said, attempting to sound calm.

"What's a soulmate?"

"…Fate wants us to be together. As friends, or… more than that. We're connected on a spiritual level. That's what it means."

"Oh." The stranger's gun fell to his side, although he kept holding it.

"It's unnatural for soulmates to hurt each other," Jarvis continued. He could heard footsteps growing nearer, and prayed that Tony wasn't about to get into trouble.

"Oh."

"What is your name?"

"…I have no name."

"Do you know who I am?"

The stranger shook his head. "My instructions were to kill the boy."

"I'm twenty!" Tony piped up. Too damn close, possibly at the kitchen door.

"He's my son," Jarvis said. A desperate move, but necessary. He kept his body between the assassin and Tony's possible location. "You wouldn't hurt my son, would you? The son of your soulmate?"

"D-dad, what's going on?" Tony said. He definitely sounded closer this time, and was hopefully playing along. If Howard had silently and suddenly turned up, this was going to be awkward, and possibly quite bloody.

"Nothing, son," Jarvis said.

"Is he a friend of yours?" Tony moved closer, and the gunman's eyes caught on him. Jarvis again placed his body between them.

"Don't hurt my son, please," he said, and he risked touching his soulmate's left arm. It felt strangely hard, but it was covered, like the rest of the man.

"My instructions…" But he seemed unsure now. Jarvis stepped closer.

"Tony, leave us alone for a minute, would you?" he said.

"…Sure thing, Dad." Quiet footsteps retreated, and Jarvis cupped his soulmate's face.

"He's my son," he repeated. "Please don't hurt him. I couldn't bear it."

"N-no," the stranger said, his blue eyes roaming over Jarvis's face. "Course not."

"Can I help you in any way? Get you away from the people controlling you?" He brought their faces closer together. "If you're in a bad situation, I will do everything I can to get you out of it."

He was only mildly surprised by the kiss. It was swift, barely a second's pressure, and then the gunman was disappearing into the night. Jarvis stared until he was completely out of sight, and then closed the door. He found Tony curled up on the couch in the living room, and stood beside the arm of the chair. He ruffled his charge's hair, and was shocked by the tears he noticed on the boy's cheeks.

"Master Stark?" he said. He'd only broken the habit out of necessity. Tony sniffled and rubbed off his tears.

"You defended me," he mumbled.

"Of course," Jarvis said.

"You didn't have to."

"I did. I've known you since before you were born, Master Stark. It is my duty to _you_, not to your father, that compels me to protect you."

"_He_ wouldn't," Tony said.

Jarvis knew better than to start this argument, and contented himself with continuing to stroke Tony's hair.

"Any man would be lucky to have a son as brilliant and inherently good as you are," he said. It was the utter truth. Ordinarily, being British would have prevented him from speaking so candidly about his warm, paternal feelings to his employer's son, but these were special circumstances. "I hope you did not mind me borrowing the title of your father this evening."

"Not saying I minded," Tony said. "But why did you? I thought that guy came here to kill me."

"He came here to harm you, yes."

"And claiming me as your son stopped him?"

Jarvis hesitated, before choosing to disclose the truth. "He is my soulmate."

"…Your soulmate?"

"We appeared to have said each other's words. Perhaps I am not meant to have a true soulmate?" He allowed his hand to drop from Tony's messier hair. "This was only to keep you safe? Fate must have great plans for you."

Tony snorted, and sank back into the cushions. "Yeah, right. But… thanks, J. I'm lucky to have you."

Jarvis simply smiled, feeling as though he could burst with pride and joy.

* * *

_Christmas Eve, 2015_

Bucky awoke with a shout. He couldn't get used to waking up in a warm bed, even in a sleeping bag on the floor like Sam suggested. But for once his nightmares had revealed real memories. He was _sure_ they were real, and thumbed the area on his waist where he once had a soulmark.

'_It isn't much, but it's home_.'

Tony Stark had barely spoken to him when they first met, and Bucky knew why; none of them really knew who was responsible for the deaths of Howard and Maria Stark, but Bucky was a strong suspect, and his unreliable memory didn't allow for him to work out whether he was the guilty party or not.

Now he knew that it was both.

"Is Stark awake?" he asked, stumbling to his feet.

"Sir is in his workshop at Stark Tower," FRIDAY said. "He's busy."

"I didn't kill his parents," Bucky said, and he perched on the edge of his bed.

"Do you want me to tell him, sir?"

"I wanna talk to him about something important."

"I'll see if Sir is available to talk."

During the ensuing pause, Bucky pulled his pyjamas back into place. When Stark appeared on the screen, it startled Bucky once again how closely he resembled Howard. A testament to how much HYDRA had screwed him up.

"What is it?" Stark asked tersely.

"I didn't kill your parents," Bucky said. Stark blinked a few times, and then sighed.

"That's what this is about?" he said.

"But I think I was responsible."

"Okay, I'm hallucinating this because I've been working too much. FRIDAY, close down the projects I've been working on. Save them first."

"Yes, sir."

"Hold on a second!" Bucky said before Stark could end their conversation. "I'm bein' serious. I… I recalled somethin' during the night. Do you remember one Christmas… I don't know how many years ago, but you were only a kid or something, and… and a masked assassin came to the door?"

"You'd be surprised how often that happened."

Shaking that off, Bucky continued. "Your dad answered the door… but it wasn't Howard. He just said he was your dad." Stark froze in place, staring at Bucky.

"Twenty-five years ago. That was you. You're… you were Jarvis's soulmate."

"The… Vision?"

"No, the original Jarvis, Edwin Jarvis. FRIDAY, show him a snap from about Christmas nineteen-ninty."

FRIDAY produced an image, the same man from the dream. He was standing there with Tony in front of a small Christmas tree, wrapping paper strewn over the floor.

"It was just the two of us that year," Stark said. "I both hated and loved that Christmas. The last one my parents were alive and I didn't spend it with them… but Jarvis treated me like I was his son. He never had any kids – his wife left when she found her soulmate – and he claimed me as his son to protect me from you."

"I told HYDRA," Bucky said. "When I got back I had to explain why I hadn't killed you. I told `em I wasn't gonna kill the son of my soulmate. They must've took it to mean that I'd found you with Howard, and… and they arranged for someone else to murder your parents. It wasn't me, but it was my fault for failing my mission, telling them why… it _was_ my fault your parents got killed, but I didn't pull the trigger that time. It happened because I didn't take you out like they wanted me to."

"You're Jarvis's soulmate. This explains why you didn't come back to us for help."

"Where…" Bucky swallowed. "Where is he?"

"He's dead."

"I _know_ that. My soulmark's gone. I just wanna… visit him."

Stark sighed. "Get some sleep. I'll take you to see the grave tomorrow… later today, actually, going by the clock. I'll pick you up at ten."

Bucky nodded, and the screen went dark. He lay back down and curled under his blankets, pulling them tight around him. He tried to pretend that someone was cradling him from behind, tried to remember the older man he'd met. He'd stood up to the Winter Soldier and claimed Stark as his son to protect him from the enemy.

A tear slipped down the side of his nose, tickling him as it went.

* * *

Due to medical advances, foreign aid, and a lack of World Wars since the forties, Fate was always busy creating new souls and soulbonds. She didn't create life – living beings were good enough at that, some much too prolific – but she did create potential links between people. She was responsible for determining who should be paired, usually in consultation with other divine beings if they had plans for major upcoming events; but her favourite was pairing the unhappy people with those who could make them happy.

She'd been responsible for Cinderella situations, yes, but there was only so much she could do. Her souls would know when they were bonded forever, and they would be rejoined after death. There were cases where she'd been busy and the bonds weren't _quite_ right, and cases where the purity of a couple's souls needed to be sent back to Earth to cleanse other bonds simply through their proximity.

But all too often the burgeoning population meant that she lost track of the missed opportunities. Contrary to popular belief, she didn't control every pairing, nor did she choose the words soulmates would speak to each other. She didn't control when they were sent out. She was the ultimate creator, _not_ an administrator! And she wasn't there to witness every meeting, or she'd never get any work done.

"These two never seem to catch a break, in any lifetime," one of her underlings said, plonking a file on her desk. Fate was between creations – on her lunch break, in fact – so she looked over the file. And no, she didn't remember every soul she made. But she frowned as she read the information, and then slammed the file shut.

"Prepare my chariot," she said frostily. The administrator scurried out, and Fate strode to the door. She grabbed a coat – the Northern hemisphere was in winter – and slipped her feet into boots. Once she was wrapped up, she headed out to her chariot, invisible to mortals until she wished it otherwise. She climbed into the driver's seat, flicked the reins, and took off.

It was rare that she had to step in and personally fix something, and she was going to need some help with this one. Souls weren't returned to her unless they were never bonded, and then they waited in hold until they could be sent out for another try after their match's host body also died. In this case, one body was dead, and the other was still alive after a quarter of a century. Something had preserved it, and that particular man was still needed, so he couldn't be taken yet.

The worst of it was that these two souls had been in circulation for four hundred and sixty-three years. A personal record, one which Fate did _not_ want. She stopped the chariot at the holds, grabbed the soul most recently belonging to Edwin Jarvis – how lonely it felt – and stored it carefully in the pocket of her coat.

One more stop. If HYDRA had not caused the events leading to James Barnes and Steve Rogers disappearing for decades, Barnes and Jarvis would have met after the mission where Barnes died. So she needed to organise a new body, at the age he _should_ have been when they met.

Time for them to have a second chance.

* * *

It was cold in the snow, but Bucky didn't care, even as his knees protested. They'd turn numb soon enough.

He reached out with one gloved hand and swept away the snow covering his soulmate's name. He traced each engraved letter, ignoring the prickly feeling where his soulmark had been. It was just the cold, and the pain of regret. That was all.

"I'm sorry," Stark said.

"Me too, Bucky," Steve said, squeezing Bucky's shoulder.

"Feel so empty," he said. "Only got one kiss… one _chance_, and I lost it."

"HYDRA stole it from you, you mean."

"Practically the same thing."

"I'll dig out everything I've got left of Jarvis," Stark said. "Should've gone to you, if only…"

"If only," Bucky echoed. "Thanks. It's the closest I'll ever get. Maybe in another lifetime I'll get a chance. If I ever die in _this_ one."

"You don't have a new soulmark?" Steve asked.

"Nowhere visible. This is where… _his_ was." He tugged up his shirt, exposing his torso to the frigid air as he stood and turned. But he froze when he saw the words there. Different ones, but the same writing as before. Stark inhaled sharply, and Bucky's gaze fixed over their shoulders at an approaching sleigh. A woman was driving, and there was a man sitting beside her, wrapped up in warm clothes and half bent over in the cold.

"Bucky?" Steve said.

"That's his handwriting," Stark said, his eyes still on Bucky's mark.

"Look," Bucky said, pointing past them. They both turned as well. The sleigh pulled to a stop, the woman blocking their sight.

"James Barnes," she said.

"I'm pretty sure sleds aren't allowed in the cemetery," Stark said. Steve elbowed him.

"That's me," Bucky said, stepping forward. "Who're you?"

"Fate," she said. "HYDRA has interfered in my work for the _last time_, I swear to the divine ones. We can't do much personally, but this one has the information you need to bring your enemies down. It can wait a few days, though." She stepped down from the sleigh, and held out her hand. The man hopped out, one hand in hers and the other clutching the front of the sleigh. When he straightened up he looked straight at the trio.

"Jarvis?" Stark said.

"Master Tony," he said, and then his eyes met Bucky's. "Hello, again."

"This can't be real," Bucky said. Those were the words on his waist, sure, but how could a dead man really be alive again? It wasn't even a fresh death, and he hadn't been in cryo-preservation like Bucky. His body was in the grave they were standing beside, damn it! Or at least… the grave that was slowly disappearing into thin air.

"It's real," Fate said, sounding terse. "Please get on and bond as soon as possible. Those two souls have waited long enough." She swung back up into the sleigh and summoned the reins. "I don't want to have to intercede again on your behalf. Happy Christmas for tomorrow. Edwin Jarvis, remember what I have told you."

She left before any of them could speak again. Bucky stayed where he was, unsure whether he'd really be welcome yet. Stark had no qualms in walking up to Barnes and embracing him. Steve stood beside Bucky and nudged him in the back.

"Go on," he said. "You heard the lady."

"That was _Fate_."

"Apparently. And apparently Jarvis is real. Tony is touching him, see?"

"I see." No, he didn't feel jealous. Not really. "They're old friends."

"And you're his _soulmate_, Buck. Go on. He's waiting for you."

Stark backed off, and Jarvis… Edwin? He was standing where Fate left him, watching Bucky but making no move towards him. Bucky hesitantly took a step forward, and when his soulmate smiled, he jogged the rest of the way, halting half a foot away from him.

"I'm so sorry I didn't help you," Jarvis-or-Edwin said.

"No one could've helped me then," Bucky said. "Don't blame yourself." He hardly dared touch his soulmate, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

"But I'm here now."

"Yeah… What d'you want me to call you? Calling you by your last name seems wrong, but if you hate your first name—"

He smiled. "_You_ can call me Edwin. I don't mind."

"Edwin." He touched the lapels of the coat, ran his hands down behind them and over his soulmate's chest. Edwin. "I wanna kiss you now—"

This time, he was interrupted by a mouth covering his. He wound his arms around the back of Edwin's neck, shivering as cold hands landed on his waist and tugged him closer. But the shock proved this was real. His soulmate was here, and it _wasn't_ a dream. It couldn't be.

"Let's get you indoors," Steve said loudly, pulling them apart by the ears. "You'll catch your death out here, and I don't think Fate would be pleased about that."

"Yeah, let's go," Stark said. "On the way Jarvis can give us any information he has on HYDRA. When we get back to the tower, Barnes can take him up to his floor. Should I even bother designing separate living quarters for you, Jarvis?"

Edwin looked at him, and Bucky shook his head.

"No," Edwin said.

"I've got a spare room anyhow," Bucky added. "He can stay there `til he's ready."

"Until we're _both_ ready," he said, and he squeezed Bucky's hand.

"Yeah." Bucky grinned, and leaned against his soulmate's side as they walked towards the car.

* * *

**Surprise appearance from Fate! Kind of didn't mean for that to happen, except maybe in the very final chapter (whenever that will be), but intervention was necessary for a happy ending.**

**Also, I'm not going to list who's requested the pairings covered anymore, because I've missed noting the names for some of them, and it's not fair if I forget to mention the ones I do have noted down.**

**Please review!**


	132. A Good Mechanic (Sam x Tony)

**Note: Damn it, the 'Civil War' trailer has given me all of these FEELS, and I needed to express them in a pairing I hadn't really considered, surprisingly enough. It kind of makes sense, with the wing thing, and I don't remember seeing Sam and Tony interact in 'Age of Ultron', so that's a good enough reason to write them. I've written more obscure pairings before, let's be honest.**

"A Good Mechanic"

Sam Wilson loved his wings. He _really_ loved his wings, no matter how many upgrades they got, because they took him to the sky. And he didn't mind it too much when they took a beating, because it took him one step closer to his soulmate. He couldn't regret joining para-rescue; and even though his heart broke when he lost Riley, what could've been, he knew that waiting for his soulmate would be worth it in the end.

Belonging to the Avengers was a dream come true. Sam hadn't met all of them yet, at least not officially, and Steve and Tony Stark were on the outs, which meant that the billionaire was back at his tower. Repairing it after the mess called Ultron.

After a hard day of talking to PTSD survivors and finding another dead end in his search for Bucky Barnes, the last thing Sam needed was his wings malfunctioning on a test flight. Stark had sent new ones when Sam wasn't able to make it to Sokovia to help out. His excuse had been that he was searching for Barnes; the reality was that he didn't trust his own maintenance, and looking at the ragged wing he'd recovered after fighting HYDRA… well, he didn't feel the same about it.

The set of wings he'd been sent were still in their packaging, had been there God knows how long, but Sam was just grateful that they looked to be in working order.

"Let's go, babies," he said, and he jumped off the top of the base, aiming for the big mark on the ground where Thor had disappeared from. The wings worked well enough… until they decided they'd been cooped up for too long, and the battery started to die. Sam was lucky the emergency parachute still worked, otherwise he'd have ended up an unattractive splatter on the lawn.

With a sigh, he bundled the wings in his arms as best he could, trying not to cut himself on the metal 'feathers', and carted them down to the garage. Steve's motorbike was there, as well as a skeleton maintenance crew for the other vehicles (no one touched Steve's baby). It was late evening, and Sam figured that even if no one else was around, he could find a safe place to leave the wings, with a sticky note _politely_ requesting repairs.

Seemed like he wouldn't need to, though. Because those were definitely noises he could hear, someone working with metal.

"Hey, do you know anything about mechanical engineering?" he called, walking around workbenches and trying to find the source of the noise. It ceased immediately, and he wondered whether…

"If you need a mechanic, just say so," came the grouchy reply. Sam nearly dropped his wings, because he was pretty sure he recognised that voice. He dumped the broken wing-pack on a bench, and Tony Stark rolled out from beneath a vintage car.

"Oh," he said. "I didn't think… it'd be _you_."

"Who else do you think I'd trust with repair jobs?" Stark said. He stood up and wiped his oily hands on a rag.

"I didn't mean with that," Sam said. "You said…" He started to wonder whether it was just a coincidence. Hell, Stark probably knew everything about them, soulmarks included, and was just waiting for an opportunity to have some fun.

"We were never properly introduced," Stark said, which didn't make Sam feel any less wary. "Hi." He held out his hand. "I'm Tony Stark, and I think there's been a mix-up of sorts. In fact, I _know_ there has, and it wasn't entirely my fault."

Now Sam was confused.

"Mix-up?" he said.

"With the wings."

That was a relief. "Really?"

"I dug out the remainder of the EXOs," Stark said. "There weren't all that many left. I went through about half of them before I found one which wouldn't require much fixing. Thought I'd marked that one to be sent out to you, but instead it was one of the packs I never got around to checking out. I presume the battery power was reduced? Judging by…" His gesture took in the whole messy remainder.

"Yeah," Sam said, relieved that at least Stark hadn't been trying to kill him.

"Once I realised the mistake I came by here. I had a suit waiting, in case your parachute didn't deploy." He shrugged, and smiled. "_But_ we hadn't met yet, so I knew you weren't going to die. So I figured I'd wait down here for you. Judging by my words, I thought there was a seventy-thirty chance you'd speak first."

"You _knew_?"

"I recognised your writing from the agreement you signed," he said. "That's why I've been avoiding you. I wanted… to make sure it would happen right. Pretty stupid question for someone as famous as me." He rolled up his left shirt sleeve, and Sam saw the infamous soulmark-hiding band which could only be activated by Stark. It was standard for the children of famous people, to keep their soulmarks private. He must have had it made as soon as Sam was born. Now he deactivated it, and ambled closer to Sam as he slid the band off. Just underneath his upper arm were the words 'Hey, do you know anything about mechanical engineering?' in Sam's handwriting.

"I see what you mean," he said.

"Well, I've shown you mine," Star— Tony said, dropping his vocal register. Sam hesitated, and then tugged off his flannel shirt and moved the right strap of his undershirt out of the way. Scrawled in writing he knew as well as his own, the mark which influenced his career path, was 'If you need a mechanic, just say so'. He'd learnt many different names for 'mechanic'.

"Really didn't know who to expect," he said, unable to suppress a shiver as Tony rubbed his thumb over the words.

"To think I've manufactured bombs which may've killed your friends…"

"We all knew what we were getting into, and you weren't responsible for where all of them went," Sam said. He knew the story.

"I still can't stop thinking about all the people I've let down," Tony said, his voice dropping further. Sam wanted to hug him, but he wasn't sure how welcome that would be when they'd only just met. "It keeps me up at night."

"We all have regrets," he said. "You've done a whole lot of good to counteract the bad, though, and that's more than a lot of people can say. From what I hear, you could use someone to talk to. And now that Banner's…"

"Skipped town; you can say it. Romanov isn't here."

"_I'm_ here," Sam said. "As a team-mate, as a counsellor… as your soulmate, if you want that. Platonic or otherwise. You and Miss Potts…"

"I need to think about it," Tony said. Sam bit his tongue to stop himself from pointing out that Tony had had plenty of time to think about it. Months, going by what he'd said. "Seeing the words on you has made it all too real. I could be asleep right now, or hallucinating."

"Know how you can check to see whether or not I'm a hallucination?" Sam said. He couldn't help himself. Nor, apparently, could Tony.

"I've got a pretty good idea," he said. He cupped the back of Sam's head and tugged him in for a kiss. The scratch of a beard against Sam's own stubble was definitely real, and so was the body pressed against his.

They didn't break apart until Sam felt something sharp against his back, and realised that Tony had backed him up against a tool-covered bench. It was only a screwdriver, thank God, and as Sam knocked it gently out of the way they both noticed the wings.

"Shit, I forgot that," Tony said. "I'll get the right ones to you ASAP. I've made some modifications we'll have to go over, but they're at full battery, fourteen percent lighter, with improved aerodynamics, and I can track them through the suit so that I never lose you."

"You won't lose me, Tony," Sam said. Tony's face brightened.

"Say my name again?" he said.

"You know, you missed the perfect opportunity there for a remark about making me scream it later."

Tony gave him an unimpressed look. "Trying to be romantic here."

"Ah. So you _didn't_ need all that long to think about this," Sam said.

"…Well, my parents weren't exactly shining examples of a soulmate relationship," he eventually said. "I don't wanna leap into this too fast. I almost had something with Pepper, and I'm pretty sure it's because we took things slow. But I got impatient, which is why I arranged for us to meet. Here, so I'm not someplace which reminds me of her. She knows I've found my soulmate, but not that it's you. Not yet."

"Uh-huh." Sam didn't like the direction this conversation was headed, but he knew that everyone had issues. Whether Tony was telling the truth or whether it was just a cover, Sam would respect it, and wait him out. "I'm gonna go back to my room now. Call me when you know what you want to do, okay? No hurry. I'd prefer you to be comfortable in doing what you _know_ is right, than to be uncomfortable by moving too quickly. I've waited this long."

"Okay," Tony said. Subdued, but hopefully he'd taken it all on board.

"Good night," Sam said.

"Night."

* * *

It wasn't long after that that everything went downhill.

* * *

Sam couldn't regret letting Tony set the pace. He'd heard of people rushing to bond, only to find that while they _thought_ they were ready for it, their bodies weren't, and the bonding was either screwed up or didn't take place. It could split people apart, especially those rash enough to leap into bonding like it was something they didn't need to be prepared for. Emotionally, as well as physically.

But when it came down to choosing between Tony and Steve?

"Look, I know he's your soulmate, but you have to do what you think is right," Steve said. He was trying to escape the government's notice, and going to the VA centre was pretty smart. If the government followed him there, they'd have to acknowledge the neglect of veterans, and then they'd have to do something about it. It might even taken the heat off Steve and the registration act for awhile.

"There are arguments on both sides," Sam said diplomatically, waving as another member of the group left the room. "Tony and I… we're not bonded yet, and we haven't discussed the registration act yet. Since we're not bonded, even dating or living together, I can't justify including him in my decisions. I _do_ have to take it into consideration, but that's because we're supposed to be a team. Not much of a one since Ultron, but… damn it, _Clint and Natasha_ are on different sides of the issue!"

"This is about people's privacy, a right to secret identities," Steve said. "They're calling us weapons. Vigilantes!"

"They're not wrong about the vigilante part," Sam said. "Those of you who aren't regular humans, who have super powers… you're different. You can't necessarily help that, but take away my wings, what am I?" Steve flinched. "I know I can kick ass without them, but anyone with the right training could take my place."

"How does this tie into whatever point you're trying to make?" Steve asked.

"Have you considered all your options? Because people who shoot at you usually wind up shooting at me, too." He smiled, trying to give some lightness to the dark words, but Steve scowled harder.

"That's exactly _my _point," he hissed. "Know why Clint's on our side? Because the registration takes away privacy. Because he has a wife and kids. They may seem safe at the moment, but one hint of information about them and they're dead. It's a damn good thing _SHIELD _didn't have anything on `em. They provided a safe place for us when Tony and Bruce unleashed Ultron, and everyone seems to be forgetting that!"

"There's accountability, Steve. People look for someone to blame when there's destruction."

"There have to be ways around that."

"Yeah, but you're not sitting down and trying to work out alternatives. You're being impetuous, _as usual_. It explains an awful lot of what Bucky's told me about when you were kids. The phrase 'I can do this all day' mean anything to you?"

Steve's face softened at the mention of his best friend. Sam suspected that they were soulmates, but neither of them had mentioned it, so he kept quiet.

"Tony's being stubborn," he said.

"And you're not?"

"He… he said we were friends."

Sam shrugged. "You can have lots of friends, Steve. You're a friendly guy. Tony has friends, too, but I think he finds it harder to trust them."

"You _think_?"

"What? It's not like I spend all that much time with the guy, especially now that he turns out to be involved in this act." He frowned. "I got the impression he hated General Ross, for stalking Banner?"

"Jesus, someone's gotta think about Bruce," Steve said, running his hands through his hair. "Wish I knew where he was. I hope he keeps up with the news."

"You're dead set against the superhero registration act, aren't you?" Sam said.

"Of course."

He sighed. "Thought so. Good thing there's an election coming up; it takes long enough getting acts passed, and the election should push it further to the back of the queue."

"Are you _kidding_?" Steve said, straightening. "This country runs on money. Tony… _Stark_ has plenty of it, and influence, too. So does Ross, damn him, and they're gonna see this through the minute they see an opening. I'm not sticking around to watch my _real_ friends end up in danger because money is put before the safety of the world. I'll help who I can get out of the United States, because… this isn't what I fought for during the war. This isn't what I almost gave my life for. Privacy… my life can never be private; there've been books written about me, articles, movies and TV shows made. But newcomers like… like Ant-Man. They need protection. Their _families_ need protection that exposure like the registration act would take away. And I _know_ that if I tried to sit down with someone and come up with ways around this it would only end in arguments. That's all it has done so far. You think I'm not being reasonable? Well, if no one else is willing to compromise then why _should_ I be?"

"Steve—"

"I'll always consider you my friend, Sam. Whether you remain neutral or… or join Tony's side. Whether it's `cause you're his soulmate or because you agree with the act, you'll still be my friend. I don't wanna see you get hurt. I…" He swallowed visibly. "I don't wanna see _anybody_ get hurt. That's why I became Captain America, to protect people from the bullies of the world. I became Captain America again to protect people from the bullies _outside_ of the world. If the world doesn't want my help, that's fine; I'll be there when I'm needed anyway. But not in America. I won't be Captain America anymore. Maybe South America, if I relocate south of the border." He tilted his head, smiling bitterly. "They wanna jail Bucky for stuff he never meant to do; did you know that? He was only HYDRA's weapon. You don't see them putting restrictions on guns, but…"

"Hey." Sam touched his shoulder. "I get what you're saying, man. I do. And I'm on your side. This whole thing is a damn mess. Intelligent men – and women – have got mixed up in a debate which shouldn't be happening, and innocent people like Barnes and Clint are paying for it. If you need help, I've got your back. But I also have to think about the people here who need me." He gestured to the room, now empty except for the two of them. "I can't turn my back on my work."

"No," Steve said hollowly. "I know that, and I'm sorry. I shouldn't be laying any of this on you. I'm sorry I ever got you caught up in the superhero life; you're meant for better things."

"Found my soulmate through it."

"And how's that going? Shit, I'm sorry, Sam. That was… that was outta line."

"Look." Sam leaned against the wall. "Get out of DC. Get out of the United States, and take Bucky with you, and anyone else you can. I'll try to mediate while you lie low. Maybe Tony will listen to me; maybe he won't. But it's better for you to get away before you destroy anything resembling friendship between the two of you, because if another threat to the safety of the world comes, and we can't all work together effectively to fight it, then this'll all be academic."

Steve paused, and then nodded slowly. He tugged Sam into a quick hug.

"I'll call you," he said.

"You better, Rogers. Don't make me track down your lily white ass if you don't stay in touch."

Steve laughed. He seemed lighter than when he'd first come in. He pulled up his hood and sneaked out again, although Sam really thought the guy needed lessons in disguises. Seriously, how did SHIELD get away with being covert for so long?

On the way home, he got a message, and pulled over to check his phone.

**You &amp; Rogers have a nice chat?**

"Tony," Sam muttered, eyebrows drawing down. He replied, **You need to work on your people skills.**

**Because I can't hold onto my friends?**

He would have to answer that one carefully, without taking too long. God knows the billionaire was sensitive enough.

**Because you seem to assume the worst of your SOULMATE pretty damn quickly.**

There was a long pause, long enough that he felt it was safe enough to start driving again. He was almost home when there was more beeping. He grumbled as he pulled to the curb, and went to access the message.

The sound of glass shattering distracted him. Smoke filled the car, and Sam wasn't able to undo the car door in time before he lost consciousness.

* * *

Tony grew antsy as he waited for a reply. He'd sent another message, which Sam had accessed, and sent another while he was waiting, which _wasn't_ accessed. That should've been enough of an answer, but maybe Sam was trying to let him down tactfully? Tony had hacked the VA centre's CCTV as soon as he found out that his soulmate worked there, and today he'd seen Rogers and Sam talking. It ended with a hug which went on far too long, and he couldn't bear to watch after that.

After sulking for several minutes, he'd texted his soulmate. But now it seemed that Sam was ignoring him. Weird that he read one message but not the next. Still, Tony wasn't going to keep bugging him, not with a message this clear.

He should've pushed for a bond. He should've spent more time with Sam, gotten to know him, wined and dined and spoiled him, and then took him to bed and… and maybe bonded. Instead he'd tried to figure things out, procrastinated in a way Starks never procrastinated, and now he'd not only lost his chance for the fairytale happy ending, he'd lost it to Steve Apple Pie Rogers and his murderous best buddy. Sam would be on their side, and Tony would be alone. Again.

Damn it, he needed Rhodey. Or Pepper. But with Rhodey in the hospital, Pepper rarely leaving his side, and Happy always guarding her, plus Bruce on the run… it felt lonely. Sure, Howard and Maria weren't the best examples, but they tried. He didn't notice at the time, but they'd really tried, and not just for each other.

Another quarter hour passed, and then he got a call from the person he least expected.

No. Seriously. Santa Claus would be more likely to call, and Tony hadn't believed in him since… ever.

"What is it, Rogers?" he growled.

"I hope you're happy with yourself, Stark!"

"What _now_?"

"Sam's been kidnapped! I don't know whether it's because he's the Falcon, or his connection to me, or whether someone knows his connection to _you_, but he's gone. No note, just a car with a near-empty smoke bomb and a cell phone left behind."

Tony had trouble comprehending this.

"Sam's gone?" he said. "Sam Wilson?"

"Yes, you asshole! Your soulmate is gone. Now, if he was just a civilian, and you were the only superhero he knew, and this same thing happened, who'd be to blame? Do you really want this kind of thing as a consequence?"

"Rogers, people have to be accountable…" But Tony couldn't finish that sentence. His mind was racing. _This_ was why Sam didn't read the message. And hell, he was responsible enough to pull over to check; he'd chewed out the rest of them before for reckless driving. Was it because he was checking Tony's message that he'd stopped the car?

"There isn't a registry for villains," Rogers said. "Until all bad guys and their secret identities are registered, I'm not doing the same. They're the reason the damage to public property happens in the first place. I don't _like_ breaking cars or windows or bringing down parts of buildings, it's nothing something I do for fun; but if it keeps someone from taking over the world I'll do it. Unless the _real_ culprits are held to account, I don't see why the hell the Earth's defenders should have to pay. When did humans become such ungrateful bastards? No, you know what? Screw you. While you're sitting on your piles of money, Buck and I are tracking down Sam, and if he's still alive then we're gonna keep him safer than you obviously can." There was some muffled talking in the background, while Tony ran to the elevator. "Goodbye, Stark. I hope Sam gets a new soulmark, because he deserves a hell of a lot better than you."

Tony didn't have a chance to retort before Rogers hung up. He glanced at the ceiling.

"I need to suit up, FRIDAY," he said.

"Of course, sir. Already inputting the direct destination to Mr. Wilson's phone chip."

"It's a starting point, I guess."

The only one he had.

* * *

"Wake up!"

Sam was glad that at least the room was dimly lit; it didn't take much for his eyes to adjust. He struggled to a sitting position, and realised his hands were tied behind his back. At least he avoided a kick to the ribs.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"That doesn't matter," his captor – one of them, he presumed – said. "What matters is getting your soulmate here."

"Wha… how'd you know?"

"Tony Stark was overheard telling Pepper Potts at the hospital two days ago," the man elaborated. "Didn't take long to track you down after that, especially when you were seen talking to Steve Rogers."

"This isn't because…"

"Because what?"

"Never mind."

"No, please tell me. I'm _extremely_ interested."

Sam had maybe picked up some bad habits from Steve. "If you don't know, I'm not gonna tell you."

"There aren't all that many Sam Wilsons who've been spotted around Stark Tower before," the man said. "In fact, you're the only one. We checked out your soulmark while you were asleep, by the way, and it matches the writing of Stark's usual autograph. We've waited a long time to find you, and now here you are."

So apparently they didn't know he was an Avenger. Nothing to do with the superhero registration act, at least, which was kind of a relief. It still proved Steve's point… which sucked. Sam really wanted to think the best of his soulmate, see his side of the debate. But Sam fought to keep the world a bit safer, and while he hated the fact that vets were largely ignored nowadays, the act wasn't a way to make sure that the good guys received credit. It was to make sure they'd pay for their actions in helping humankind. Like spitting in the fact of the paramedic who's just saved your life.

What about people who swerved their cars into trees to avoid hitting a child or animal in the middle of the road? Or innocent people who ended up in genuine trouble because they had an unexpected health problem that compromised their safety? Poor people who did good things and didn't get the support they needed, and sometimes had to pay more than they could afford because of some stupid loophole in the law?

There was no way he could agree with the act, just as there was no way he could be in favour of people not cleaning up after themselves. But if Steve died in the middle of a fight, or if Tony had died flying that nuke into space, would people have demanded that they pay for damages out of their estates?

What if paying for damages afterwards bankrupted a hero or heroine? Where was the justice in that? There _was_ no justice in that, and it drove Sam nuts. Tony had never known poverty. Sure, he'd faced horrors most people never would, but he'd still had a good life in other respects. He didn't know how to relate to people who had no material goods and kept going in spite of it.

Why were they soulmated to each other? Sure, Sam had always had a roof over his head, but he worked with people who had nothing, or next to nothing. Tony threw money at charities, but he didn't go down among the people and learn about them. He cooped himself up, using his genius to improve the lives of people who could afford his tech and make himself more money, while there were people without even a tenth of his brains who never got a fair shot.

Honestly, discharging people from the army was almost as cruel as keeping them.

"Hey! You listening to me?"

"Not really," Sam said. "Sorry, my bad. I'm a counsellor; I should've been paying attention. I'm sure you have some extremely reasonable grievances. Tell me, and I'll see if I can help."

"Yeah, we got grievances. _No money_ kind of grievances."

"I'm stuck with capitalists? Oh, joy."

The kick he got for that nearly broke his kneecap. Sam bit down on his tongue to hold in a cry, and breathed through the pain, trying to work the ropes off his wrists to distract himself.

"You're gonna call your soulmate for us and—"

He never found out what he was supposed to do, because the Winter Soldier burst in and took down the guy.

"The others are dealt with," he said, and he called over his shoulder. "Steve! He's in here!"

"Help me out, would ya?" Sam said, twisting so Bucky could see his restraints. They were swiftly removed, and then Bucky helped him stand. It hurt like a bitch, but Sam'd been through worse before. He was more pissed off that he'd had to be rescued. "How long was I out?"

"Steve said he saw you about an hour ago."

"That was fast."

"Should've been faster, but we didn't know you'd gone missing until you didn't even read Steve's message. Pretty cool that you can tell when a person's read a message from you, right?"

"And convenient."

"Anyway, he chewed out Stark over the phone—"

"Tony knows I'm gone?"

Bucky nodded. "Steve's old-fashioned like that; he thought your soulmate should know you were in trouble. I guess he also hoped that Stark would know if you… if you…"

"Were dead," Sam said. "My mark on him would fade."

"But you're alive, and we're getting you out of America. Steve's not leaving you behind for this to happen again."

"I'll be more careful—"

"Not gonna cut it," Steve said, joining them out of nowhere. There was blood on his cheek. "Let's go. Hawkeye brought a ride for us. And Nick Fury."

"Is he gonna throw me in jail?" Bucky asked, eventually swinging Sam into his arms and scaring the hell out of him. "Sorry, but this is faster."

"I doubt it," Steve said. "Barton would've kicked him out at a high altitude if he thought that's why Fury wanted to see us, and he's known the man a long time."

"If you say so."

"They didn't know I was the Falcon," Sam said as they hurried out the back of the building towards a `jet. "They knew I was Tony's soulmate. Seeing you talking to me today confirmed that I was the Sam Wilson they were after."

Steve's jaw clenched, and he didn't reply. Bucky helped Sam strap in, and they were soon taking off, headed God knows where.

He hoped they'd get there.

"I just sent a message to Stark, telling him you're safe," Fury said.

"Where'd you rustle this rig from?" Steve asked. "Same place as the helicarrier?"

"Got it in one, captain. Or should I say Mr. Rogers?"

Steve sighed through his nose. "So. Where are we going?"

"To a SHIELD base. It's secure, currently being used by New SHIELD."

"Maybe we need a New Avengers?" Clint remarked from the cockpit. "We could collaborate with New SHIELD, if they're on our side."

"Oh, you won't have any problem with that," Fury said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "I probably would've remained neutral, or tried to, but the director of New SHIELD… he's gonna be on your side no matter what. It's on the cards."

There must've been something significant about that, because there was only half a minute's silence before Steve tried to jump at Fury. He'd clearly forgotten he was strapped in, and nearly ripped the wall of the `jet open.

"He died!" he said.

"I couldn't let that stand," Fury said.

"What's going on?" Sam asked. The plane started to head to ground quickly, and he noticed Bucky tensing. "Hey! Settle down before we crash!"

"Coulson's alive?" Clint said, getting the plane under control.

"He's Phil Coulson," Fury said.

"…That makes sense. I guess."

"It does?" Sam asked.

"It's like saying that of course Natasha knows something. She's Natasha."

"Oh."

There was a thump, probably Clint hitting his head against the head-rest. "Really, Nick?"

"I regret nothing," Fury said. "You're gonna see him soon. Don't kill him." He checked his phone. "Stark's happy to know you're alive, Wilson. He won't try to stop you from leaving."

"_You won't lose me, Tony."_

Sam had made that promise before everything fell apart. He still felt incredibly guilty as they flew on, wishing he had his phone back.

Wishing they'd tried to bond so he wouldn't even need it to reassure his soulmate.

"You'll come back someday," Fury said. Sam met his eyes when he realised the former SHIELD director was addressing him.

"Yeah," he said.

_But will it be soon enough?_ he thought.

* * *

**Oh gods, I don't know where to go from there. This is making me sad. I'll have to write something happier after this. Maybe Darcy, or that Daisy/fem!Wade thing I've been thinking about. Say, what would be the female equivalent of the name Wade? Would it be Wanda? Wendy? Eh. I'll look it up later.**

**So yeah, got no idea how this would continue. I did want to write the fairytale ending, but this chapter's gone on long enough. I guess they'd have to send Phil in as a liaison to discuss the act with Ross (I can picture him threatening the general in the politest possible way to keep the hell away from Bruce), and then Tony and Sam could eventually be reunited. Sigh.**

**Please review!**


	133. Captain Latveria (Steve x von Doom)

"Captain Latveria"

Steve observed the ravaged land before him, unashamed of the tears on his cheeks. Lives ruined because of Ultron. Pietro, only a boy, now lying dead and leaving a heartbroken sister behind. It wasn't fair.

"Such a terrible pity."

"Yeah," he agreed absently. "I wish we could've done more."

When there was no reply, he frowned, and turned to face whoever had spoken to him. He startled back when he recognised the figure… and the mask.

"As ruler of one of Sokovia's neighbouring countries, I must thank you for your timely assistance," Baron von Doom said.

"You're… you're Victor von Doom," Steve said. He felt stupid for saying this, but his brain was only just catching up.

"And you are Steve Rogers, Captain America. And my soulmate, I think?"

"I said your words," Steve said. It was half a question.

"You did."

Against his better judgement, he stumbled forward, tugging at his utility belt. He pried it off and parted the front of his uniform, displaying his mark. It probably wasn't the best time or place, but he never thought he'd have a soulmate. Not until he emerged from the ice and found the writing scrawled across his abdomen.

"This your writing?" he asked, part nervous, part excited, all hopeful. Was the wait finally over? Doom ran a thumb over the mark, and Steve shivered at the resulting buzz under his skin.

"Yes," he said, even though it was unnecessary. He pulled up his sleeve, and Steve exhaled in a rush when he saw 'Yeah, I wish we could've done more' in his own handwriting. He reached out to touch, only to pull back at the last moment, recalling his gloves.

"I can't believe it," he murmured.

"Because we are men, or because you are Captain America?"

"Because we're on opposite sides," Steve said. "You're a dictator, and you've tried to take over the world a couple of times, from what I hear."

"You'd fight me, wouldn't you?" Doom said, looking him over. "And yet we're soulmates."

"That's what I'm having trouble swallowing."

"Is that the only thing you would have trouble swallowing?"

He couldn't see Doom's face, but he could hear the smile. Steve smirked.

"Well, I couldn't say," he drawled. "Wouldn't you be a better authority on what I'd be workin' with?"

Doom snorted, and Steve chuckled to himself. He rubbed his warm cheeks, smearing the moisture. Doom moved closer and laid a hand on Steve's shoulder.

"Come and sit down," he said. "You must be tired."

"You have no idea," Steve said. He looked back over towards the Helicarrier, where SHIELD agents – he assumed – were taking people's details. Sadness welled up inside him again when he remembered what they lost. Who they lost. He allowed his soulmate to lead him to a bench nearby, noticing a Latverian helicopter in the distance. He sank onto the cold stone, rested his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands. He wished Sam was there. He wished _Bucky_ was there. He wished he knew where Bucky even was. Warmth surrounded him, and he realised that Doom had put his cloak around Steve's shoulders.

"Do you wish me to—"

Steve's cell phone rang, cutting Doom off. With an apologetic smile, Steve answered.

"Rogers," he said.

"Where are you?"

"Hi, Clint. How's Wanda?"

"How do you think? Look, we're all heading back to the States soon. Fury's giving us a ride. Iron Man and War Machine are travelling by suit, so you don't have to talk to Stark if you don't want to."

"Good, `cause I don't," Steve said. "Not until I know I'm not gonna punch his head off. Still too soon."

"Right. So are you coming?"

He glanced at Doom, who was watching. "Gimme a few minutes. I'm not ready yet."

"Roger that, Cap."

Steve tucked his phone away again, maintaining eye contact with Doom.

"What were you gonna say?" he asked.

"I was going to offer you a place in my country," Doom replied. "Do you wish to come home with me?"

He wanted to say yes, but he'd heard too much about the man. Besides, Steve was Captain America, not Captain Latveria. He had to find Bucky, and he had a home. He had a place with the Avengers, and now it seemed that SHIELD had started up again, so once he'd found Bucky he'd be investigating that next. He sure as hell wasn't likely to get any straight answers from Fury. (Did he ever?)

"I… I can't," Steve said. "My team needs me. And you're… Doctor Doom. You've worked with von Strucker, with _HYDRA_—"

"Never HYDRA," Doom said sternly. "I would never work with them, nor would I work for them."

"Oh." That was good, but… "You're still the bad guy."

"I have been far too busy making Latveria a great country again. Reed Richards really must learn to put the past behind him." Doom stood without warning, and Steve nearly jumped. "Please learn more about me. And remember, Steven Rogers, you will always have a place with your soulmate."

He turned to Steve, and then removed his mask. He wasn't disfigured like the others said, but he did have his fair share of facial scars. Steve would look much the same if he didn't have his super-healing. Still, it was the face of a man who'd fought in battle, the kind of man Steve could respect if he'd fought on the right side. He _looked_ like a leader, more than baby-faced Captain America did.

"Is that a promise?" Steve asked, holding out his hand.

Doom tucked his mask under his arm and shook on it, nodding. With his free hand, he cupped the back of Steve's head, stroking the fine hairs at the base of his skull. It sent tingles down his spine again, and Steve licked his lips absently. Something triggered Doom into leaning down, although he waited for permission. Steve wrapped his own free hand around the back of Doom's neck and tugged him in, breath catching in his throat as their lips met. He opened up, and his heart thudded rapidly as Doom's tongue twined around his own. Steve rose from the bench, trying to get closer, and felt himself getting hard where he was pressed against his soulmate. He scrunched his fingers in the front of Doom's shirt, only pulling back when he felt the buzz of his phone again.

"Goddamnit, Hawkeye," he said, checking the screen. He regretfully passed the cloak back to Doom while he answered. "I'm coming, I'm coming. Keep ya pants on."

"Do you wanna still be here when the press arrive?" Clint said.

Considering the state he was in, Steve definitely didn't want that. "No."

"Then hurry up, captain!" This time it was Hawkeye who hung up first. Steve's heart sank as he returned his phone to his pocket.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"Reconsider whenever you wish, Captain Rogers," Doom said, replacing his mask.

"No," Steve said. "Call me Steve. Please."

Doom inclined his head. "I will avoid any attacks on America in the future. I would hate to have to fight my soulmate."

"Me too." He itched to reach out – still had those gloves on! – but the next person to call would probably be Natasha, which he wanted to avoid. "I'll see you around again… maybe… I hope?"

"Tell me if ever you need help. And call me Victor."

Steve watched as his soulmate retreated, presumably to get ready for some European leader press conference. He picked up his shield, and then ran all the way back to the Helicarrier. As good a cover as any for the red cheeks and unruly hair.

And Pietro's death was as good a cover for any new tears.

* * *

_Months later_

K-THUNK!

Tony's head jerked up, and he noticed the shield embedded deep into the opposite wall of the workshop. He turned his head slowly and glared over his shoulder.

"You're getting that out," he said.

"No, I'm not," Steve said, his arms crossed and feet shoulder-width apart where he stood in the doorway. "Y'know, I really tried to see your side. Hearing the kinda man Howard became I almost felt sorry for you. I still remembered a brave man, and I even thought _you_ were brave after you proved yourself. But you're a great one for forgetting what it's like for people who _weren't_ born with a silver spoon in their mouth. You've been responsible for the deaths of countless innocent people. I know it was partly Howard's fault for getting into weapons production in the first place, but there was a war on. And you got outta v'it, at least until you built Ultron."

"Here we go again," Tony muttered.

"But you don't care about ruining the lives of superheroes who don't have your resources," he continued. "Superheroes who have families, like Clint and Scott. I honestly have no idea why _Natasha_ is on your side. But all this because the public's out for blood."

"Hey, I'm the highest profile superhero there is! I'm the one they try to get blood out of when buildings go boom!"

"No, they try to get money, which you have plenty of," Steve said. "Do what other people do, and set up funds to rebuild after supervillains try to destroy the world. People like Sam and Wanda shouldn't have to pay for the damage caused while trying to save lives. _You_ don't have children to consider. _You_ don't have to rely on government benefits to get by. _You_ weren't brainwashed and mind-wiped for seven decades."

"As always, it comes back to Barnes," Tony said, dropping his screwdriver onto the bench. "Jesus, why don't you just marry the guy? Anyone would think you were soulmates."

"Platonic soulmates, yes." What? "Didn't you know? Oh, that wasn't in the history books, was it? Buck and I are platonic soulmates, and I'm getting him the hell out of America before you and the government get your claws into him."

"Where will you go?" Tony asked.

"To my soulmate," Steve said. "My non-platonic soulmate, that is. So you see, I have no need of that, or this." He indicated a large plastic bag at his feet. Tony could see what looked like the Captain America suit. "I'm thinking of taking up a new identity. Of course, it'll be even less secret, but then I'm ready to make a statement."

"You'll never be able to leave the country—"

"Special dispensation for soulmates _and_ diplomatic immunity. Got immunity for all my friends, in fact. And no, that list does _not_ include you. I don't think it ever really has. Not for me. We're too… different." Something like regret passed over his face, Tony thought. "I'm sorry for it. At least I'll be able to escape the red, white, and blue colour scheme for awhile. I was getting sick of it. It'll be nice to go green."

"Who's your soulmate?" Tony said as Steve stepped out the door.

"You're welcome to the shield, if you think you're worthy enough to wield it," Steve said. "As for my soulmate… you'll find out. It'll be all over the news by nightfall."

He stalked away, and Tony turned back to the project he'd been working on. He stared at the screwdriver, trying to remember what it was for. In the end, there was only one thing to do.

Call Pepper.

"What is it, Tony?" she asked, sounding irritated.

"Steve's gone," he said.

"What?"

"He left behind his shield and his uniform. Told me he's moving overseas. Said he's moving in with his soulmate, or some shit like that."

"Tony!"

"What? He's never mentioned soulmateship before, and suddenly he's telling me that Barnes is his platonic soulmate and that his non-platonic lives… I don't even know where! He even wrangled diplomatic immunity somehow. Can you find out, Pep?"

"Wha… no, I can't and I won't, Tony! Steve is his own person. If you compromised over the registration act, or gave up the whole idea altogether, this wouldn't have happened."

"And now _you're_ on my case. Why am I even surprised? Clearly the only woman I can trust is Natasha, and she stabbed me in the neck once."

"…You _can_ trust me, Tony, but I'm not sure whether I can trust you. I don't know whether you even know what you're doing. Don't call me again unless it's an emergency. If Steve really has met his soulmate, he's within his right to emigrate to be closer to them."

"He wouldn't give me their name."

"Leave it, Tony!" she snapped. "Only. Call. If it's. An emergency."

She hung up, and Tony wished he'd called her on a phone so that he could smash it on the ground. Destructive, but satisfying. Instead, he had to put up with FRIDAY ending the call.

"FRIDAY?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Track the news. As soon as it's announced who Captain America… who Steve's soulmate is, let me know."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Steve had read everything he could on his soulmate, as well as everything on the history of Latveria. He read authorised and unauthorised biographies, scrolled through social media, watched videos, even called the Fantastic Four in hopes of getting some idea of what he'd been like at college.

It helped him understand and appreciate his soulmate some more. He noticed that after Ultron, Latveria employed fewer androids. Steve wasn't sure whether it was because of the swarm in Sokovia, but he liked to think that maybe his distress had touched his soulmate. Stupid thought, but it comforted him whenever he recalled that kiss, and tried to imagine what might've been.

Then the superhero registration act cropped up, just after he'd finally been reunited with Bucky. He regretted Sam and Bucky meeting when they started swapping stories about his 'near-suicidal acts of bravery', as Sam put it. Scott enjoyed listening to it a little too much as he gently worked on Bucky's arm.

"You're sure about this?" Bucky asked, sitting beside him in the VIP section of Doom… of Victor's private jet. "I know you'll miss the others."

"You'll be safer away from there, and I… I wanna see my other soulmate again. I can't look at Tony without wantin' to punch him in the face, and that could kill him."

"No more'n he deserves."

"That's not fair!" Steve said. "He's tryin' t' do good. But he lost any sympathy I might've had when he went after you. If you _did_ kill Howard and Maria, it wasn't your fault. HYDRA was at the wheel, pullin' the trigger—"

"Mixin' your metaphors there, Stevie."

He gave Bucky a withering look. "I know what I'm doing, okay? This isn't just about keeping you safe, or about flipping the American government the bird. This is about following Fate's plan for me, whatever it is. If I can stop any villainy on my soulmate's part, I will. Maybe I can be Captain Latveria?"

"Will you wear tights?" Bucky said.

"Jerk."

Steve couldn't really regret bringing Bucky, though. Not even when he was introducing his two soulmates, and Bucky embarrassed him within thirty seconds.

"You're Victor, right?" Bucky said, shaking Victor's hand enthusiastically.

"Yes."

"Stevie hadn't told me your first name. I just figured that was it considerin' that when we were on the run, I heard him sayin' your name while he was asleep."

Victor hummed. "Really?"

"More like moanin' it. You must've made a real good first impression on him."

"Bucky!" Steve hissed, mortified. He dreamed about Victor sometimes, but he had no idea he actually verbalised anything. Bucky's grin was all too shit-eating.

"I think we're going to get along very well," Victor said, and he clapped Bucky on the shoulder. "Let me give you both the grand tour of Castle Doom."

"No one could ever guess your last name from all the places called Doom-something," Bucky said. Steve face-palmed, and Victor laughed.

"No one else has done as much for Latveria as I," he said. "The people those places were named after were not fit to call themselves rulers."

"Ruler, huh?" Bucky glanced at Steve slyly. "Trust you to get a king for a soulmate."

"Hey!" Steve protested. "He's a doctor, too, y'know."

"Medical doctor? `Cause that would've been appropriate once upon a time."

"Bucky—"

"Listen," he said. "Why don't-cha drop me off at my room? I can unpack; you an' Steve can get reacquainted, which I know he's dyin' to do. If you've got a map for this place I can get food later, if you're still busy gettin' reacquainted." He waggled his eyebrows.

"That is entirely up to Steve," Victor said.

"I'm sure something's up—"

"Yeah, let's get Bucky to his bedroom," Steve said loudly, glaring at his so-called best friend.

"His quarters are right this way," Victor said.

"Quarters?" Bucky said, trotting beside him as Victor led them upstairs.

"A bedroom with fully-equipped en suite, a private study, and a lounge with adjoined kitchenette. The refrigerator and pantry are small, but well stocked with the freshest Latverian produce. If you do not see us until the morning…" He glanced at Steve, who felt his cheeks heat up. "You should be fine. Good night, and sleep well."

"Night," Bucky said, entering the door Victor indicated. Steve straightened his spine, hoping that no one had noticed his trembling legs. On a whim, he grabbed Victor's hand as they walked down the corridor, and entwined their fingers together. It occurred to him that this was the first time they'd touched since meeting in Sokovia, and his heart sped up. He was sure his hand was growing clammy, but Victor didn't comment on it.

"Do not feel pressured, Steve," he said as they arrived at an ornate door. "I have other guest quarters, all with fireplaces in case it gets cold."

"Yeah, we've both got a thing about the cold," Steve confessed.

"I can imagine."

"…I know what I want. I wanna get to know my soulmate." He faced Victor. "If you want, we can wait to bond. But I don't wanna wait another night before I at least get to kiss you again. Don't make me wait for that. Please?"

Victor twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. He gestured Steve to enter first, and followed behind him. When Steve turned to watch him close the door, he found himself being pressed up against it, Victor unmasked again, and happily submitted to one hell of an intense kiss. He tried to press into the contact, and it registered that Victor had a steel-tight hold on his wrists.

"Shit," he whispered against Victor's mouth. "How strong are you?"

"I can crush diamonds."

Steve whimpered. Hot damn.

"When can we bond?" he said. "Victor?"

"Let's talk first—"

"But we _can_ bond, one day?"

Victor brushed their lips together. "Perhaps tonight, if you behave yourself."

"I'll be on my best behaviour," Steve promised.

* * *

The news was playing the umpteenth repeat of the short press conference Doom had held to announce that Steve was his soulmate. Bucky smirked, hoping that Stark and the government were regretting their actions. They'd lost their historical icon and his side-kick in one fell swoop.

He was worried about the people they'd left behind. The Barton kids were home-schooled or something for safety reasons, so Clint and his family would probably visit sometime, and Scott wanted to spend more time with his daughter now that he was out of prison. Wanda didn't want to return to Europe so soon, especially since she and the Vision were developing a relationship. Or had been, before the act. Sam had his work, although he had a standing invitation to come to Latveria as well.

"You go, punk," he said, studying the way Steve kept stealing looks at Victor. His feelings were painfully obvious to anyone with half a brain, and God knows Bucky's mind had been messed around with enough.

Briefly, he wondered when he'd find his soulmate, or whether he'd already found and lost them. Fucking HYDRA screwing with him.

Come to think of it, did he even have a mark other than Steve's? He didn't before he fell from the train, but Steve got one after he came outta the ice. Bucky wandered into the bedroom and found the full-length mirror. He stripped off his shirt and turned around, checking every inch of his upper body.

Nothing. Maybe he didn't have a soul? Maybe HYDRA found his soulmark and burned or cut it off?

Bucky had already kicked off his shoes and socks, Steve's words still inscribed on the sole of his left foot, indicating a platonic relationship. He thumbed open the button on his jeans, lowered the zipper, and pushed down. He left his underpants on, and turned around again. This time, he saw words. A mark! He backed up to the mirror, trying to get a better look at the lines scrawled on the back of his right thigh. Bit of a weird place, but it meant that there was someone out there for him. He had a soulmate.

Since it was still hard to read the words at a distance, and reflected by the mirror, he grabbed his phone and took a picture instead. He perched on the edge of the bed – a comfy one, by the feel of it – and played with the picture to clear it up. Once he read the words, he recognised them.

He'd… he'd heard them. Hadn't he?

'_Let's take a look at you. Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you. Calm down._'

A scene flashed before him. Yeah, he _had_ heard them recently. He quickly scrolled through the list of contacts on his new phone, down the code names they'd established when sides formed. He nearly hit the wrong name, his hands were shaking so much.

"This is Formicidae," Scott said.

"Did I say your words?" Bucky blurted out. Smooth. There was silence for half a moment, and his worry increased.

"Yeah," Scott finally said. "I guess you were kinda out of it, weren't you?"

"I didn't know I had a soulmark. A-a non-platonic one. I didn't see it until tonight. Hang on, lemme send the picture." He hung up, before realising that that was rude. Too late, though. He figured out how to send the image, and waited tentatively for a reply. It came in the form of a picture from Scott, '_What're you gonna do to me?_' in Bucky's writing. He almost leapt out of his skin when his phone rang, and he swiftly answered it.

"Nice to have the confirmation," Scott said.

"Yeah," Bucky agreed. "I'm sorry I didn't know."

"I didn't wanna mention it. It's not the first time I've heard those words before, and I didn't think… but I'm glad it's you. Don't get me wrong. You were always my favourite Howling Commando, y'know. Don't tell Steve; he's a great guy, and I wouldn't wanna hurt his feelings."

"Aw, aren't you sweet," Bucky said, and he reclined back on his bed. "I guess… this is complicated, isn't it? You've got family in the States, and I'm a wanted man there. Wanted pretty much everywhere."

"The only safe place for you right now is with Steve and his soulmate," Scott said. "Don't risk your life for me. I'll join you when I can… if you want me to?"

"Yes! Yes, please. I'm sure Doom will be happy to send a jet for you. You can bring your daughter. He's got heaps of guest rooms here. Would she like to visit a castle?"

"Are you kidding? I don't think she'd ever forgive me if I went to a real life castle without her."

"Would she… like me?"

"She'd love you."

"Would _you_?"

He feared he'd pushed it for a second there, but he was soon set at ease.

"What makes you think I didn't grow up with a boy-crush on you?" Scott said.

"Oh." Bucky was pretty sure he was blushing. He heard someone in the background call out to Scott; it sounded like Clint's wife. "I hope I get to see you real soon."

"You can count on it," Scott said. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For trusting me. With everything, but especially with this."

"I didn't give myself a chance to think twice," Bucky said. "I hate that we have to keep this quiet when we're in so much danger… damn it, I don't know how long I wanna have to wait to see you."

"I know what you mean," Scott said. "Look, I have to go now. Lunch is ready."

"Forgot about the time difference."

"Can I tell Clint?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. I'll be tellin' Steve and Doom tomorrow. But Clint should definitely know. And, uh… I'll be thinkin' about you. When I go to bed tonight. Probably think about you every second I'm awake."

Scott laughed softly. "I thought it was intense when I met Maggie, and she was only my platonic soulmate. Cassie came about because Maggie felt her biological clock ticking, and didn't want to end up like her parents, being so much older. She's still young, so maybe her fiancé… Anyway, I've gotta run before Laura sends one of the kids up to me."

"See you sometime soon, Scott," Bucky said. He bit his tongue before he could blurt out anything inappropriate or desperate.

"The sooner the better, Bucky. Stay safe."

"You, too."

* * *

Steve felt uncomfortable. He wasn't used to being served food someplace other than a diner, and for free. Also, Victor had been especially vigorous that morning, so until Steve's healing factor kicked in he was squirming in place, grateful for the padding on the chairs. Bucky was shooting him knowing looks.

"I didn't realise I'd met my soulmate," he eventually said. Fortunately Steve wasn't eating or drinking at the time. He dropped his knife and fork, though, and stared at his friend.

"When?" he asked.

"…It's Scott. I didn't see my soulmark until last night. I called him, so would it be okay… when he's able to… to bring his daughter out here?" He glanced at Victor, who nodded as he chewed. "Thanks. Apparently she'd love to see a real castle."

"There's a hidden staircase leading to one of the towers near the living quarters," Victor said. "I will arrange for them to be inspected, and if they are safe I will have them furnished for her to stay whenever she wishes."

Steve gazed at his soulmate. "I love you," he said dreamily.

* * *

**Yes, I know I promised a happier chapter, maybe femme-slash. But then I couldn't get this idea out of my mind, and Mum and I watched episodes seven and eight of 'AoS' season three today. So I'm terribly worried about the escalating angst there, which makes writing fluff difficult.**

**This didn't start out as promising as the previous chapter, but it had a much happier ending, didn't it?**

**Please review!**


	134. Just a Friend (DaisyxDeadpool, others)

**Note: The promised Daisy/fem!Wade chapter! Took a bit of thinking to work out a plausible scenario without completely overhauling canon to date. I ended up going with an idea I'd previously had which involved SHIELD getting Team Rogers the hell off-planet, and threw in background pairings.**

"Just a Friend"

"This sucks," Daisy declared, flinging herself backwards onto the bed. She heard Simmons tutting as she sat primly on the end. "Okay, not the bed. Or the accommodations in general. Having to be here at all… _that's_ what sucks."

"You know the director made the right call," Simmons said.

"I don't know about that. I mean, I like Coulson. I do. He's like a father to me. But don't you think this was a little extreme? Some lifelong crush on Captain America's got him acting crazy."

"I'm not sure he's even spoken to Captain Rogers yet," Simmons said, and Daisy glanced at her. "How's the bed?"

"Comfortable," Daisy said. "Too comfortable. I'm gonna have to sleep on cushions on the floor until I get used to it. The _Iliad_ is hardly the Plaza."

"How do you like your quarters?" Sif asked, bounding into the room. "Have you seen yours yet, Healer Simmons?"

"I'm seeing Daisy settled first." Sif frowned, tilting her head. "Skye is going by her birth name in honour of her parents. I'm getting used to it."

"Ah," Sif said. "I shall make sure that Odin is aware of this. What title would you like, Lady Daisy?"

"I don't know," she said, sitting up and curling her arms around her knees. "Agent Johnson will do. D'you have an Asgardian equivalent here? Female knights?"

"I am the only female knight in Asgard," Sif pointed out.

"…I'm in good company, then. What did May choose?"

"Simply to be called May. Not Lady Melinda."

"I'll go with Daisy."

"As you wish," Sif said, bowing to each of them. "Your rooms are next door, Healer Simmons. I will return before dinner."

"Thank you," Simmons said, and Daisy nodded to Sif before the woman strode out.

"So we've left Earth behind," Daisy said. Simmons' shoulders slumped, and she nodded. "Maybe the gate guy, Heimdall… maybe he'll help you find Will? It's worth a shot, right?"

"I… I suppose so."

"You don't wanna leave him stranded on whatever that planet was, do you?"

"No! No, of course not. It's just… with Fitz…"

Daisy sighed. "Yeah, but he's not your soulmate. Will is."

"I know! That's part of why I can't leave him there. I just wish Fitz could find his soulmate. It's no substitute, and your soulmate should _never_ be your rebound. Oh, I hate this, Skye! I mean Daisy. I hate it so much." She bent over where she was sitting, covering her face, and Daisy scrambled up to kneel behind her. She wrapped her arms around her friend from behind, and kissed the top of her head.

"It'll be okay," she promised. "The ATCU is gonna do what they can, intercede on SHIELD's behalf. Fitz and Mack are working on a way to send messages back and forth without having to rely on Heimdall. We can ask the gatekeeper if he can find Will, and the planet with the two moons. You still have the pictures, right?"

"If HYDRA wants anything to do with this—"

"You know Asgard doesn't have any ties to HYDRA, barring that incident with Ward and Lorelei, and she's in prison here," she said. "Repeat after me: everything will be alright."

"Everything… will be alright."

"Like you mean it, Simmons."

"Like you mean it, Simmons. Hey!" She slapped Daisy's hand away. "Fine, I'm sorry. No repeating." She breathed in and out a few times. "Everything will be alright. Everything will be perfectly alright. We'll get Will back. The superheroes still on Earth… on Midgard, they can take care of any problems, including HYDRA. We've sent all the information we had on them to Tony Stark. The grown-ups can take care of the big problems. Everything. Will be. Alright."

She continued to tremble, so Daisy kept holding her.

* * *

Darcy had no idea why she was here. Sure, she wanted to see Thor's sparkly palace, but why did they think she'd be safer out of the way? She understood that Jane would feel awkward being in Asgard since she kinda got Thor's mom killed the last time, but why send just Darcy away? It's not like she was on any real superhero radar or anything. Barely registered on Ian's radar…

Ian. Was that what this was about? Instead of making her suspicious by sending him to the other side of the planet, they sent her to another friggin' dimension. Jeez, talk about star-crossed lovers. They were just fooling around. Nothing serious. Darcy was saving the 'serious' stuff for her soulmate, like most normal people. It was the only explanation for why Selvig was still on Midgard, and Darcy had been shanghaied to another world.

"Hey, aren't you the Falcon?" she said, staring at the guy she was pretty sure was Sam Wilson. Sure, no goggles, but she recognised the facial hair, and knew he was supposed to be here. Besides, how many dark guys were in Asgard? Hogun and Heimdall were the only two she'd seen so far.

"Sam Wilson, at your service," he said, and Darcy may've squealed.

"So cool to meet you!" she said, pumping his hand up and down. "Can I get a selfie with you? Battery's still working, even though the service is, like, zero."

He laughed, and was cool enough to let her take a couple of pictures, including one where she squeezed his upper arm muscles and nearly fainted. Then Captain America came and joined them, and Darcy ended up complaining about the fact that she and Jane had been stuck in Europe _again_ while they were fighting bad guys, and that if she'd been there she totally would've been able to stop Stark from building the killer robot. And if that didn't work, she would've tased Ultron.

"Miss Lewis, please come with me," Agent May said. In a definite no-nonsense tone.

"Yes, ma'am," Darcy said, following her like an obedient puppy. Or duckling. She tried not to think about Agent May as a mother duck, because she was fifty percent sure the woman had telepathy. Like a blank-faced version of Romanov, who Darcy would never get to meet, either.

"I think the subjects of Stark and Ultron are still fresh," Agent May said.

"Oh yeah," she said, and she winced. "But it's still totally true. I'm an awesome scientist wrangler. I keep Jane and Eric alive and doing Science!, even though I don't get paid for it. Totally earned those six science credit points, by the way."

"Maybe you could wrangle _our_ scientists when they get carried away here."

"Something to do? Aw, yeah! Lead me there, my good lady. Bee-tee-dubs, when's Agent iPod Thief joining us?"

"Director iPod Thief is still rounding up superheroes-in-hiding," she said.

Darcy mentally congratulated herself for the almost-smile she thought she saw there.

"So who am I wrangling?" she said.

"Fitz has jumped right into the deep end," Agent May said. "He's still heartbroken now that Simmons has found her soulmate, and we had to leave all our research behind, so he's working out his frustration. King Odin found work for him to do."

"Thor's dad is being a real sweetie-pie letting us stay here, isn't he?" Darcy said.

"I hear he was insistent."

"Cool." They stopped at a door, and Darcy heard the distinct sounds of mechanical tinkering. She peeked through the window, and saw the lower half of someone's body beneath a huge table-like machine. "Uh, is that safe?"

"So I've been told."

"Yeah, but if he's heartbroken isn't he gonna be reckless?"

"Not yet," Agent May said. Darcy frowned, adjusted her woollen beanie, and then pushed open the door. She cleared her throat as she approached the machine, and the pair of legs. Before she could offer help, the legs slid out further.

"Can yeh hand me that… silver doodad with the wheels?" Fitz asked.

Darcy froze. He was heartbroken over Simmons – whoever that was – finding her soulmate. She had to remember that. Kneeling, she grabbed the only silver thing with wheels, which didn't look like any tool she'd ever seen. She slid it under the machine, and Fitz grunted. After a minute, he emerged, forehead streaked with grease of some kind, and a hollow look in his eyes. He smiled grimly, and wiped his hands on a rag.

It would be weird if she didn't say anything, and she didn't have any more words in her soulmark, so it had to be soon. After opening and closing her mouth a couple of times, she made up her mind.

"Is that an official word in Scotland?" she asked. (It was a Scottish accent, right?)

"W-what?" His jaw dropped.

"Doodad," she said. "I mean, it works in Word, but with all the Harry Potter fan fiction I write my personalised dictionary has gotten outta hand. There's only so many times you're willing to put up with squiggly red lines under Voldemort or Quidditch or Expelliarmus or Weasley. Am I right?"

"Uh…"

"Hey, I'm Darcy Lewis," she said, holding out her hand. He shook it, and she was glad he'd used the rag. She'd still have to wash up before dinner. "Intern to Dr. Jane Foster."

"F-Fitz. Uh, Leo Fitz. Dr. Leopold Fitz."

"Nice to meet you, soulmate," she said. "Listen, if you just want a friend that's okay. I think I was sent here to keep me away from my intern, but Jane and Thor are old-fashioned like that. I'm cool with whatever you want. Serious, not serious. Platonic or non-platonic. Just lemme know when you're ready, okay? In the meantime, when did you last eat or drink? Or sleep? C'mon, my temporary job as SHIELD scientist wrangler starts right now."

* * *

Phil shook off the shiver which had wormed its way down his spine. He was pretty sure he wasn't being watched. The ATCU was creating distractions elsewhere while he rounded up the last of the superheroes he was taking off-world.

"You're sure about this?" he asked Barton. Hawkeye hummed a confirmation, which wasn't good enough, but Phil had learnt to lower his expectations.

"Question is if _he's_ sure," Barton said.

"The kid is seventeen. He's not old enough to drink or smoke, let alone vote."

"And? How old were you when you joined SHIELD?"

"…Good point." He paused, scanning the area, and noticed the moment Hawkeye realised what was going on. "I thought you said it was just _one_?"

"Yeah, just Parker," Barton said. He nocked his arrow and stepped into a sliver of light. "Spiderman? Which side are you on? And who did you bring with you?"

"I didn't bring anyone," the teenager said, emerging from the shadows.

"Come on. Who's your friend?"

"I swear, I didn't…" The boy's face turned resigned. "_Wanda_. Wanda Wilson, you get your ass out here!"

"As in Deadpool?" Barton said. "Why the hell is she hanging around with you?"

"Aw!" Deadpool jumped into a wider patch of sun, like a spotlight. "He didn't have anyone else to give him pointers, the poor baby. I figured he needed a guiding hand. If ya know what I mean." Her mask moved with her eyebrows as she waggled them up and down. Phil groaned, and joined them in the middle of the room.

"What are you doing here, Wilson?" he asked.

"Is this a one-Wilson gig? Because I was on the super scene before the Falcon."

"_No_," Phil said. "Both of the Maximioff twins… actually, they're—"

"Please, please, _please_ can I come along? There's a bounty on my head again, and Spidey here might need my help! He'll be all overwhelmed as soon as you put him in front of Captain America."

"Look, I think Stark's become a bit unhinged from grief," Parker said.

"Not surprising," Phil said. "This trip to Asgard can only be made with the assistance of its gatekeeper. If you're trying to spy on us, it won't work." He chose not to mention that Fitz was supposed to use the notes Lewis had smuggled into Asgard to create a more efficient way of transporting between the realms, as having an engineer on board might be the missing key for Foster. Especially an engineer of Fitz's skill.

"I'm not trying to spy," Parker said. "That'd be pretty stupid, since you're all professional spies anyway. I'd never get away with it." Reasonable enough.

"We're going to Asgard!" Wilson exclaimed, and she danced around, singing to some random invisible person called Celia. Phil sighed, and glanced at Barton, who nodded. Well, he'd trusted the archer's judgement before, and one time it even gained them the Black Widow. If Barton's instincts were telling him to trust Spiderman… and Deadpool, Phil would go with it. He'd never regret following the instincts that had told him to recruit Barton, instead of taking him out.

"Is there anyone you want to reassure before you go, anyone you want us to keep an eye on?" he asked. He knew about Parker's aunt, but there didn't seem to be anyone else who could be used against him.

"Just my Aunt May—"

"Send her a message saying that you're going into hiding, but not where, or who with. I have someone tracking your outgoing messages. Barton, I'll arrange transport."

"Yes, sir," Barton said, watching Parker and Wilson.

"Can't believe I'm taking Deadpool to Asgard," Phil muttered, fishing out his cell phone as he walked out the door. "Rogers will kill me. _May_ will kill me."

* * *

May hated leaving Andrew behind, but after they'd rescued him from Ward he'd felt like he owed the ATCU. So when SHIELD had to go off-world, he'd offered to work with them and keep an eye on things at that end. It was only the main staff from the _Iliad_ who'd agreed to go to Asgard, especially with HYDRA still on their trail.

"Why did you choose Asgard?" Lady Sif asked.

"It was Coulson's decision," May said.

"Did he have a reason?"

"We're allies." When Sif continued to watch her, May added, "And I think it has something to do with his soulmark."

"Ah," she said. "When he arrived he did indeed look around with interest. I was not sure whether it was curiosity or—"

"Or something else."

"Aye." Sif smiled. "If he is searching for his soulmate here, there is no nobler reason. Does he have reason to believe the other half of his soul will be here?"

May pulled out her phone and found the picture Phil had allowed her to take. "This is his soulmark. It's the same kind of writing Jane Foster has." Sif's smile dimmed slightly, and when she studied the photo it dropped completely.

"What!"

"What is it?" May said.

"That writing…" Sif's gaze darted back and forth, and her breathing grew heavier.

"What is it?" she repeated.

"I know that hand. It…"

"It what, Sif?"

"…It resembles Loki's script."

May stepped back. "Impossible."

"I know. He is dead."

"And he killed Coulson. They've met before. He didn't get his soulmark until after he came back to life…" Sif still looked troubled. "Could you translate it for me?"

"But Loki is _dead_," Sif whispered.

"I got the impression that it wouldn't be the first time you've thought that."

"No, that is true."

"…What does it say?"

"Oh, forgive me," Sif said, shaking herself. She peered over May's shoulder at the image. "It says 'You have found all you searched for, Son of Coul?'"

"I don't think those were his first words to Coulson on the Helicarrier," May said. "I read the official report, and Coulson told me what happened."

"If Loki is alive, Thor must be informed. Odin must be informed!"

"Let's not jump to conclusions," May said. "Do you have any samples of Loki's writing? We could show them to Coulson when he returns."

"Come with me. He wrote often in the archives."

* * *

Phil ticked off the last person he'd had to bring to Asgard. He was still considering returning to America – he couldn't leave the Koenig brothers or Fury in charge indefinitely – but he needed to finish explaining himself to the Avengers. And since half of them were in Asgard, he should start there.

"I'm not introducing you to Odin unless he asks," he told Deadpool.

"Got it," she said, saluting him. "I've met him before, anyway, in a different chapter. Different ship this time, of course—"

"Okay," he said quickly. "Sif is taking me to see the king now. Please don't get into any trouble while I'm away?"

"I'll keep an eye on her," Parker said, dragging Deadpool away.

Sif led Phil into what he assumed was the throne room. Odin sat up high, holding a sceptre (probably 'magical') which brought back bad memories. He waited for the monarch to speak first.

"My king, this is Phillip, Son of Coul," Sif said, sweeping her hand to indicate Phil.

"You have found all you searched for, Son of Coul?" Odin said.

Phil noticed Sif's jaw drop, and her head swivel back and forth between them. He brushed it aside and nodded.

"Yes, thank you, your highness," he began. And then Sif leapt between them, and May appeared out of nowhere to stand in his way as well. "What the hell, May?"

"Where is Odin?" Sif growled.

"What?"

"That's Loki," May said, her back pressing against Phil's front as she tried to force him backwards. He glared at the back of her head.

"What are you talking about?" he said.

"He said your soul words!"

"I have seen an image of his soulmark, and it is in Loki's hand," Sif said, still staring at the man on the throne. His eyes… eye had widened, and Phil was torn between hoping this was real and hoping it wasn't. At least he wasn't the one offending whoever this was.

"Father," Odin (?) murmured. And no, apparently it _wasn't_ Odin, because the man's double appeared in the corner of the room. He strode up the stairs to the throne and took the sceptre.

"Go," Real Odin said. "I will explain."

"Um—" Phil wasn't sure where he was going with that, because Odin stamped the sceptre down on the floor, and he was suddenly in a new place. A bedroom, by the looks of it, and didn't _that _put him on edge. He looked around, and the Odin disguise melted away, leaving a horribly familiar face in its place.

"Hello again, Son of Coul," Loki said.

Shaking his head, Phil backed away. His chest started to ache, the pain growing worse until it was like he was reliving the stabbing on the Helicarrier. He could almost hear Thor's bellow in the background, feel the ice cold of whatever had pierced him, and cried out when his back met the wall. He sank to the ground, legs unable to hold him up anymore, and he tried to control his breathing as he pressed further back. He was probably looking at Loki, but couldn't focus. Everything pressed in on him. He couldn't breathe. There was a weight on his chest, his lungs, keeping him from drawing enough air.

"Shh," Loki whispered, and Phil realised the man… his soulmate… was holding him tightly. "I'm here."

"I don't think… that makes it… any better," Phil panted. Loki eased his grip, but it didn't make breathing any easier. He tried to take deep breaths nonetheless, like after he'd had a nightmare. It reminded him that he was alive. As long as he could breathe, he was alive.

"If… you wish me to leave…?"

"Don't see that… happening. Your dad… sent us here."

"My quarters." Phil felt cold lips against his forehead, and shuddered. "Whatever troubles you, it will pass. You are safe with me—"

"I wasn't before!" Phil squeezed his eyes shut, leaning into Loki's embrace involuntarily. "You killed me."

"You are my soulmate now," Loki said. Phil couldn't stop shaking, and Loki held him closer. Phil didn't know whether this was a good or bad thing. "As Odin is no doubt explaining at this moment, he placed me on the throne when we discovered my soulmark. It was Midgardian writing, and once we deciphered it… it contains 'Your highness', indicating that I would likely be a king when I met my soulmate. It was either Asgard – as Odin – or Jötunheim. He wished to keep me under observation, so Asgard it was. That is why we were happy to welcome your people here."

"Great," Phil gasped. He couldn't control the trembling in his limbs.

"What… what can I do to help you?" Loki asked. "Tell me."

"B-breathe with me." It was impossible to think beyond that. Fortunately, Loki seemed to understand what he meant, and moved one hand to Phil's cheek. He turned his head around, and pressed their foreheads together, breathing slowly. Phil tried to match it, relying on the regular puffs of air he could feel against his lips. It felt like Loki was too close, but if he moved away Phil might lose it. Terrible, contradictory feelings. But steady breaths helped.

"There," Loki said, and Phil realised that he was breathing normally by himself. "Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah."

"You're safe. I would never deliberately hurt my soulmate. You must believe me. I may be a monster, but my kind… we're terribly protective of our soulmates."

Phil nodded. He didn't really know what to say. Loki bowed his head, pressing their cheeks together.

"I will do everything within my power to make this right," he vowed. "I swear on the soul I once believed myself devoid of."

"You… you thought you didn't have a soul?"

"The other children, and later members of the court… they would say that I had no soul because I had no soulmark."

"That's ridiculous!" Phil said. "I didn't have a soulmark until after I came back to life. Until then, I believed either I'd die young or my soulmate would lose their first soulmate young. On… Midgard, we believe everyone has a soul."

"I… I did not."

"Oh." As Freudian excuses go, it wasn't bad. Didn't excuse mass murder, but he understood how someone could go crazy if they thought they didn't have a soul.

* * *

"…So Coulson's soulmate is the guy who killed him," Daisy said, staring at May and Sif. They nodded as one. "Great. And I thought Ward was bad enough."

"Daisy!" Simmons said, bouncing into her quarters. She must've spoken with Heimdall, because it seemed like that was the only thing which could cheer her up.

"Loki is DC's soulmate," Daisy said. That wiped off Simmons's smile, which made her feel bad.

"Oh," she said.

"I'm gonna go back and ream Odin out for sending them away like that," May said.

"You mean you didn't already do that?" Daisy asked.

"Oh, I did, but not nearly enough," she said, and she stalked out of the room. Sif gave Daisy and Simmons a not-very-reassuring smile, and followed May.

"Well… Fitz found his soulmate," Simmons said. "I just heard about it. It's Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster's assistant."

"Hey, that's great!" Daisy said. "Wow. We're really in a good place for finding soulmates, aren't we? Spoken to Heimdall yet?"

"I was on my way back from there when I ran into Fitz and Darcy. She was trying to find the kitchens to feed Fitz, and told me they were soulmates. Heimdall _can_ send me to Will, although I suspect Director Coulson won't let me go without an escort."

"I don't know whether I can go," Daisy said. "If the monolith is dangerous for Inhumans, what does that say about the planet?"

"Of course, if Coulson is stuck elsewhere for the time being, I suppose I'll have to direct my questions to Agent May." Simmons was lost in thought now. Daisy was happy for her, really. She'd be getting her soulmate back.

"Go find her, then," Daisy said. "Before Odin kicks her out for being disrespectful or something. He might have to okay Heimdall opening the gate for you, especially if your planet is dangerous and sentient."

"Oh, and Coulson has brought the last few supers, if you want to meet them."

Daisy shrugged. It was better than sitting around and brooding. She followed Simmons, pocketing her phone out of habit, and traced the loud chatter to an open area with large windows, and a huge table laden down with food. She recognised the SHIELD agents who'd come on the trip, and most of the superheroes, even though everyone was out of uniform. But one person wasn't; a woman dressed all in red and black with a mask, and hanging around a teenager she didn't know. She could only guess that it was Spiderman, and that the woman in costume was…

"That's Wanda Wilson, aka Deadpool," Mack told Daisy, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. "Tagged along when Barton okayed it."

"Anything I need to know about her?"

"She'll talk your ears off given half a chance."

"That's positive," Daisy muttered. She told herself to get it all over with, and trotted down the stairs. Deadpool looked up, and made a beeline for her.

"Hi, I think you're my soulmate!" she said brightly. "We're gonna be the best of friends, I can tell."

Daisy stared as Deadpool grabbed her hand and shook it. Probably time to speak.

"Hi," she said. "I'm Skye. I mean, Daisy. Daisy Johnson."

"I knew it!" Wanda said, and she spun around. "Let's find somewhere private and get to know each other. I wanna know everything about you. C'mon."

"Uh—"

But Deadpool dragged Daisy down a hallway until they found an alcove with another great view of Asgard, and tugged her up to perch on the ledge. Daisy figured it couldn't be too dangerous, with her SHIELD training and her powers, so she sat beside Wanda, letting her feet dangle over the bushes far below.

"So, tell me all about yourself, whatever name you want me to use," Wanda said.

"Go with Daisy," she said. "It was Mary Sue at the orphanage, but I chose Skye. Then I found out that my birth name was Daisy Johnson, so I use that now to honour my parents' memory. They… they tried. I have to give `em that."

"Cool," Wanda said, and she shuffled closer to Daisy. "Sexual orientation?"

"Uh!" She curled her fingers around the marble. "Straight. So far. I've only been in relationships with guys…"

"Wise," she said. "You wouldn't wanna bond with me anyway. Too much crazy up here." She twirled a finger around beside her ear. "Plus, I was horribly scarred in a bunch of experiments, waaaaaaaay before you were born. And I annoy the crap out of everyone I meet. I'm surprised I even have a soulmate. You'd have to have the patience of a saint to put up with me."

"I could," Daisy said. "For my soulmate."

"I'd show you my soulmark, but it's on my skin—"

"They usually are."

"And my skin isn't exactly a work of art."

"Show me anyway?"

With a heavy sigh, Deadpool rolled her left sleeve up. Daisy saw what she meant about her skin immediately. It was wrinkled and blistered and scarred, and surely it hurt? Blinking away tears of sympathy, she studied the soulmark, and confirmed it was her writing. She tugged off her t-shirt and swivelled around so Wanda could see the mark on her back.

"Wow," she said, tracing the letters and making Daisy shiver. "I made my writing as pretty as I could, to make up for the rest of me. If you're gonna be stuck with me for a soulmate, you may as well have a nice-looking soulmark."

"It's beautiful."

Deadpool lowered her sleeve again, covering her flesh, and Daisy pulled her shirt back on. She looked out over the horizon again, and briefly wondered how her first conversation with her soulmate was going compared to Coulson's. Was he okay? If pressed, Daisy couldn't say whether she preferred this to Coulson being with Rosalind Price. Bit of a hard choice.

"At least I was prepared for a platonic relationship with my soulmate," she said, finding the quiet unsettling. "Your words… about us being best friends… wasn't sure whether you'd take one look at me and decide that you preferred platonic, or if there was some other reason. Your orientation?"

"I'll hit on anything that moves, and some things that don't," Wanda said. "It's me, not you, sweetheart. Flirting is safe, because no one's gonna take me up on it. If my personality doesn't put them off, my face does."

"Will you take off your mask for me?"

"I'll do anything, but I won't do that. They'd probably throw me in the dungeon here for being… well, me."

"I wouldn't let them do that," Daisy promised, resting her hand over Wanda's. "As long as we're soulmates, I'll defend you."

"Say, has your soulmark changed much? I die a lot, so I wasn't sure…?"

"No. But then I only got my soulmark after I became Inhuman, and I didn't even know I had one at first. Lincoln… he's a friend of mine. He mentioned my soulmark, and then he had to tell me what it said. You know, I really thought I'd be the one to speak first." Deadpool tapped the side of her nose. "Yeah, I know. My name is in your mark. Both of them. Someone probably mentioned me to you."

"Something like that."

"So you're okay with staying friends?" Wanda nodded. "Okay. I'm cool with that."

As Wanda started to chat away a mile a minute, Daisy wished that things could be different. If she could bond with her soulmate, maybe she'd feel whole again. But there was no way Wanda would agree to bonding, for the sake of Daisy's sanity if nothing else. It was sweet, but disappointing, and Daisy wondered whether there was someone in Asgard who could help them. And that she had access to gay porn, because that would probably be helpful if they _could_ bond. A bare arm against a bare back? Yeah, not a typically platonic bonding position.

* * *

Dinner was tense. May kept scowling at Odin, who politely ignored her. Simmons alternated between vibrating with excitement over being able to find Will, and looking guiltily at Fitz. Darcy was keeping up a loud conversation with Fitz, obviously trying to distract him. She'd have her work cut out once they brought Will back to Asgard, but it seemed she was determined to help her soulmate through his heartbreak, and be there for him when he was ready to move on.

As for Coulson and Loki, they were still gone. Odin had insisted that it wasn't the right time to bring them back yet, which made Daisy wonder what was supposed to happen. It's not like Coulson would want the man who killed him… right? Even if they were soulmates? Which, by the way, she still found hard to believe.

She turned her attention back to the meal, observing the interactions between the superheroes taking refuge in Asgard. Would they ever be able to go home?

"I wouldn't worry about it," Deadpool said.

"About what?" Daisy said.

"Whatever you're worrying about! This is magical fairyland. Everything will turn out well. I mean, the author promised a happier chapter with us, so she's not gonna overwhelm us with angst. Otherwise she'd be going back on her word. She already did it once by writing Rogers with D—"

_Shut up, Deadpool! This is a long chapter, okay?_

"Are you feeling alright?" Daisy asked.

"Just dandy," Wanda said. "Y'know, we'll have to leave Asgard when the Maximoff twins are brought here, so there won't be two Wandas. Although I think they're still citizens of wherever they come from—"

"They are. Coulson arranged for them to be transported out of the US so they'll be safe from the Registration Act if it goes ahead."

"Then we can stay longer? Sweet! We should go exploring tomorrow. Are you down for that? We can play twenty questions again."

"There's a lot about me which is classified," Daisy said. Wanda pouted.

"Even from your soulmate?" she whined.

"I… I guess as long as it's not mission-related… I could probably tell you some of it."

Wanda brightened, and dug into her large helping of whatever the meat was. Daisy watched her for a moment, and then continued her own meal. Until she knew what all this stuff was, she was sticking to the food which looked the safest. She didn't know how many Midgardians had eaten Asgardian food before, and it would suck if one of them had an allergic reaction to a staple ingredient.

"Where are you sleeping?" she said.

"I've got my own room next to Spidey," Wanda said. "In case he needs a familiar face around. Besides, I don't share a bed with people much. It sucks to sleep in uniform." She plucked the red material. "I'm more comfortable without it."

"Uh-huh. We could go exploring after breakfast, then? So neither of us stumbles into the wrong room?"

"Great plan!"

"And hopefully Coulson will be back by then," Daisy muttered, glancing at the two empty chairs to the left of Odin.

* * *

Loki woke entangled with… someone. It was a new sensation. He was reluctant to open his eyes, in case it all disappeared, but curiosity prompted him.

A man. Slightly surprising, and thank the Norns they were both still dressed. Loki noticed that his skin – not the man's – was blue. Why was he in Jötun form? Why… why was he in bed with anyone at all?

Then his mind cleared. Of course. His soulmate. Loki had met his soulmate. Who was now stirring, pressing against Loki instead of away from him. He looked up, blinking, and Loki remembered their meeting. The Son of Coul. How he had backed away from Loki, curled up as small as possible, and seemed to leave his mind. Loki could hardly blame him for the reaction, considering…

"You stayed," he murmured.

"Don't know my way around here," Phil said, and he yawned widely. "What if your door's locked with magic? I wouldn't be able to get out."

"I am sorry."

"Mmm. You kept saying that yesterday." Phil rolled onto his back, absently picking up one of Loki's hands and playing with his fingers. It was terribly distracting.

"For you to have me as your soulmate…" Loki shook his head. "Do not feel forced to accept me."

"No one can force me to do anything." He paused. "Except your father."

"He is not my father," Loki said.

"He raised you. Made sure you always had a roof over your head. I wouldn't nominate him for Dad of the Year, after what you've told me, but…" Phil sighed, and stroked the inside of Loki's wrist. Even _more_ distracting. "It seems that if you'd been introduced to the concept of self-acceptance early enough, and hadn't been told that all Jötun were monsters, things would've turned out differently. Not exactly A-plus parenting there."

"I must accept responsibility—"

"And not everyone who has a terrible upbringing commits mass murder. But you're how many centuries old? Compared to the decades most humans suffer through?"

Loki blinked back the moisture building in his eyes. "You cannot forgive me."

"I can try," Phil said. "I _will_ try, Loki. I know many people who've done horrible things in their past which they wish they could take back. Romanov calls it red in her ledger."

"I am aware."

He nodded. "I can't discriminate against you when you come from a different culture, and when you've been alive for so long, just because you killed me. And many SHIELD agents, not to mention those you brainwashed…" Loki flinched, and Phil cleared his throat. "The point is, if I have to forgive anyone for past crimes, to help redeem them, I should start with my soulmate."

Loki yearned to lean down and kiss the other half of his soul, but forgiveness would take a long time. For now, he would content himself with endeavouring to earn it.

* * *

_Christmas Day_

"Are you okay?" Darcy asked, glancing at her soulmate.

"Yeah," Fitz said. Jemma and Will were kissing near the Christmas tree Jane and Thor had brought from Midgard. Jemma's baby bump was barely visible beneath her sweater, or 'jumper' as she and Fitz called it. Darcy had been pretty sure Fitz was getting over her – hoping for it, really – so she told herself that he was probably only thinking about what might've been. Because Jemma and Will were married, and now expecting.

"Then turn that frown upside down," she said, poking the sides of his mouth. His lips curled up in response, and he turned pink.

"Is this a smile or an upside down frown?" he said.

"Making a _Simpsons_ reference, I _love_ you," she declared, and she kissed his cheek.

"I… uh…"

"Wow. If I'd known that'd get you so flustered, I would've done it sooner."

"Well, y' see," he said, wringing his hands. "I was thinking… _we_ could get married."

Darcy couldn't help looking at Will and Jemma, no longer kissing but still staring at each other moon-eyed. "Why?"

"Not because of that," Fitz said. "Because you're my soulmate, and… and I'm no good at talking about feelings, but I want to marry you for you, not for anything else. I'm over Simmons, Darcy. It's you I want to spend the rest of my life with. I've been trying to think how to ask you for weeks…" His cheeks were bright red by now, and Darcy had to kiss him.

"Wow, finally got the guts to spill about the overwhelming passion you feel for your soulmate?" Daisy said dryly. Darcy grumbled as she pulled back, until the words registered. Fitz looked pissed; Darcy grinned smugly.

"Overwhelming passion, huh?" she said. Fitz mumbled something which sounded like 'Shut up', but since he didn't speak clearly enough it didn't count. "You told Daisy before you told me?"

"Needed the encouragement," he said.

"These babies weren't encouragement enough to speak up?" Darcy said, indicating her breasts. Impressively, Fitz didn't look at them.

"I respect you more than that," he said.

"Aw." She pecked him on the lips again. "You're too cute. C'mon. I'd buy you a drink but it's all on the house."

Deadpool skidded past and jumped Daisy, who barely caught her in time. Wanda planted a big smooch on her.

"Coulson just told me that the American government's pulled its head out of its ass, and we can go back home whenever we want to," she said. "Also, HYDRA's gone. It was a close thing in some big Christmas Eve battle, and now they're begging for their superheroes to come home."

"You know I'll go wherever you go," Daisy said. Fitz squeezed Darcy's hand.

"Same here," he said softly. "Whether you continue to work for Jane, or join SHIELD, I'll be there."

"We'll make it work," she agreed. "I don't know whether it's safe for Jemma to travel while she's pregnant—"

"That doesn't factor into it," Fitz said. That was practically a declaration of love right there, and Darcy was sure she was gonna melt. "I think… I think Loki will probably want to make amends on Midgard, and Coulson has to pick up the reins again at SHIELD sometime, so they'll probably return. Most of them will."

"If we're gonna get married, let's make it before our new gang has to split up," Darcy said. Fitz's jaw dropped. "No take-backsies on the proposal."

"N-no, of course not."

"Sweet. Now come and kiss me under the plant that definitely isn't mistletoe because they have a thing about it here."

* * *

**There's a story in Norse mythology to do with mistletoe killing the most-loved Prince Baldur. I think it goes that mistletoe was the only thing which could kill him, and Loki arranged it that someone threw it at Baldur. The only way to bring Baldur back to life was if everyone cried over him, and Loki refused to, so the prince stayed dead. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure that's the story. Of course, since that probably isn't in Marvel canon anywhere, that last line was just a (literal) mythology gag.**

**Okay, so I wasn't sure how to finish this without dragging it out by another 5000 words. Then I decided 'Hell, it's nearly Christmas', and decided to take a short cut. I guess you'll have to wait until the Headcanon for this chapter is posted to see what else happened. This was at least a happier ending than the previous couple of chapters, while still having 'Civil War' in the background. Sorta. And a more hopeful outlook for Coulson and Loki than in 'Author is Cruel', whichever chapter that was.**

**Please review!**


	135. Reconciliation (Darcy x Phil)

"Reconciliation"

Daisy kept monitoring the surveillance for Phil, sending reports to him periodically, as well as keeping an eye on every relevant tag on social media, bless her. He sighed as he flicked through the data with reluctant sweeps of his hands. What he wouldn't give to have someone neutral, with more political know-how…

Hang on.

He shot off a message to Daisy: _Need you to find Darcy Lewis for me._

The reply said: _Done and done. Will get co-ordinates to you ASAP_.

Phil made for the deck, asking for the first available pilot. May happened to be free, and needed the distraction. By the time he had a location, they were ready for take-off. He just needed to make a stop at an Apple store first…

* * *

The door swung open, and Phil smiled tentatively. He held up a gift-wrapped box as Darcy's jaw dropped.

"Reconciliation iPod?" he said at the same time she said, "Holy hellfire!"

Then they stared at each other for five seconds.

"What?" they both said.

Thor was out, and the others were involved in science, so Phil was able to sit at the small dining room table opposite Darcy. His soulmate, apparently. He'd thought the writing was familiar when he saw his soulmark after coming back to life, but he hadn't seen any of the forms Darcy had signed since then, so he'd had nothing to compare it with. Now they were staring at each other's palms, Darcy at Phil's right hand and him at her left. She'd been wearing woollen fingerless gloves, and he'd been wearing a fake skin created by SHIELD.

"I wasn't expecting this," he said.

"Likewise. So I'm guessing you've been alive all this time?"

"Not all of it," Phil said. Darcy winced, and nodded. "Did they say what happened to me… with Loki?"

"Yeah, but I didn't connect it with getting a soulmark," she said. "Gonna show me your left hand?"

"Nothing to see there."

"Dude, it's right—" She shrieked when he disconnected the prosthesis from his arm, before securing it back on. "Shit, don't _do_ that!"

"Sorry," he said. "Listen, Miss Lewis—"

"Darcy. We're soulmates, so you might as well use my name."

"There's a reason I came here today," Phil continued. "To see you."

"You didn't even know we were soulmates until now," she pointed out.

"No, I need your skills," he said.

"Uh-huh? Keep talkin'."

"You studied political science, you're a scientist wrangler, and you have experience with superheroes."

"Really only Thor," she said, frowning. "I haven't met the others yet. I'm dyin' to meet Banner, `cause he sounds like a real sweetie, and there's the whole Culver connection. We could reminisce about days at college—"

"Have you heard about the ongoing debate over the superhero registration act?" he said. It seemed expedient to interrupt. Darcy's face shuttered.

"Yeah," she said. "I've heard. Thor's… not happy about it."

"And I'm sure that's an understatement."

"Yep."

"I was hoping to bring you in," he said. "I've arranged a meeting. The Avengers who'll be present know that the director of SHIELD will be there, but I presume they don't know it's me. I'd like to take you along to help handle negotiations. Having a friend of Thor there to act as a buffer would be great, and you're handy with a taser."

"Aren't they illegal in New York?" she asked.

"Extenuating circumstances."

"Hmm." She quirked her lips. "Hasn't anyone thought of doing what charities do?"

Phil leaned back in the chair. "What… _specifically_ did you have in mind?"

"Well, you know how sometimes they have those little stalls which sell pens and bags and teddy bears, and the proceeds go to whatever charity it is?"

"Yes?"

"Avengers merchandise. You've got more players, so more scope. Re-release some of the old Cap merch – I'm sure you can consult on that – and get in on the market. Do official toys, maybe some signed stuff, and put the proceeds towards some kind of insurance thing. Like when they did Live Aid way back when. Each time there's a disaster, release new stuff. Shiny things to distract people. A superheroes calendar where all the guys are half-naked. Do makeup, like pictures to apply to nails, a range of the colours the Black Widow and the Scarlet Witch wear. 'You can get the superheroine look, too!' That'd be a cool slogan."

"So capitalising on saving the world is the best way to go about this?" Phil said, though he couldn't deny that the idea had appeal. Darcy shrugged.

"It all comes down to property damage, which all comes down to money," she said, "so capitalism is the answer."

"And releasing toys will appeal not only to the children's market, but to the parents as well," he said. "As long as we have _children_ on our side, we'll get the parents. No one wants to protest against superheroes if their kids are fans."

"They shouldn't be protesting against the Avengers anyway," she said, and she snorted. "It's so petty. If it wasn't for superheroes, the bad guys would easily take over. The kind of people who sympathise with the villains must have bad taste in people. Or terrible upbringings."

"Bad upbringings are no excuse for killing people," Phil said, immediately thinking about Ward, and he had to suppress a shudder. "Look at Harry Potter. The Dursleys weren't much better than the orphanage, but Tom Riddle chose darkness while Harry chose light."

Darcy stared at him, her mouth dropping open. "Holy crap, you've seen the movies?"

"Please," he said, frowning slightly. "I read the books first."

"Oh my God."

"I'm in my fifties. I'm not dead."

"You're adorable, and I want to cuddle you."

"Please don't."

She pouted. "Okay, spoilsport. Still want me to come along with you?"

"Yes. I'm feeling better already."

* * *

Steve's eyes nearly fell out of his head when Phil walked in the door. Tony knocked his chair over as he leapt to his feet.

"I _knew_ it!" he said. "It _was_ you Fury was talking about!"

"General Talbot," Phil said, nodding at his ally across the table while ignoring Tony and Steve. He narrowed his eyes at General Ross. "Stay away from Bruce Banner if you know what's good for you."

"Are you threatening me?" Ross growled.

"Yes," Phil said bluntly. He glanced at Darcy, who stood at his elbow, and she smiled at him encouragingly. "Let's get started, everyone. We'll make this as brief as possible. I know how valuable General Talbot's time is."

"Good to see you again, Coulson," Talbot said. "Still in one piece?"

"Mostly," he said, wriggling the fingers of his prosthesis absently. "Gentlemen, Darcy, please take your seats."

"What's she doing here?" Ross said.

"Miss Lewis has a degree in political science, and is here as a consultant."

"Who'd she sleep with to get that position?"

"No one," Phil said, noting with amusement that Darcy's hand was twitching towards her concealed taser. "We only just found out that we're soulmates. There's been no time for that yet."

"We haven't even started setting boundaries yet," Darcy added. "If Thor's brother was alive and here, I'd totally ask him to give you a set of glorious boobs like these, and see whether people started assuming that you blew a bunch of guys to get where you are."

"He's probably kissed enough asses," Phil added.

"It should be about _kicking_ ass in this profession."

"Are we going to talk about the fact that you're somehow still alive and _here_?" Steve said, glaring at Phil.

"Let's see," he said. "Do I want to discuss the fact that I was dead for five days, and then injected with alien blood which made me temporarily crazy and had my memories of it erased in a procedure where they had to keep me awake while I begged for death? Is that something I really want to dwell on? Let me think… uh, _no_. No, it isn't. So let's put the personal aside, and get down to business. Now, this registration act has its merits. I think it should definitely be implemented… if you can implement a supervillain registration act simultaneously. If you can't, then it's not fair on those trying to save the world."

"And if we're going down the road of insurance, we'd need representatives from all the major insurance companies in a meeting with us," Darcy said. "I think we also need to make it official whether Thor's a god or not. If he's not a god, then people can't complain that any damage he does is an act of God."

"Semantics create the perfect loopholes, don't they?"

"They really do."

Only Talbot was smiling, aside from Darcy and Phil. Steve looked sad and baffled, Tony looked angry, and Ross was clearly livid. Phil was glad to see it, and gently nudged Darcy's ankle with his.

"Miss Lewis came up with an excellent solution to funding problems," he said. "The floor is yours, Darcy."

They'd come up with a list of merchandising opportunities, including areas and demographics which had been neglected. She proceeded to outline all of them, along with how to promote the fund. With Daisy's remote assistance, she'd hacked SI and found numerous requests from companies willing to make official Avengers merchandise, ones which had previously been ignored in favour of SI producing their own toys. Tony didn't look happy about it, and had probably figured out that he'd been hacked, but Darcy was on a roll. No one could get a word in edgewise. Phil gazed fondly at his firecracker of a soulmate.

He knew about her intern Ian; they'd discussed all recent liaisons, anything from New Mexico onwards. She knew about Audrey and Rosalind. They'd decided that this civil war Tony and Steve had started took precedence for the moment.

Phil also knew that he was too old for her. She went for younger men (younger-looking in Thor's case, though even Phil could ogle him). The first time they'd met he'd confiscated her iPod – hence the 'reconciliation iPod' he'd offered today. But they could be powerful allies… as long as he stayed on her good side.

* * *

**I love Darcy/Phil, but decided that for the purposes of getting this chapter posted ASAP, I'd have to leave it at possibilities for the future. Personally, I think Darcy would love being soulmated to a super spy, and she'd get on with everyone at SHIELD, even May. I don't know whether she'd be willing to leave Jane, even for her soulmate, but… yeah, that's something to consider for the headcanon thing.**

**Now, I'll be incommunicado until the end of December, because I don't think I'll have internet where I'll be staying. I'm currently doing this at the airport.**

**So happy [insert holiday], and please review! (Even though I won't read them until I get home.)**


	136. Amnesia (Clint x Fitz x Fury)

"Amnesia"

Nicholas Fury had two soulmarks; anyone who knew him would be surprised to learn that he had even one, let alone two. He accustomed himself to swearing as he grew up, swiftly growing out of a reflexive flinch every time he heard the F word, because one of his marks said 'The fuck is going on here?'. The other was also a question, far less worrying: 'Who are you?' Also, unfortunately, far more common.

But having a second soulmate, even one who possibly swore like a character on _The Sopranos_, made him feel confident that even if he missed the second one once, they'd find each other again. It was Fate.

* * *

Clint Barton had two soulmarks, but he didn't give a toss about soulmateship. It was a load of romantic crap. Even platonic relationships didn't have to work out. He was better off creating his own destiny and making his _own_ family. Sure, after his brother skipped out he didn't actually have anyone to turn to, but he'd find someone one day; someone he could trust, words or not.

Still, in his weaker moments, he wondered what would happen when he met 'What do you think, punk?' and 'Are you here to save me?'

(He doubted he'd ever find the second one, though. He was more deserving of whichever asshole was pretending to be tough. Who even said 'punk' anymore?)

* * *

Leo Fitz had two soulmarks. He was born with them, just like everyone else, so he had no starting off clues date-wise. If only marks formed at birth! If he was the youngest of the three that wouldn't have helped _him_, of course, but it would've helped his two soulmates find him. Unless they didn't have records… but that was all academic. He trusted Fate, and knew he'd find his soulmates.

In fact, he didn't even have to trust Fate. Science had proven that ninety-seven percent of Marked people found their soulmates. It was the Unmarked, the Blank ones, you had to pity. Would they die young? Would their future soulmate's first soulmate die young, and the Unmarked person became the runner up?

No. He was lucky, because he'd have two people to depend upon when times got tough.

And best of all… he knew at least one of their names. Even if Clint Barton wasn't his soulmate, Nick Fury apparently was, or someone impersonating him, so that narrowed down the field a hell of a lot. It was just a matter of finding the right one.

* * *

"Coulson, you'd better have a _fucking_ good reason for this," Nick hissed over the phone. His best friend probably didn't bat an eyelid.

"You gave me a free pass to use my instinct with a total of five potential assets of my choosing," Coulson said. "No questions, remember?"

"I can't believe you're wasting a free pass on _this_ guy."

"Have a little faith, sir."

"Faith my ass," Nick said, and he hung up as he rounded the corner. Coulson walked down a Quinjet ramp, a junior agent following with the infamous Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye, in hand. From what he'd heard about the mercenary, Nick was surprised he'd come quietly, and could only assume that the reason he was here was to do reconnaissance.

"Welcome to SHIELD," Coulson said. Barton – again, surprisingly enough – was looking more at the ground than his surroundings. Maybe those sharp eyes had already taken in everything they needed to see? "This is Director Nick Fury—"

"Uh-huh," Barton muttered, and he scowled at Coulson. "Cut the crap. Where are you stashing me until you take me out?"

"Sir, did you bring the probationary papers?" Coulson asked, ignoring him. Nick rolled his eyes, and handed the forms to Barton, who stared at the paper, and then turned his glare on Nick.

"The fuck is going on here?" he said.

A couple of things became very clear. One, Barton didn't know that Coulson intended to recruit him, not execute him. Two, one of the best assassins SHIELD had ever captured was Nick's soulmate. And apparently he had an attitude problem.

Well, revenge would be sweet.

"What do you think… punk?" he said, savouring the moment Barton's eyes widened comically. Yep, it seemed he was right. If he was stuck with 'fuck' in his soulmark, he was sticking his soulmate with 'punk'.

"Punk?" Barton squawked; Hawkeye was an apt name on more than one level. "You saddled me with _punk_?"

"I'd probably swear a lot less if it wasn't for you," Nick pointed out. Coulson's usually blank façade cracked as he glanced from one to the other. He handed Nick the key to the cuffs.

"I'll let you take over from here, if you don't have any objections, sir?" he said.

"None at all," Nick said, and he grabbed onto Barton's elbow. He wasn't taking any chances. "Come this way. It's comfier in my office, and more private."

He led Barton through the base, both of them silent as they observed each other using peripheral vision. Once they reached Nick's office, he locked the door behind them, and then unlocked Barton's cuffs. He gestured to the visitor's seat opposite his chair, and they both sat. Nick hated the atmosphere of officialdom, but picked up a pen nonetheless, and gestured to the blank space on Barton's side of the desk as he passed the ballpoint over.

"Read through the paperwork at your own pace," he said. "Ask me any questions you may have."

"We're not gonna talk about the fact that we're possibly soulmates?" Barton said.

"Not until I know where your loyalties will lie," Nick said. "I'm the head of an international spy organisation. There's no such thing as too much paranoia, even between potential soulmates."

"Especially the potential ones, I'm guessing." Nick inclined his head, and Barton sighed. But he dutifully began to read, and Nick pretended to go through his correspondence while keeping watch over the slippery assassin. Eventually, Barton signed, and handed the pen back. Nick dropped it into the pen holder Coulson bought him as a Secret Santa present one year. If there was one person he could trust not to bug his office, it was Coulson.

"I'll get this processed ASAP," Nick said, accepting the paperwork. He sat it in his out tray, and began to peel off his leather duster. Barton raised his eyebrows. "Hey, it's a bitch trying to roll leather up, okay?" Then he shoved up the long sleeve of his shirt, and showed Barton his soulmark. He knew it matched the writing on the probie forms Barton had just filled in, but this was traditional.

"In the interests of full disclosure, I have a second mark," Barton said.

"So do I," Nick said.

"And I don't hold much stock in soulmateship."

"…Why not?" It stung, but Barton said it in such a tired way that it was something he probably repeated to himself – or others – often. Which meant that he maybe no longer believed it.

"Seen too many bad relationships supposedly created by Fate," Barton said. Nick considered this for a moment before replying.

"Did it ever occur to you that bad relationships exist as a How Not To guide?" he suggested. "A demonstration of what not to do when you're with another person, platonically or otherwise?"

Barton blinked rapidly, and his gaze wandered.

"No," he said. "Guess it just seems like… like that'd be pretty stupid. Why can't everyone have someone else perfect for them?"

"The world would be boring if everyone was perfect," Nick said. "And we wouldn't have jobs."

Barton laughed hollowly. "Yeah. What a terrible world if doctors and police weren't needed."

"Barton—"

"Look, I get what you're trying to do. But I think you're better off waiting for our third, if we share whoever it is. I didn't build up any preconceived notions about my soulmates—"

"Except that you figured we'd be terrible together due to seeing only bad examples growing up," Nick said, frustration setting in. "I know you grew up in a circus. Didn't you see happy families then?"

"I… I guess…" He sighed again. "I just don't think I'm soulmate material."

"Fate thought otherwise," Nick said. He raised his hands when Barton opened his mouth. "No, I won't push this. I don't wanna see you give up on the idea of having any kind of relationship with your soulmates, that's all. Take as long as you need to think about it. I haven't met my other soulmate yet."

Barton hesitated, and then drew off one of his arm bands, exposing Nick's writing.

"I don't like wearing sleeves, but at least cold weather means I can wear these," he said. "Sucks during summer."

"I'll get someone to take measurements for your uniform, and they can work something out for you."

"Thanks… boss."

* * *

Not long after aliens attacked Manhattan, and Phil Coulson nearly died, Fury's right hand man was transferred to become the Avengers' handler. The team reportedly went their separate ways for the most part, which was good for Fitz. Because he and Simmons had been transferred to the New York base, and as long as Barton was still working for SHIELD there was a good chance that Fitz would meet his soulmates.

He hadn't told _anyone_ his soulmarks, especially the one belonging to Nick Fury, not even Simmons. He wasn't sure about attending the academy when he was first approached as a teenager; but when he heard the director's name, he accepted, and then worked his arse off to get to America. There, he met Simmons, and the rest was history.

Of course, at their age they were still too lowly to address the director directly, and since Stark was now working on trick arrows for Hawkeye that reduced the chances of meeting him anytime soon. But he didn't worry. He'd meet his soulmates sooner or later. It would be a huge coincidence if one of them _wasn't_ the head of SHIELD, but in their line of work… well, stranger things had happened.

To be honest, the R&amp;D Department was often the cause of strange things. No matter how innocently a project started out, sometimes explosions resulted. Apparently the same thing applied at Stark Industries, because something happened in one of the labs, and FitzSimmons were on the team sent to monitor the situation.

While using a DWARF to examine the area, Fitz went over the readings. Simmons was on the team examining the people who'd be covered in whatever substance had exploded. Why an astrophysicist was working with an engineer and a chemist, Fitz wasn't quite sure, but the results from Sneezy were fascinating.

In the background, he could hear a lot of yelling, and eventually someone stalked into the room. A curvy brunette wearing a beanie (indoors?) approached Fitz.

"Talk non-science babble to me," she said, and he blinked.

"Eh?" he said.

"Look, I need to get my boss's notebook out of there. Nick Fury's being a pain in the ass, but of course he's gonna back up Coulson, Mr. Supernanny. Anyways, if you could just let me past I'd be super grateful, and I'll be careful. I know the equipment in there. I helped build it. Well, I mean, I passed Jane the tools and the duct tape, but I know what not to touch."

"I can't let you go in there," Fitz said, holding out a hand. "Look, I'm wearing a hazard suit. You said it's a notebook?"

"Yeah, on one of the desks." She pointed. "That one, see? It's got a blue cover."

"I'll get it for you. You're not wearing the right clothes."

"Gimme a suit and I'll—"

"No, I can do this. The DWARFs know me, and they know the fabric this suit is made out of. This is my job, miss. Doctor?"

"Miss."

"I won't be a minute," Fitz promised. He checked the readings again, and then stepped into the lab. He kept the monitor with him, and picked his way around lumps of debris until he reached the right desk. Notebook. Blue… ish colour. Looked more like a StarkPad, but since it wasn't SHIELD tech Fitz couldn't swear to that. He touched the screen as he picked it up—

BOOM!

Fitz was knocked off his feet, monitor and notebook flying from his hands. He hit his head against something, hard, and it dazed him. He was barely aware of moving until he realised he was in the corridor again, and that it was Simmons dragging him by the wrists. She knelt beside him, calling his name and waving a hand in front of his face. Things were a bit blurry, and that wasn't helping. He tried to say as much, but words were proving harder than normal. A dark shape crouched beside Simmons' blurry form, and Fitz squinted.

"Who are you?" he asked. He barely noticed Simmons being shooed out of the way, before he was scooped up in strong arms.

"I'm Nick Fury, and the man carrying you is Clint Barton," the shape said. Fitz realised he was being held against a chest, and his head flopped onto the person's shoulder.

"Hey," whoever it was said. Clint Barton, was it? Why was Fitz having trouble with this? His brain wasn't usually this fuzzy.

"Are you here to save me?" he asked. He meant help, but save seemed right. Didn't the damsel in distress usually get carried to safety? Not that Fitz was a damsel.

"You're rambling," Simmons said. That was a voice he couldn't forget.

Forget…

* * *

Phil noticed Fury and Barton having one of their silent conversations. They weren't Bonded, as far as he knew. He didn't even know whether they spent that much time together. Hell, they saw each other even less now that Barton spent half his time on the Avengers Initiative. What could've prompted the looks?

"Gonna let me in on the conversation?" he asked testily. Even though Fitz wasn't one of his people, the young engineer had still been injured while (sort of) under Phil's care. Certainly in the building where Phil lived part of the time. (There was only so much of Tony Stark he could stand, without even having to interact with the recalcitrant billionaire.)

"Nothing," Barton said.

"Oh, wow. So convincing that I'll leave it alone. _Not_."

"You should," Fury said. His tone wasn't hard enough to match the glare, and Phil straightened up. He saw Barton and Fury exchange another indecipherable look, and wondered why they were even still there. They had no reason to hang out in the waiting room while Fitz was examined, especially Barton. Phil was sure Fitz had never had contact with either man…

"Oh," he repeated. "Wow. I'll… I'll go see how they're getting on. Unless you'd rather…?" He gestured to the examination room, where Banner was helping out, but Fury and Barton shook their heads. "If you think he's your—"

"Don't," Fury said. His voice was stonier this time, and Phil shut his mouth. He headed into the room, and stood on the other side of the bed from the doctor. Fitz's partner, Simmons, was prowling in the background. The contamination turned out to be harmless; the only injury was to Fitz's head.

"How is he?" he asked. Banner looked up.

"Won't know for certain `til he wakes," he said. "Shouldn't be long. I disinfected the wound and patched it up, but I don't want him waking up in the middle of an MRI. Could you ask Simmons whether he has claustrophobia?"

"He doesn't," Simmons said, clearly monitoring the situation with bat-like hearing.

"Good to know," Banner said. "I don't want to sedate him until I'm sure there's no brain damage… but I can't scan him if there's a chance he'll start moving around in a panic."

"Do what you can, doc," Phil said. He looked back over his shoulder, and saw Barton and Fury trying to look like they weren't worried. To Phil's eyes, they were failing.

"Of course. FitzSimmons are among the brightest minds I've encountered. I'm not letting them down if I can help it."

"Maybe Stark or JARVIS could help you?"

"Tony said he has a portable scanner… looks like he's waking up."

"What?" Phil said, and Simmons nearly skidded into the bed as she bolted to his side.

"Fitz!" she exclaimed. His forehead wrinkled and he groaned.

"Who's…" He opened his eyes gingerly, before shutting them against the bright light of the ward. "Ugh. Who's there?"

"It's me," Simmons said, leaning over so he could see her. Pointless, since his eyes were still closed. "Do you remember me, Fitz?"

"Couldn't forget _you_, Simmons." He half-smiled. "I've got the _worst_ headache. Why would I get drunk?"

"Head injury, not alcohol, Fitz. How much do you remember?"

"If the last thing he remembers is going to a bar, we're in trouble," Phil muttered. He turned around and signed that Fitz was awake, in case Barton and Fury couldn't see that. Barton nodded, and obviously translated for Fury. If Phil's soulmate (if he even had one) had any kind of hearing problem, he would've gone to the trouble of learning sign language. But their lack of a relationship… no, Phil refused to think about it, and returned his attention to Fitz.

"I remember working on the, uh, the latest upgrades to the cloaking—"

"Classified," Phil interrupted, smiling apologetically at Banner, who shrugged.

"Do you remember what day it is?" he asked.

"…Thursday?" Fitz said.

"And the date?"

It turned out that Fitz recalled leaving SHIELD for Stark Tower, but he was having trouble remembering past that. It was understandable; once FitzSimmons got lost in their work, apparently the outside world ceased to exist. Chances are he'd remember if he looked at the readings from their drones. But Banner would probably advise against Fitz returning to work so soon after sustaining a head wound.

He did, however, convince Fitz to consent to a head scan. Simmons, as his designated partner at SHIELD, accompanied them to the MRI room. Phil explained the situation to Barton and Fury, before calling Agent Weaver to text him a sample of Fitz's handwriting. She didn't ask questions, probably guessing the reason.

"Show me your soulmarks," he said.

"What?" Fury said.

"I can't pull rank on you, but I can pull rank on Barton, and I'd prefer not to. Doesn't exactly promote a healthy relationship between asset and handler."

Barton huffed a sigh, but he pulled up his shirt. In the easy-to-read print of a SHIELD engineering specialist was 'Are you here to save me?', which matched the section of a form Weaver had scanned and sent. Fury eventually uncrossed his arms while Barton tugged his shirt back into place, parted his coat, and lifted the black polo he was wearing underneath. The same writing, saying 'Who are you?'

"It's him," Phil confirmed, before thoroughly deleting the file from Weaver.

"He's a _kid_," Barton said.

"He's a SHIELD agent."

"Yeah, but not field."

"I didn't know you were so biased against the people who've provided you with the tools necessary for your work," Phil said, blinking innocently at Barton, who scowled.

"You know what I mean, Phil," he said. First name terms, huh? That was telling.

"You think that he can't defend himself if anyone finds out who his soulmates are."

"It's a good point," Fury said. Phil wondered whether he really meant it.

"The fact that he works for SHIELD in research and development already makes him a target," Phil said. "I was there when you spoke to him. He has your names in his mark. If no one's captured him yet to use as bait, there's a good chance it'll continue that way. Don't give up on him because you're scared."

"Look… I'm not comfortable with this," Barton said, hunching his shoulders. "I'm gonna go. Ask JARVIS to let me know if there's an emergency."

Fury didn't comment as Barton walked off. He waited until they were alone before turning to Phil.

"He's never been happy with the idea of soulmateship," he said. "Childhood… didn't give him the best examples."

"What do _you_ think?" Phil asked.

"I think…" Fury pulled out his phone. "I wanna get to know my other soulmate. But I have to do it covertly."

"For both your safeties. I understand. If someone wanted SHIELD science secrets, they could kidnap _you_ to get Fitz to comply."

Fury snorted, and half-smiled. It was more than Phil usually saw. "You think anyone could take _me_?"

"I don't think anyone could take Fitz while he's under your watch."

"Jumping the gun there, aren't you, Coulson?"

"Not going by your smile."

"Yeah, but I'm just a third of the equation." Fury's smirk dimmed, and Phil sighed, before tugging him back to the waiting room and forcing him to sit down. He sat beside his boss, and pulled up Fitz's file, studying it with new eyes.

"Doesn't make it any less valid, you know," he said. Fury hummed. "Soulmateship isn't settled until bonding. Anything can change… well, consider yourself lucky that you're marked at all."

"Never took you for a soul lore cynic," Fury said.

"Not a cynic," Phil said. "Fitz doesn't remember much of today at the moment. But when he wakes up, I suggest you be there. Introduce yourself again. Say that you met before, but Fitz was out of it. Don't push, because I'm pretty sure Bruce would advise against it, which means the Hulk would as well. He's young, and you're his boss, so put the power of the relationship in his hands. But don't give up hope if he's unsure at first. Finding out your soulmate is your boss, or someone you admire… it's a huge deal. Give him time."

"This won't be repeated."

"JARVIS, this conversation is highly sensitive in nature," Phil said. "Please wipe it from your records. Thoroughly. We can't afford anyone to get hold of it."

"Of course, Agent Coulson," JARVIS said.

"Thanks," Fury murmured to Phil.

"Not a problem, boss."

* * *

Thank God Simmons was right there. A familiar sight when Fitz woke up. He recognised the man – hopefully doctor or agent – at the end of the bed, and judging by Simmons' look of adoration he was either her soulmate or a hero of hers.

"Did I miss something?" he mumbled.

"Oh, Fitz!" She jumped to his side, and Fitz squinted. "Do you know what day it is?"

"I've only just woken up, Simmons," he said. "I could've been out overnight."

She rolled her eyes. "You haven't been out that long. You fell asleep not long after the MRI."

"I… I think I remember the tunnel?"

"Do you remember anything which happened before that?"

"Maybe I should ask the questions, Dr. Simmons?" the stranger said.

"O-of course, Dr. Banner," Simmons said, fluttering her eyelashes (unintentionally) as she backed off. Dr. Banner pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and Fitz braced himself for a headache-inducing barrage of questions. He was surprised when the doctor began with a non-standard question.

"Do you remember your soulmarks?" he asked.

"…W-what? My soulmarks? How… how did you know I have two?"

"You have _two_?" Simmons said. "You didn't tell me that!"

"I haven't met them yet," Fitz said, trying not to sulk. Dr. Banner cleared his throat.

"Are you sure about that?" he said.

"I'm sure I'd remember meeting my _soul_…" It was easy to put the pieces together, and Fitz groaned. "Don't tell me I met one – or both – of my soulmates while I was unconscious?"

"No," Dr. Banner said, and Fitz relaxed. "But you might've met them while you were dazed after hitting your head. Part of the day you've forgotten."

"No." He moaned, rubbing his temples. "No, no, _no_. Damn it! Waiting my whole life for it, and… and I can't remember…"

"It'll come back to you," the doctor said. Being tended to by the Hulk; that was what Fitz's life had come to. "Your memory's not gone forever. You'll find it."

"I bloody well hope so," he grumbled. "Did they, uh…"

"Here," a deep voice said, startling Fitz into turning his head too quickly. He moaned as it brushed the surface of the pillow, putting pressure on the bandage, and swallowed down the nausea. His gaze finally settled on the most imposing person he'd never actually met before. Until today, apparently.

"Hello," he said, feeling small.

"I'm Nick Fury."

"Y-yeah, I got that. But… are you _my_ Nick Fury? The one in my mark? I wasn't sure. I hoped it wouldn't be someone impersonating you, or anyone else named Nick Fury. Do you, uh, know who our—"

"Hawkeye. He's our third. We've checked your writing against both our marks. He's… not sold on soulmateship." Fury – because Fitz couldn't possibly call him _Nick_, let alone think of him as Nick – glared at Simmons and Dr. Banner. It was impressive enough with one eye; imagine what it'd be like with two. "Can we be alone for a minute?"

"As long as you need," Simmons said, wide-eyed. Dr. Banner coughed again.

"At any signs of fatigue," he began.

"I know, I know. I won't be long. His health is more important." Fitz blushed, especially when Simmons shot him a thumbs-up and mouthed 'Go, Fitz!' from the doorway. When the door was shut, Fury perched on the edge of the bed.

"My mark… it's here," Fitz said, pushing down the covers weakly. Embarrassing circumstances under which to meet his soulmates. He thought it was bad enough having 'Hey' as one of his marks; this was ten times worse. He was glad he'd been left in his own clothes, much easier to manoeuvre than a hospital gown. After a few seconds of fumbling, he was able to expose his belly, revealing the mark with the names. Fury's hand hovered over the print, and when Fitz grew impatient he caught the director's wrist and lowered his palm to Fitz's skin. There was a tickling sensation along the many lines of his mark, and he summoned the courage to meet his soulmate's gaze.

But Fury was staring at Fitz's mark, tracing along the letters. It was like nothing he'd felt before, and he was pretty sure his look of awe matched the director's.

"Barton's never…" He trailed off, and Fitz cocked his head.

"Doesn't believe in soulmateship?" he asked lightly.

"He believes it's more a suggestion, but that you make your own future," Fury said, still fixated on Fitz's soulmark. "He's seen too many soulmate relationships go sour."

"And you?" Fitz said. If he'd been hooked up to a heart-rate monitor, it would probably be going crazy. Wait. He _was_ hooked up to a heart-rate monitor, and it _was_ going a wee bit fast. But this was important. He'd pinned his hopes on finding his soulmates and… and maybe he should've abandoned those hopes when he realised that Nick Fury and Clint Barton were way out of his league. But his family had a tradition of perfect soulmateship. "Will you reject me, too?"

Fury met Fitz's eyes, and his lips tilted up at the corners.

"I'm not like Barton," he said, and Fitz shivered involuntarily as that deep voice seemed to travel through the mark into Fitz's very soul.

"You're not like anyone I've ever met before," he whispered.

"Not saying that because you're my soulmate, are you?"

"No, sir."

"Or because I'm your boss?"

"Definitely not, no. But… that complicates things a tad, doesn't it?"

"A bit. Only if you want it to. I'll… do whatever I can to make it easy for you."

"What do you _want_ me to do?" Fitz asked. It was a reasonable question, he thought, but Fury rolled his eye.

"It's your choice," he said. "I'm not pressuring you one way or the other. This is entirely in your hands. There's no deadline. There's no right or wrong answer. Take the time to think things over and decide what you want. I can't speak for Barton, whether he'll change his mind or not."

"But what do _you_ want? You have a say in this, too—"

"I'm the head of SHIELD, and you work for SHIELD," Fury said. "Just because I'm not directly above you doesn't mean I don't have control over your work, or where you work. I'm in charge there. When it comes to the personal, I'm putting you in charge. Don't make any hasty decisions. Let me know when you're ready. Ask Weaver, and she'll put me in touch with you."

"No!" Fitz said. "I need to know where you stand with this… sir. If I said I wanted this but you didn't, that… no means no! Consent—"

"I wouldn't say no," Fury said, standing up. "I've known Barton for years, but things have never moved there because he didn't… doesn't want a relationship with his soulmates, outside of a working one. I'm much older than you, Fitz, but if that didn't matter to you then it wouldn't matter to me. I want a life – whatever there is of it – with my soulmate. Both, if Barton ever came around to the idea, which I don't see happening anytime soon. Maybe you could change his mind? But, Fitz, you could never make me do anything against my will… including you."

He smiled wickedly for a second, shocking Fitz into speechlessness, before he strolled out of the room. Simmons and Dr. Banner entered a moment later, and Simmons was practically bubbling over with excitement.

"Well?" she squeaked.

"Uh… classified."

She huffed. "Spoilsport."

* * *

**I don't even know. This ship was requested? I know, I know, I've taken ages getting around to updating, and I haven't replied to all the reviews I received since I posted the previous chapter. Partly because I was in Canberra, and the few times I did get internet access I was catching up on other stuff while surrounded by family; and partly because I've been so damn listless these holidays that I've been entirely unproductive and mostly played Nancy Drew computers games. Earlier to bed than usual tonight. Sigh.**

…**Anyway, enough about me. I know this wasn't the most satisfying of chapters, conclusion-wise, but that just leaves more to be written for the headcanon continuation thing, right? (And I've really gotta get on with the companion pieces at some point. Oops.)**

**Please review!**


	137. Hijacked (Author x Deadpool)

**Note: For the sake of those who don't know my real name, I'll use Celia in this.**

"Hijacked"

_It was an ordinary day in_

"Hi, I'm stealing you!"

_Wait, you're what?_

* * *

Trust me, waking up with a sack over your head isn't as fun as you think it's going to be. It's dark and musty and there's a definite fear of 'WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?' while you stretch all your muscles and move your bones to ascertain injuries.

"Hey, what's with the change in tense?" came a grating, chirpy voice. "Oh, that's much better. And stick to third person, too. Otherwise it's just weird for your readers, and for you."

"The whole friggin' situation is weird!" Celia insisted, trying to pull the sack off her head, with little success. In her defence, her hands were tied. Literally.

"Lemme help you with that!"

Celia knew the voice was familiar, but since this was a dream even the weirdest things would be familiar. That's how dreams worked. And the familiar was unfamiliar, so it made sense for her to be interacting with someone with an America accent… in person. Ah, the delights of dream teleporting. Like that time she dreamed that she was married to Chris Evans, and he was playing football up in the choir stalls at church, and… yeah, that was a weird dream.

"You're not dreaming, and no obscure references to Captain America," her captor said, unbuckling her hands. No skin contact, so gloves? Well, one good way to find out was to… oh, he was removing the sack for her.

"I know I probably look better with a bag over my head, and thanks for not making it plastic, but… oh, what? I'm dreaming about Deadpool now? Thanks, readers. Thanks so very much."

"Seems you didn't hear me before," Deadpool said cheerfully, jumping up. He held out a hand. "You're not dreaming, Celia. Since your warning _insists_ that you use your pseudonym instead of your real name…"

"Ah," Celia said, nodding slowly as she got to her feet. Or tried to. They were tied as well, and maybe she should've held onto that book on sailors' knots. Not that it would've been helpful in real life unless she actually had it with her, but this was all a dream. Yep. Couldn't be anything else. (Damn fictophile tendencies.) "If dreams aren't meta enough, Wade Wilson will continue to break the fourth wall. But referring to author notes? Really?"

"Correction," he said, and he held up a single finger. "Your pre-chapter warning, not your author note. You'll probably claim you were tired when you came up with this idea—"

"I'll stop you right there," she said. "Especially if you untie my legs."

Deadpool was obliging enough to squat down and draw a katana. Celia flinched at the sight of the sharp weapon, especially when it came down between her feet; but she remained intact, and the ropes fell to the floor.

"I swear, I'll stop writing mysteries after this," she muttered. "No more mysteries. Or if I continue to write them, I won't write any more kidnappings. Probably. At least they won't contain all the abduction clichés packed into one scene."

"Can I make a crack about bondage?" Deadpool said.

"I write _children's_ mysteries!"

"Oh yeah." He shrugged, and leapt to his feet again. He extended both hands this time. "C'mon. Let's talk."

"Us or you?" Celia asked, accepting one hand, but choosing to put most of her weight on the wall beside her. "How the hell did I even get here? Dream. That's right."

Deadpool huffed, and he steered Celia through the flat. Apartment? They got to a room with a ratty couch and a fancy coffee table. No books, though. Not much of anything around at all, which made her wonder whether this was even his place.

"Where are we?" she said. "It doesn't feel familiar."

"Well, it wouldn't," he said. He sat beside her, and the patch of mask over his mouth moved into the shape of a grin. "I kidnapped you—"

"Got that."

"And brought you here because I wanted to thank you," he continued, unperturbed by the dry interruption.

"Thank me?" she said. "For what?"

"Writing me in so many awesome chapters! And your readers love me. I don't know how many of them had heard of me before, but they _love_ me! And so many people forget what my handwriting really looks like." He sighed dreamily. "It's so nice to be reminded. And people accepting me even with all the horrible scarring?"

"Yeah, well," she said quietly. "Maybe wish fulfilment on my part."

"What?"

"Nothing. So why am I dreaming about you? I can't remember… well, I know at least one person has asked for more Deadpool chapters, but was that really enough—"

"I told you, it's not a dream!" He waved his arms, and she ducked. It wasn't necessary, but better safe than sorry, even in dreams.

"You could say that in a dream," she pointed out. She squirmed as he studied her, suddenly terrified of a SILENT DEADPOOL. It was unnatural. Although she'd had that idea for a Sam/Wade chapter—

"How can I convince you this is real?" Deadpool asked.

"I don't think you can. That's the point of a dream. You wake up eventually, and then you laugh about the strange places the mind goes to."

"Hmm." He cocked his head, and Celia continued to shuffle in place. She was starting to itch – had a mozzie somehow gotten into her room and bitten her in her sleep? – but it probably wouldn't be polite to scratch. Deadpool started to rub his mask, and Celia wondered whether the flat/apartment was a health and safety hazard, with midges or something infesting the couch.

NO. I'M DREAMING.

It was getting harder to remember that as the itch began to burn.

"Where's the bathroom?" she asked. Deadpool pointed, and she hurried to a partially open door. She entered a small room with a toilet, a sink, and a shower smaller than the one back home. But, most importantly, there was a large mirror hanging over the sink. She glanced at the door, making sure it was closed, and then lifted her Hulk pyjama shirt. Over the skin of her heart was a tattoo…

"Great, now I'm dreaming about tattoos," she murmured, moving closer to the mirror to see it better. Despite a slightly muddled mind, she mentally reversed the words inscribed in a beautiful calligraphy: "Hi, I'm stealing you!" Well, it was confirmed that she had good taste in fonts. And both grammar and punctuation were correct, unlike in that episode of _Glee_, when poor Kurt… off-topic. "Who says they're stealing someone…? Oh. Oh, _hell_ no. I'm _not_ dreaming about soulmate AUs!"

"Told you before, you're not dreaming!" Deadpool called from the other side of the door. Celia shoved her shirt back down, realising she was _only_ in pyjamas.

"Uh… done," she said, and she opened the door. Deadpool leaned against the pane, head tilted.

"Wow, your memory really _is_ crappy," he said.

"I'm not exactly exaggerating whenever I tell people I can't remember what I did last week," she replied.

"Uh, uh, uh!" he sang. "You're a writer. You never exaggerate. You use hyperbole."

"…Which is something I'm sure I've never written, confirming that this is all just a dream."

"I break the fourth wall, remember?" Deadpool said. "Everything I'm in turns meta at some point. That's why you love writing me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to check something out in here. You're free to stay and watch, you know." He waggled his eyebrows.

"That really is tight-fitting fabric," Celia said. "I'm surprised your skin can breathe."

"Doesn't need to." Deadpool removed his mask, and Celia managed to hold in a gasp when she saw the scars in person. (In dream. Because if this wasn't a dream she'd officially cracked, and the school year was about to start. They needed her. She couldn't afford to be sectioned for another eleven months.) "Can't get any worse."

"Does… does it hurt?" she asked, tempted to reach out and feel it for herself. But she was brought up better than that.

"All the time," he said softly. "But you already knew that bit of trivia."

"I read it on Tumblr. But… no offence intended, but it _does_ seem to be getting worse." She pointed out the markings around his lips. "Black blotches instead of red, though. Did I bring back the plague or something?"

Deadpool ducked over to the mirror, and as soon as he checked his reflection the 'black blotches' formed into words. Celia moved to his side, concerned. But when Deadpool turned his head to look at her, his eyes anguished, she backed up.

"Officially cracked it is," she said hoarsely. Because that was _her_ handwriting on his mouth, saying 'Wait, you're what?'. When the writing – the words on her chest – had shown up on her screen, she figured it was a hacker and responded with those words now on Deadpool's face. Really, if it'd been a hacker she should've shut the laptop down immediately. Seems there wasn't a hacker after all.

"This what I think it is?" Deadpool said, pointing at the soulmark. Because there really was no other word for it. Besides, 'soulmark' was in her Microsoft Word dictionary, which meant no squiggly red line.

"Um… I have your words, if it's any consolation?" Celia said.

"Why didn't it turn up when you were born? I've…" He turned back to the mirror, and began rubbing the letters. "I've never had a soulmark before. All this time it was someone who thinks I'm a fictional character."

"I think it's safer for the world that you stay fictional," she said, fighting the numbness of shock trying to take over.

"You're from another dimension!"

"Well…" She resorted to logic. Sort of. "That would explain why neither of us had a soulmark. Plus, there's the fact that I come from a place where we don't have soulmate-identifying marks. Curiouser and curiouser."

"Huh… could I get away with keeping you here?" He straightened up, and his gaze slid over to Celia. She scowled.

"I'm needed back in my world! I mean, dimension!"

"But I'm not needed here…" He trailed off, and grinned. "And I'd be safer in your world! No bounty on my head there."

"Uh…" This was all kinds of awkward. Usually Celia's dreams tended to the bizarre, sometimes the dramatic or supernatural, but sci-fi? Really?

"Unless… you don't want me?" Deadpool said, deflating. "You always have characters accepting me, but maybe the reality is too much for you?"

"Hey! I'm the last person to judge someone based on their appearance. It'd be the height of hypocrisy."

"Or the craziness—"

"My own doctor doesn't want me to be psychologically evaluated because she thinks they might commit me for being a bit too eccentric."

"Then what's the problem?" Deadpool said. He still hadn't put his mask back on, Celia noted with approval and relief. He was much less intimidating with his face visible. And it was easier to read him without the disguise.

"For starters, could you even survive in another dimension long enough?" she said.

"I kind of can't die, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Oh, I'd noticed. But…" It was so tempting to accept. To drag Wade Wilson back to her world. Sure, there'd be problems – explaining his sudden appearance to her mother, for one thing, and this _really_ _wasn't_ a dream, was it? – but nothing that couldn't be explained away… with enough imagination. And she had that.

"But?" he prompted.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked. He shrugged.

"To thank you for pairing me with people," he said.

And that was when she realised the awful truth.

"I can't," she said. "I'm sorry, Wade."

"Why not?" he asked. For a man – character, damn it! – always suffering, it was something new to see him actually look like he was in pain. "For some reason, I was able to bring you here. Fate gave us to each other."

"Because people love you!" Celia exclaimed. "They love to read about you, they love to write you. Like me. I love… writing you. If you came back to my world… dimension, they wouldn't get you anymore. Who knows? Maybe it could destroy this world as we know it."

"Marvel will just write another," he said, waving a hand dismissively. Celia leaned against the doorframe, trying not to cry.

"I can't stay here, because I'd be missed back home," she said. "And… please tell me this is a… no, it isn't. Hurts too much not to be real life." She wrapped her arms over her chest, heart beating extra hard against the tattoo… the soulmark. Why couldn't soulmarks be real in her world? "And you can't come back with me because you belong here."

"Maybe… maybe _you_ can stay?" Deadpool whispered. "You're Celia. You're an online persona."

"An awful lot of real me in it."

"But we could still exist together _here_… maybe?"

Celia sniffled, blinking rapidly, and glanced up at her soulmate.

Soulmate. Impossible.

"K-kiss me," she said before she could stop herself. She felt her cheeks flame up, and looked at the floor. Cracked bathroom tiles. That would have to change. It was a health and safety hazard—

Deadpool tilted her chin up.

"You sure about this?" he asked.

"You never know unless you try," she said. "Maybe as long as this chapter is around… this'll be real. Even just here, that's better than nothing, right?"

"I really hope so," he said, and he lowered his lips to hers. Before they could meet, he hesitated. "Where's _your_ soulmark?"

"I'll show you later. _If_ you can keep your hands to yourself."

"I promise to try," he said, and he stopped her protest with a kiss.

* * *

**Wasn't a dream. I have seriously never dreamed this before. Nor did it actually happen in real life—**

**Ooh, good line!**

**Go away, Wade! This isn't Shakespeare. I don't like my family reading my fan fiction. Or at least I don't want to know when they've read the smutty stuff.**

**Uh-huh.**

**Give Galileo back! Thank you. Right. Readers… I think I was probably tired when I came up with this? That's the only reasonable explanation. Also, I thought it'd give everyone a laugh. Didn't mean to wind up with some angst thrown in there.**

**(I wouldn't mind being with Deadpool. For once, I'd be the sane person.)**

**Please review! I know the only familiar character was Deadpool, but I couldn't help making a cameo just the once. And what better character for meta stuff, am I right?**

**(By the way, a fictophile is basically someone who falls for fictional characters.)**


	138. Happy Anniversary (fHunterxTony, BBxfPC)

**Turns out I posted the first chapter of 'Fate Has a Twisted Sense of Humour' one year ago today. Not sure whether it was the 20****th**** of February American time or Australian time, but that's what the websites say. So… happy anniversary, I guess? The first pairing was Bruce/Phil. Note: this is extremely non-canon from sometime in S2 of 'Agents of SHIELD'. Screwing with timeline in general.**

"Happy Anniversary"

It was one year to the day since Loki and the Chitauri had hit New York. Thor was visiting from London, and the six original Avengers sat together, sipping drinks and snacking on finger food. Their friends were around as well, Pepper curled up on the sofa beside Happy. Bruce was by himself beside the windows, staring out at the drizzle. No one asked Thor whether he was responsible for the rain.

They'd all started out by toasting each other's superhero-ing success that day, before they started toasting all who'd died. When they got to Phillippa Coulson, it devolved into reminiscing about the agent who'd touched most of their lives in some way, and even Natasha spilled a few amusing stories of Strike Team Delta missions. Clint was perched on the back of the chair behind her, and reached forward to squeeze her shoulders whenever it got hard to speak.

"Do you honestly still think she's dead?" Bruce said quietly. They'd all been silent for several minutes by now, but it was obvious who he was referring to.

"Fury was genuinely upset about it," Clint said. "I… guess he _did_ pull his scowl back on pretty quickly, but Coulson's dead. If she was still alive she'd have told us, not let us think…" He swallowed, and his gaze narrowed in on the way Bruce rubbed the top of his thigh. "Doc? If you know something we don't… if she survived…"

"What if she has amnesia?" Pepper said. "Bruce, do you think that's it?"

"No," Bruce said. "But I'm pretty damn sure she's alive."

There was an explosion of noise as they all started questioning him. He covered his ears, sometimes the easiest way to calm down, and waited for the noise to abate.

"Wanna explain?" Steve said, crossing his arms.

Bruce shrugged. "We were soulmates. I don't know what more there is to say."

"…Then she can't be alive," Tony said. "She'd never stay away from you."

"Wouldn't she?" Bruce asked, looking up at his science bro.

"No," Pepper said firmly. "I knew Phillippa. She wanted to find her soulmate. She'd been talking to this handwriting expert – we used 'cellist' as a code name – and she was close to finding out who it was."

"Guess it became unnecessary when I was called in," Bruce said, rubbing his thigh again. "We met on the Helicarrier, barely exchanged a few words. It was too busy. I didn't realise until later that she'd said my words. After I woke up in the warehouse, naked as usual, I saw that my soulmark was missing. That's why I fought. I knew it had to be her, and she was dead. And it was partly my fault." He returned his attention to the darkening rain clouds. "Less than a week later a different mark showed up, but it was in the same handwriting. I didn't know what to think. Had she only died for a minute, but wasn't out of the danger zone until then? If she really did come back to life, why didn't she contact me?" He sighed. "I guess the Other Guy was too much for her to handle. Either that, or I've got it all wrong, and my new soulmate just happens to have the exact same writing as Phillippa Coulson."

"I didn't know," Tony said. "I'm sorry."

"Maybe I'm being too hard on her. Maybe she was hoping for a female soulmate, and that's how I disappointed—"

"No," Natasha said. "Don't go down this road, Bruce. We don't even know if she's still alive. If she is, she could be in a vegetative state, and Fury doesn't want us to see her like that."

"I thought Commander Fury was dead?" Thor said.

"…Didn't want us to see her like that," Steve said. "Makes sense. And of course, with SHIELD falling like that…" They all fell silent again, staring out at the growing storm. JARVIS cleared his throat, nearly unheard over the thunder.

"Yeah, what is it, JARVIS?" Tony asked.

"Mr. Wilson is here, sir."

"Sam?" Steve said.

"As he arrived at the tower, he was approached by a group of women in need of shelter. He is requesting permission for them to enter."

"Is he being coerced?" Clint asked, already heading for the bow and arrows he kept nearby. Steve was reaching for his shield.

"He has not giving any of the safe words indicating so," JARVIS said. He paused for a second. "Oh."

"What is it?" Natasha said.

"…Something very interesting," JARVIS said. "You will see soon enough. They are coming up in the elevator."

He wouldn't be pressed further. It all became clear when the doors opened. Sam walked out first, damp around the edges, followed by a group of bedraggled women, one particularly familiar to all of them.

"Coulson!" Clint said. "What the ever-loving fuck?"

"Language, Barton," Coulson said.

"Relax, DC, we're not kids anymore," one of the other women said.

"Thank you for allowing us in," Coulson said to Tony, ignoring her. "There have been… problems at New SHIELD. I gathered together the personnel I trusted, which involved some rescuing, and now we need a new place to stay until we… work something out."

The other agents of New SHIELD lowered their hoods, which had kept them mostly dry, but rain hadn't been predicted, so few people had gone out prepared.

"May," Clint said, and an Asiatic woman tipped her head slightly.

"Wait, that's FitzSimmons," Tony said, pointing to two of the agents. "Lenore Fitz and Jemma Simmons. I'm right, aren't I? I wanted to poach you from SHIELD! They had way too many talented people working for them."

"I don't think we're focussing on the most problematic part here," Bruce said. He'd barely moved his head to acknowledge the visitors, but his knuckles were white.

"I know… I need to explain myself," Coulson said, watching Bruce. He sucked in a tight breath, and continued to stare out the window.

"I thought so," he muttered. "You shouldn't have come back."

"No choice," Coulson said, flinching. She cleared her throat. "Mr. Stark, and… twelve percent Miss Potts, would it be possible for us to have somewhere to stay? Even just until the end of this rain. I can pay you, if Gonzales doesn't cut off my SHIELD credit card."

"I should've stayed there," May said.

"No, I wasn't risking it. I'm glad we got Hunter back."

"Same here," Hunter said. "You're stuck with me, boss."

"So," Tony said, strolling over to them. "You bailed because you couldn't stand the overwhelming testosterone, and started up your own all-girl band of super spies… and scientists? Would've thought you'd have more balls than that, Coulson."

"Watch it," Coulson said. "You work with Pepper Potts and Natasha Romanov, or do you need more padding on the inside of the Iron Man helmet?"

"Wow, with such a female-positive attitude, I'm surprised you don't have a girlfriend, Stark," Hunter scoffed.

Tony grinned slowly, bitterly. "Self-fulfilling prophecy," he said. "Don't know whether you've ever heard of the concept?"

"Oh shit," Hunter said, all amusement gone.

"Hunter, aren't those your words?" Fitz said, poking her.

"Now I understand Stark's relationship with women," Natasha remarked. "Coulson, has it occurred to you what today is?"

"Yes, but I can't help the coincidence!" she said.

"We were talking about you," Bruce said. He finally unfolded himself away from the window, still not meeting Coulson's eyes.

"Which is why I almost didn't bring my people here," Coulson said. "But we needed someplace. We're on the run from people who think they should be in charge of SHIELD, even though Fury left me in charge… before he died."

"I begin to think that Fury is still alive," Thor commented. Coulson flushed, but didn't reply.

"Would you ever have come back?" Bruce said.

"Going by my new mark, I didn't think I'd be welcome," she said. "Now you all know I'm alive; consider yourselves informed. We'll wait down in the lobby until the rain lets up."

"Hey, wait a second," Tony said, holding up his hands. "If people are after my soulmate I'm not letting you go. Hunter, was it?"

"Birth name Guinevere, because my parents were drunk," Hunter said. "I changed my name to Lancelot when I was legally able to. Lance for short. Most people call me Hunter."

"Okay, well, we have room here," Tony continued. "You're all staying. JARVIS, take them to the guest suites. There'll be towels. We'll rustle up some clothes. Do you have anything else with you?"

"Just a few bags," May said.

"We'll fix that later. Go get dried. Get settled. Come back when you're ready."

Once they were gone, the Avengers all settled around the coffee table in an unofficial war council.

"Who's Gonzales?" Steve asked.

"He was a senior agent at SHIELD," Natasha said. "When I tracked down his record after the info dump, he was declared dead. Come to think of it, May's file disappeared, and I don't recall seeing FitzSimmons' files."

"Neither do I," Clint said.

"Excuse me," Bruce said. "I'm going to… the Other Guy's room."

"Yeah, go ahead," Tony said, waving him off. "JARVIS, has my soul… has Hunter removed her clothes yet?"

"She is still checking her room for bugs," JARVIS said. "They all are."

"Not placing them?"

"No, sir."

"Scan the soulmark as soon as it's revealed, and compare it with my handwriting," Tony said. "And get ready for us to run the full gamut of tests on each of them."

"At least you're not just accepting them on the off-chance this Agent Hunter is your soulmate," Steve said.

"Morse knew a woman named Hunter once, didn't she?" Clint asked Natasha. She nodded after a few seconds' thought. "Could be the same one."

"If it is, she's ex-SAS, and definitely doesn't need your _protection_, Stark," Natasha said. "Just a place to lie low."

"Agent Hunter's soulmark is a match," JARVIS said. He brought up an image of a patch of skin, with the words Tony had spoken in his handwriting.

"Ask Hunter if she's available for a dinner date in my suite tonight," Tony said. "And ask Coulson for any information she has on this Gonzales jerk. Also, get in touch with Hill. She knows. She has to know something about how Coulson is still alive."

"I have already contacted Ms. Hill, and she is on her way."

"Good," Steve said. "I'm sick of secrets. They're all coming out today, one way or another."

* * *

**Right. Well, if I wait much longer I won't have this posted in time, so this is where the chapter ends. It wasn't supposed to be this angsty! Gah! I know I say that a lot, but there was supposed to be more focus on fem!Hunter/Tony and a happy ending. Instead you get the Avengers preparing to do… something, I'm not sure what. Defend Coulson &amp; Co's honour?**

**I think Hunter and Tony would snark too much even for me to handle. Plus, writing too much genderswap confuses me. Either everyone should swap or no one should, because otherwise the pronouns and everything can get mixed, thoroughly confusing my poor readers.**

**So… hope you liked this chapter? Please review?**


	139. MESSAGE FROM AUTHOR

Hello.

I've been on ffnet since 2009, and have posted over 2 million words of fan fiction in that time. However, I regret to inform you that, due to several mirror sites which have been created for the purposes of spamdexing, I am taking down my stories from this website. The mirror sites carry viruses, and the creators are making money from other people's hard work without permission. If someone searches for my stories online and ends up on one of those sites, I refuse to take responsibility for it. But I also wish to lessen the chances of that happening.

So, for the safety of my readers and because I'm pissed off that these hacker types are making money off me without my permission, I'm removing all my stories from this website by the end of the month.

You can still find me on Adult Fan Fiction, and I've posted a hell of a lot of stories on Archive Of Our Own. I'll continue to post on those sites. AO3 has my fan fiction from the following fandoms: Marvel, 'Sherlock', Miss Marple, and crossovers involving Marvel and other fandoms. My 'Labyrinth' and Harry Potter fan fiction will take awhile to post on there, and I'll probably try to tidy up some of the stories. But if you wish to continue following me, that's the place to do it.

I'm also on Tumblr under the same name, so look me up there sometime.

Thank you all so much for your support, especially those who've followed me since the beginning. If these circumstances upset you, please go to Fiction Press. They haven't done a damn thing about taking down the other sites. I'm sure a flood of complaints won't make a difference, but in case it does, feel free to harass them.

Love,

Celia.


End file.
